As the Clock Struck Ten

by Gill Mather

  “OK. I’ll just go and lock the doors and clean my teeth.”

  This she did and when she got back to the room with a couple of glasses of water for them, Don was undressed in bed but he still wore his T shirt and underpants. She slipped in beside him. She wouldn't cry. After a time she reached for her book that she was reading at the moment. There was enough light to read by without turning on her bedside lamp. The story seemed trivial and banal and very unlikely indeed. She needed badly for Don to love her. She reached over and took his hand but it lay limply in hers. She rolled over and wrapped herself around him but there was no reaction whatsoever. His eyes were closed now and his breathing shallow. She couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. Gradually she drifted off herself hoping that overnight, proximity would result in habit reasserting itself and that at the very least he’d want to embrace with her again.

  “I’M NOT GOING TO work today.”

  “Don't be silly.”

  “I can't leave you like this.”

  “I’ll get up in a minute. Off you go.”

  “I think you should see a doctor.”

  “Grace. Hasn’t it sunk in yet? I want to be on my own.”

  “Don! Please!”

  “Don. Please,” he mimicked.

  Grace stood next to his side of the bed, fully dressed. She’d got ready for work, hoping that keeping up a normal routine might spur Don into some sort of normal activity himself. It didn't seem to have worked therefore she’d decided not to go in today.

  “Would you mind please not hovering over me like that,” said Don. “I really don't like it.”

  Grace started to feel angry. As she’d thought last night, maybe one approach that might work would be to remind him that he wasn't unique and moreover that in his particular case, he bore a little of the responsibility for what had happened. It was only incidental but nonetheless he hadn't acted very sensibly.

  “Look Don, if you hadn't made such a fuss to Luke about him and Emma, they wouldn't have taken themselves off to France and Emma would have been able to tell the police that the claims were nonsense.”

  “Credit me with some sense woman.I think I’ve possibly worked that out for myself.”

  “OK, then if Emma had actually been here, the person who made the allegation to the police almost certainly wouldn't have.”

  “Yes. The person who made the allegation,” Don said coldly.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Read into it what you like.”

  “Don. You don't think I did do you? Surely not!”

  Don didn't say anything.

  “Or Luke?”

  Again there was no response.

  “Don please say you don't think either of those things.”

  Don rolled over and faced the other way.

  “I can't believe this. Don,” she said sharply walking round to the other side of the bed so that she could face him again, “how could you? We’re a….a….unit. The four of us were all starting to get on quite well. You and I have been so happy together. This can't be happening.” She sat down on the bed and put her face in her hands. She heard Don say:

  “Well if you don't like it, you know what to do about it.” Grace started to cry. Don didn't lift a finger to try to comfort her. After a time she stopped crying, cleaned up her face and left for work.

  DON WAS SURPRISED at himself. It had been like another person taking over and doing the talking. He never normally spoke to anyone like that, least of all a woman who until yesterday had been the love of his life.

  But the other person was dictating what he said.

  And he found he actually enjoyed hurting Grace, causing a reaction and coldly observing it. His own self, his real self was still buried somewhere deep inside but he couldn’t now reach that self. And it was becoming fainter and fainter and less and less accessible by the minute.

  AND SO IT WENT on. Day after day. Grace stopped talking to Don for fear of what he might say to her. He did start to get up and spent his time as far as she could tell watching daytime TV. She made meals. He ate a little. He refused alcohol. He refused her occasional attempts to get him to see a doctor. She thought about asking the vicar to come and visit Don, but decided against it. Both she and Don were private people. She didn't want to have to tell anyone about the sordid things Don had been accused of.

  She called Martin and told him what was happening including that Don seemed to think that she might be his accuser and that she thought he should see a doctor but he wouldn't. There wasn't much that Martin could say. He gave her the general information that no-one could be forced to have medical attention without actually being certified. He suggested that she bide her time until Emma got back. And so that’s what she did. In fact she counted the days. It seemed like an eternity.

