“Where are you off to?” Michelle’s bracelets jangled as she reached into her bag.
“To the amusements.” He smiled as Emily’s head jerked up in excitement. “We’ll pick something up on the way back. Do you fancy a steak later? After we’ve put Emily to bed?”
“Could do, I suppose.” She slid the bank card across the table. “In fact, that sounds lovely.” She smiled at the bar man as he removed her old glass from the table.
“I don’t know the PIN.” He took his wallet from his pocket and inserted the card. “You changed it, remember?”
“Two, three, zero, nine. Our wedding day.” She smiled. “You won’t be ages, will you?” Her eyes narrowed and her smile vanished.
“I’ll try not to be.” He jumped to his feet, nearly hitting his head on the parasol and laughing as the dog jumped up too.
“You can’t come Carla.” Emily patted her head. “Dogs aren’t allowed on rides. You stay with Mummy.”
“Well don’t leave me on my own all day.” Michelle drained her glass.
Paul hoped she would not drink much more as he kissed the top of her head.
You’re choosing to be left on your own so stop giving me grief, he wanted to say but thought better of it. Inside himself, he swung between humour and irritation that she had the cheek to demand of them not to be long. Surely she didn’t expect them to stop there and watch her get slaughtered.
Emily fiddled with the radio stations as they approached the sea front. “Why didn’t Mummy want to come?”
“She’s a bit tired. We can still enjoy ourselves, can’t we?”
“I wish Mummy was like Imogen’s mummy.”
“Don’t say that Emily. You only ever have one mum.” Michelle would go mad if Emily ever said anything like that in front of her. “Blimey it’s packed. It’s going to take ages to park.”
Paul tried not to notice couples and families everywhere he looked. Outwardly they may have appeared happy and united but who knew what went on behind the scenes? To outside eyes, he and Michelle probably looked like a perfectly happy couple too.
“Can we go on the water chute, Daddy?” They watched as the logs sprayed sparkling water into the afternoon sunshine. Emily grabbed his hand, attempting to steer him in the required direction.
“Go on then,” he grinned, coercing himself to cheer up as he clasped her hand. After the ride, they continued to wander around. Paul tried to ignore the heavy dragging in his belly. He supposed it was better than the angry knives that often lived inside him. Michelle’s drinking and mood swings were gnawing away at their family. To be parted from her made him anxious, yet he dreaded returning too.
He ‘raced’ on the bikes with Emily inside an amusement arcade whilst the flashing lights, disco music and whoops of enjoyment tried to press his mood into a sunnier one. But he could not shake Michelle from his thoughts. Would she still be in a decent mood? How much would she have had to drink? He had been looking forward yet dreading this holiday in equal measures. It was a chance to relax but an opportunity for her to drink more.
He and Emily traipsed around the supermarket, slinging in steak, potatoes and pepper sauce. In the wine and beers aisle, he paused, but thought better of buying any. It had only been a few days since she had last ‘lost it’ with him.
Scanning the faces of other shoppers, he yearned for their triviality as they went about their lives. To return home and flop in front of the TV, or go for a stroll. Not having to justify every move or respond to jealous allegations.
Calvert leans forward across the table whilst his colleague starts a new sheet of interview paper. “When you returned to your holiday cottage,” he asks, “had your wife returned by then?”
“Yes. It was late. I’d stopped off with Emily on the way back as she needed some tea and I knew it would be a while before her mother and I would be eating. At first I thought Michelle was still out but then I realised she was sleeping.”
“In the bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“And at what time was this? Your return to the cottage?”
“Around eighty thirty pm.” Paul glances up at the clock. It’s only a few hours ago yet it’s like an eternity.
Calvert runs his finger down a sheet of paper. “You arrived back two hours and twenty minutes before you made the three nines call to the police?”
“Yes, that sounds about right.” Paul is too exhausted to work this out clearly. He must stay focused. He hopes he’s saying the right things.
“What happened in that time? The two hours and twenty minutes.”
Paul hesitates. “Michelle was groggy and grumpy; she always is when she’s had a drink earlier in the day.”
“How do you know this?”
What a stupid question. “I’ve been with her for ten years. I know when she’s in a bad mood. She shouted at me for not waking her earlier.”
“Then what happened?”
“At her request, we sent Emily to bed and I was chopping salad up for dinner.” Paul rubs at his eyes. They are burning with exhaustion.
“In the kitchen?”
Another stupid question. What planet is this man on? Perhaps I should tell him I usually chop salad next to the toilet. “Yes. Michelle came through after she had woken up. She was upset I had been out with Emily for the day and the evening.”
“What do you mean, upset? How did you know?”
“She was complaining she was sick of always being on her own and she thought I didn’t love her anymore.”
“What exactly did she say?” Calvert asks.
“I’m not sure … Something like I can’t believe you’ve left me all day, like you do at home, we’re supposed to be on holiday. Then she said I didn’t love her. ”
“And is she right in this fear?”
“What fear?” Paul wonders what he’s on about. Has he listened to a word of what he’s said?
“That you don’t love her?”