  THE WEATHER HAD changed at last. The day Luke and Emma were due to return the sky turned black and a furious thunderstorm erupted. Grace sat in the kitchen and waited for them. Rain was drumming on the windows and lightning periodically lit up the dark clouds. Luke had texted that they’d be back about eight in the evening and he sent her short texts as they got closer. She tried to get Don to come to the kitchen and meet them but he wouldn't. And then suddenly they were there, bursting in heaving their luggage in with them, somewhat rain-soaked but laughing and saying hello. Despite the weather, they brought the sun in with them. Grace was so relieved she of course started to cry and Luke of course thought it was because she had missed him and was happy and he gave her a huge hug.

  “Where’s dad?” said Emma and was immediately alarmed at Grace’s worried expression. “Has something happened to him? Where is he?”

  Grace shook her head, hardly able to speak. “He’s in the sitting room.” She sniffed and took out her handkerchief.

  “Has something happened mum?” said Luke as Emma rushed into the sitting room. She nodded.

  “What is it mum?”

  “We’d better go in after Emma,” said Grace and they both followed her. Emma was looking at her father in disbelief. He appeared to have aged ten years. His hair and clothes were dishevelled, he was thinner, he had two week’s growth of white beard, and frankly he did smell a bit. Emma was trying to get him to tell her what was wrong. She asked if perhaps it was one of his sisters who was ill, who had died maybe but he wasn't responding. He looked at her briefly, shook his head and then went back to watching a soap on the TV.

  Emma started to cry. “Has he had a stroke or something ?” she asked Grace.

  “No,” Grace said. She was crying too. She got up and said she’d take them back into the kitchen and explain there what had happened.

  “No. I think we should stay in here,” said Luke. He picked up the TV remote and turned the volume down. “Whatever it is, perhaps we can all sort it out together.”

  So Grace told them. She had no information what had happened at the police station apart from the very basics given to her by Martin. All she could tell them was that Don had been there most of the Monday after their departure to France being questioned about having sexually abused Emma during her childhood and now.

  “Who told the police that?” said Luke.

  “We don't know,” said Grace.

  Emma had stopped crying and was frowning. She and Luke looked at each other.

  “What?” said Grace.

  “I think we know who did it,” said Emma. “In fact I’d stake my life on it.”

  “I’d bet quite a bit on it too,” said Luke.

  “Yeah and you don't know everything,” Emma said to Luke.

  “What do you mean, everything?”

  “I didn't tell you because I didn't want to upset you. Alex told me that your dad had had an affair with her mother when she was younger until, she said, Greg moved onto another one.” Emma looked at Grace. “Sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t worry. It’s no big surprise to me,” said Grace. “But who’s Alex?”

  “A girl I work with. Luke knows her too. They wer
e at school together. Anyway, she seemed to have a kind of fixation on Greg. She said he was the nearest thing to a father she’d ever had, that other men her mother had lived with had tried it on with her but that Greg never had. And that she’d kept in touch with Greg. Sorry Luke. I didn't see any reason to tell you.”

  “Oh God,” said Luke, “and she was there that night I went round to see dad. I thought, we discussed it didn't we, that she might actually be living there with him although it seemed incredible because of their ages. He’ll have put her up to it. You don't know what my dad’s like.”

  Suddenly Don spoke for the first time. To Emma. Looking at her coldly he said, “So did you tell her that I’d abused you?”

  “Dad! No of course not. I….no not that. Not at all.”

  “So what did you tell her? You told her something, didn't you?”

  “It was….it was just that when I first came home from uni and found you two, you know, practically having it off in the kitchen, I mean I didn't like it. Sorry Grace but it was a huge shock. And just having someone I didn't know living in the house. I just told Alex about it and that I didn't like it and she kind of insinuated that I was jealous. She used the word pervy.”

  “Was that it?” said Don still looking icy.