“No of course not, we were only married last September. We’re having problems, granted, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love her.”
“Quite.” Calvert’s face relaxes into a ghost of a smile. “Do you ‘leave’ her on her own often?”
Paul isn’t sure what he’s driving at and wonders for a minute if he should have contacted John. He’ll ring him in the morning if things aren’t resolved. “Not at all, I told you how it was today. We weren’t leaving her out, she had a choice.”
“Did you remind her of this?”
“I didn’t have the chance. Like I said, she was in a foul mood, and she had started throwing things at me.” Paul stares at the table, fixated on his clasped hands. He hates admitting to all this.
“Like what?”
“Silly things.” He hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. What a man he must sound like. That’s if they believe him. “The salt pot, a shoe, a can of hairspray.”
“And did you retaliate?”
“No, I was trying to calm her down. Emily was fast asleep. I’d checked on her and didn’t want her woken up by us rowing.” This is hard to admit to. Paul feels like more of a failure.
“Are these rows a regular thing?”
“It’s up and down.” Paul sighs. No one could possibly understand the unpredictability of his situation. Anything could set her off.
“So, you had objects raining across the kitchen at you. What did you do?”
“Left the chopping. Tried to get away from her. But then she grabbed the knife.”
“And?”
“She held it towards her chest saying if I didn’t love her, she may as well not be here anymore. I’ve heard it millions of times. I never thought she meant it!” As he says the words, Paul senses how far-fetched the whole thing must sound. Not to mention how insane his wife comes across. He imagines she’s been doing a good performance in the hospital if she’s come around. Blaming him. Making him out to be some kind of wife beater. He hates her right now.
“And all this was going on with your
little daughter in the property?”
“She was asleep.”
“What happened next?”
“I told her I was off for a walk. Give her chance to calm down.”
“You left your daughter with her in that frame of mind?”
“Michelle loves Emily.” Paul throws his hands upwards as he speaks. “And like I said, she was fast asleep. And I thought she’d stay that way if I took myself out of the picture for a bit.”
“Where did you go?”
“I had a pint in the pub we’d been in earlier.”
“And what time was this?” Calvert looks at his watch.
“I don’t know. Around ten pm?” God, what he’d give to be back there. He should have carried on drinking. Any other bloke would have done. What a bloody idiot he’s been. He should have stayed away.
“Can anyone confirm this? Who did you speak to?”
“Just the bar staff.”
“Right, can you give a description?”
“A man and a woman. I don’t know … the man was about my age, maybe a bit younger, I can’t remember to be honest, I didn’t take much notice. The woman had red hair.”
“Right, she shouldn’t be too hard to track down. Anyone else?”
“No. It was empty, like it had been when we were in earlier. There were loads of people sat outside though. Another man asked me about the racing results, but I can’t remember what he looked like.” Why am I having to recall this? The banality hits Paul. This is not important compared to what is going on at the hospital. “I need to know how Michelle is doing. Will this take much…” He jumps in response to an abrupt knock followed by a PC peering around the side of the interview room door.
“DC Calvert, there’s a telephone call for you. I think it’s important.”
“Is it about Michelle?” Paul senses it is, by the way the constable is avoiding his eye. “I need to know. Please tell me.”
“It is the hospital,” the constable looks at him. “But they haven’t told me anything.”
“I, DC Calvert am leaving the room for a few moments. Interview paused at twelve fifty five am.” Calvert is on his feet and presses a button on the recorder before brushing past his colleague. “I’ll be right back when I’ve found out what’s going on.”
It is the longest five minutes Paul has experienced. Ignoring the presence of the other police officer, he sits motionless, staring at the graffiti carved into the table, willing her to be alright. He could never have imagined things would escalate to this.
“Paul,” Calvert’s voice slices into his thoughts. “I’m afraid it’s not good news. Michelle is in theatre.”
“And?” Paul’s voice croaks. She can’t be dead. She can’t be! He closes his eyes as though he might shut out the words he’s unable to hear. “She’s still alive, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Paul drops his head into his hands. “I thought you were going to say…”
He slips back into the chair opposite him. “She’s lost a lot of blood. They’re transfusing her but the internal injury is apparently causing problems. It sounds like you need to be prepared for the worst.”
“Oh my God!” Paul sits bolt upright. If he’s at her side, he might be able to make a difference. She’s the only one who can change the situation he’s in. She can’t die. “I need to be there!”
“Paul,” Calvert says, contempt apparent in his face. “You’re under arrest. I’m afraid you’re going nowhere.”
“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He wipes away his torrent of tears with the back of his hand. “I would never have hurt her. Never.”
There’s not a hint of emotion in Calvert’s face as he says, “are you really sure you don’t want a solicitor?
Chapter Three
Paul heaves himself into a seated position on the thin mattress as the officer places a tray of ‘breakfast’ beside him. Every part of him aches from thirty six hours in this police station. The aroma of cheap margarine makes his insides churn. The nausea combined with exhaustion is like a hangover.