  “More or less except that after I’d moved to the room downstairs and mentioned that to her too, she said how convenient that’d be. I started to think about what she’d insinuated before and it made me think she was suggesting something going on between me and dad. I mean how sick can you get, but when I challenged her about it she just said she’d meant it would be convenient if I wanted to have friends round.”

  “Well thanks for your support,” said Don sarcastically.

  “Look,” said Luke, “Emma wasn't to know that Alex and my dad would end up together. And that they’d concoct a complete load of shite and go running to the police with it. Though he probably made her do that. Somehow my dad always gets away with things himself. It’ll be her who gets any come-back.”

  “There is something else,” said Emma. “It’s just that Alex had offered that I could go and live in her shared house to get away from here because she said there was a spare room. Then she said I could actually have her room for the last weeks of my summer holiday as she wasn't going to be there. But then she sort of back-tracked about it. I didn't want the room anyway but it made me think that she didn't want me and Luke to think she was living with Greg. You’ve no idea what she’s like. She’s such a slippery customer. I thought that with her upbringing I should feel sorry for her, but if she’s done this, well it’s awful. I don't think I can go back and work in the same place as her next week. But I need the cash so I suppose I’ll have to.

  “But dad,” she looked across at Don, “why have you gone like this? Of course it’s awful but you knew it wasn't true and you knew I’d come back and say so, so you don't have to worry any more. Surely.”

  “Well actually,” said Grace sadly, “he thought that I was responsible for the information to the police, or me and Luke or Luke and Greg. I don't know about you Emma. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  “As I said before,” said Don to Grace, “if you don't like it, you know what you can do.”

  Emma gasped. “Dad!” she said. “You don't mean it!” He looked away.

  “My mother,” said Luke angrily, “would never do any such thing.” He went over to where his mother was sitting and put his arm around her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “that it’s been such an awful homecoming for you both.”

  “It’s not your fault,” said Luke.

  “No,” said Emma.

  “I’m going upstairs to bed,” said Don and he got up and walked out, though Emma noticed his shoulders were hunched and he was shuffling along like an old man.

  “A few weeks ago, I would have been amazed to hear myself say this,” Emma said to Grace after her father’s steps receded up the stairs, “but I do so wish you and dad could go back to how you were when we left for France.”

  Grace shook her head. “I don't know. He’s so different. And he doesn't actually want me here. I can't stay here if I’m not wanted.”

  “But in a few weeks, I’ll be going back to uni and he’ll be all on his own.”

  “That’s what he says he wants. To be left alone. Maybe he’s having a nervous breakdown or has severe depression or both but I can't make him go to see a doctor if he doesn't want to. And I’m not sure I can stand it much longer. I’d happily put up with it until he gets better - hopefully - if he didn't direct this hostility at me. But you heard what he said just now. Actually I had years of abuse from Greg and really it’s much too painful for it to be happening with another man.”

  “I’ll try and talk to him,” said Emma, “but tomorrow I’m going to go into town.”

  “I DEMAND TO SEE the investigating officer.” Emma had said this so many times her voice was going hoarse. She had been asked to wait, fobbed off, given all manner of excuses. She then had a brain-wave. According to what her father had told her in the past, everyone worried about having complaints being made against them and being sued.

  “If I can't see him, I’m going to lodge a formal complaint and also see my father’s Solicitor about making a claim for his detention and the effect it’s had on him.” She had no idea if either of these things was possible or appropriate in this case but it was worth a try. And it worked. Within a couple of minutes the door to the innards of the station was being unlocked and she was being ushered along a corridor into a room where she was asked to wait. At length a middle aged man came in with a younger man behind him, shook her hand and introduced himself as Detective Inspector Norton and the younger man as Detective Sergeant Pearce.

  They both sat down and without preamble Emma said:

  “What did you do to my father? He’s completely gone to pieces. You can forget as well about any prosecution for abusing me because it didn't happen. Absolutely not. No violence, no abuse. Nothing. We, my boyfriend Luke and I know perfectly well who made the allegation to you. It was Alex Gates wasn't it? I work with her and I would say after due consideration that she’s troubled and needs help. And did you bother to find out that she associates with Greg Bennett who’s the husband of Grace Bennett who’s living with my father? Although for how much longer is debatable. You’ve ruined my father’s life both of you. Do you feel proud of yourselves?”

  “An allegation was made. We were duty bound to investigate.”

  “Yes but wouldn't it have been sensible to speak to me first? And when you found out I wasn't in the country, why didn't you wait until I got back so that you could speak to me? Instead of going busting in there turning his life upside down. He was happy when we left to go to France. Now he’s severely depressed.”

  "A similar allegation was made by another person. With two allegations, as I've said, we were duty bound to investigate."

  "What similar allegation? By whom? When for God's sake?"

  "We are not at liberty to disclose that information."

  Emma shook her head.

  "OK then," she said. "You'll presumably be charging him soon. What with two similar allegations."

  The police officers looked at each other.

  “No,” said Emma, “You won't will you. I can tell that you know you’ve made a cock-up. The other "similar allegation" is just a load of bollocks isn't it! You’ve made no attempt to contact me. You weren't going to were you? You just hoped the dreadful mess you made would disappear. And my room’s been ransacked without my permission.”

  “Your father gave his consent.”

  “Well did he have any choice? And what about me? My bedclothes have been taken away and someone’s cut a hole in my mattress. My college notes were taken. I want them back.”

  Emma sighed. “Alex is a sad little person. I didn't used to think so but now I do. You should have taken the trouble to find out about her. We, that is Luke and me, think she’s living with Greg B
ennett. She’s only about twenty and he must be mid-fifties. And she thought of him as a stepfather. She told me in effect that Greg was one of a string of boyfriends her mother had as she was growing up who tried to abuse her, and maybe they did; I don't know! And she seems to have an infatuation with Greg. How reliable is that? Luke thinks that Alex and Greg concocted the whole thing between them. Are you going to prosecute them for attempting to pervert the course of justice?

  "And this other person. Have you made any attempt to see if she, presumably it's a she, has any connection with Greg Bennett. I bet if you dig about a bit, you'll find that she does. What about her? Are you going to prosecute her for attempting to pervert the course of justice?"

  She’d spent some time on the internet looking up this sort of thing last night before going to bed. Luke had slept on the sofa and she had slept in her old room. She couldn't see things ever going back to normal now this decade at least.

  “Well are you? Do you realise you’ve messed up four lives, my dad’s mainly but everything’s changed for me and Luke and Grace too. It’s never going to be the same again!” And she burst into tears.

  “We were just trying to protect you,” said DI Norton.

  “Well you haven't,” sobbed Emma, “you’ve wrecked my life!”

  “If you’d like to leave your contact details, we’ll send you some information about support groups. Though it’s all available on the internet. If you wish I’ll call a squad car to take you home.”

  That seemed to be it. She accepted the invitation of a lift home and reflected in the car that her little tirade hadn't got her anywhere. But at least she felt a bit better. She’d had a go at those men and possibly frightened them. She’d have to think seriously about making a complaint because she couldn't imagine anything ever being the same again.

  019 Revolving Doors

  "WHAT DO YOU THINK of it? Could you manage to live here until you go to uni?"

  "Yeah. `Course." Luke looked around the little studio flat. It was basically one room with a corner boxed in to form a micro-shower-room. "It'll be fine." He knew it was all his mother could afford. She had apparently asked the prospective landlord before renting it whether Luke could stay here until the middle of September and it had been agreed. Therefore he would be camping out here now for a couple of weeks. Tomorrow he was moving his stuff out of the summer house and bringing it all here. His brother Ryan was driving him. His mother couldn't face going back to Mayfield Cottages.