“Is there any news on my wife?” Paul is gratified for the respite that fitful sleep has provided for a couple of hours, but reality thunders back down on him. He struggles to assemble his jumbled thoughts. How the hell has all this happened?
“Not yet. You’ll be the first to know if we hear anything.” The words ricochet around the concrete walls of the cell like a bullet.
“What about my daughter? Within his blue paper suit, the heat is already stifling. “When can I leave?” He needs to get to them both. Fast.
“Concentrate on your breakfast. You should try and eat something.” The officer walks towards the door, keys jangling. “We’ll be loading the court van shortly. You’ll know more soon.”
As the door clangs, an image of Michelle, bleeding on the floor, swims into his mind. She had appeared close to death, though he senses she is still alive. He’s been charged with attempted murder.
All hope of making sure Emily is alright and him getting to Michelle’s bedside is gone. He’s so exhausted he can barely think straight. Every hour he has spent in custody has felt like a day. They think he’s hurt her. He’s been going through what happened that day, that night, in his mind but it’s all become a blur. From the time of getting back to the holiday cottage with Emily, he can’t recall anything clearly and is worried that his mind is playing tricks somehow.
One day, they will reflect on their ‘holiday’ with a judder, but they will put it behind them. Today everything will be alright. He will make sure it is.
“We’ve got a few minutes before you’re on.” Paul could weep with relief as his colleague, John Gibbs, a criminal law solicitor, appears in the cell below the court. “We need to talk. Quickly.” He rests a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “You’re not on your own out there mate; I’ve brought Alana with me. Your friend is here too. Nick, is it? And your brother. Your mother-in law has been and gone. She has your daughter, well, not here obviously, she’s left her in school.”
“Thank God. They apparently put her with foster parents to start with on the first night.” Paul closes his eyes. “But you shouldn’t have brought Alana.”
John sits beside Paul. “She wouldn’t let me abandon her at the office. She hasn’t stopped talking about you.” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Here, I’ve brought you some clothes to wear. Your mother-in-law, Susan, is it, brought them on her way back to the hospital.”
“Do you know if Emily’s alright?” Paul accepts the small bundle of clothing, glad he’s going to be able to discard the police station ‘clothes.’
“I think so. Susan didn’t say. But she’s her grandma. She’ll be taking good care of her. She’s mainly concerned as to whether Michelle is going to pull through.”
“What a fucking mess!” Paul swings his body around to face John. “You must know I didn’t do it.” He can’t control himself. His shoulders shake as he breaks into fresh sobs. John’s is the first ‘friendly’ face he has seen since being brought in two nights earlier. “I can’t believe this is happening!”
“We’re going to get you out of here.” John squeezes Paul’s shoulder. “Trust me.”
“You’ll be able to sort bail?” He can’t believe he’s crying again. Like that’s going to change anything. “With a charge like this?”
“I’ll do all I can.” John thrusts a hanky into Paul’s hand. “You know I will.”
“I’m glad they were able to contact you. None of it seems real.”
“I know. Whatever’s happened. You should have called me straightaway. I’ve been going through your interview transcript and there’s a few holes in it. We’ll sort it though.”
“What if she dies? Oh my God!” It’s as though actuality keeps batting him around the head. “What an utter nightmare!” He drops his head into his hands. “It should never have happened! Why the hell did it have to happen?”
“I know. I know Paul.”
“I need to see Emily!” Paul sits upright. “What she must be going through!”
“One thing at a time. She’s alright, like I said.”
“I need to know how Michelle’s doing. Nobody’s telling me a thing! She could be dead for all I know! She could be dead!”
“Like I said. Bail first.” John speaks in a firm voice, his hand not leaving Paul’s shoulder the whole time. “Then we’ll contact the hospital. I know it’s easier said than done but you must stay calm. You would have heard if there’d been any change.”
“I can’t stand it,” Paul’s head is still burrowed in his hands.
“Come on, mate.” John claps his back as he hauls himself up. “For now, let’s concentrate on getting you bail.”
Paul’s eyes link with Alana’s as he stands in the dock. She stares at him for a few seconds than looks away. She’s impeccably turned out, as usual, making Paul more aware of his own dishevelment. Nick sits beside her, and nods towards him. David, his brother, offers a weak smile which is difficult to read.
“For the benefit of the court, please state your full name.” The courtroom collapses into a hush. Sunlight glitters through the ornate roof, reminding Paul of normality still progressing beyond these walls.
“Paul Alan Jackson.” His face flames beneath the glare of the overhead lighting.
“Your address?” The eyes of the entire courtroom dart back and forth, as though watching a tennis match between Paul and the court clerk.
“Forty two Bracken Bank, Osbaldwick, York.” His words quiver as they leave him.
“What is your occupation?”
“Legal Executive.”
“Paul Alan Jackson,” The clerk reads from a sheet. “You are charged that on Monday the eleventh of June, at Summerfield Holiday Park, in Filey, you attempted to murder your wife, Michelle Marie Jackson. The purpose of this hearing is not to enter a plea in relation to this matter, but to decide when and where this will take place. It is also an opportunity to process any application for bail.”
The Man Behind Closed Doors Page 2
