The Man Behind Closed Doors

by Maria Frankland

  “Did she definitely say it was her mother who had smashed the TV?” Simon looks from her across to the jurors again.

  “She did. Which was when we decided to bring in Mr Jackson, on his own, to discuss the situation.” She gestured up to where he sat in the dock. “We thought that to invite both her parents in, would exacerbate an already delicate set of circumstances.”

  “And?”

  “Well, he came in quickly. We noticed he avoided eye contact completely as my colleague and I spoke to him. In fact, his eyes were mostly fixed on the floor throughout the entire conversation. And he was guarded in his answers.”

  “At the time, why did you think he was, as you said, guarded?”

  “I have no evidence, only the impression that he seemed depressed and anxious. We could tell there was something going on. I’ve seen mothers act in this way when things are the other way around.” She swapped her hands from side to side as if to demonstrate her point. “He admitted there were problems and said he was trying to sort them out. He was vague about things and uncomfortable, as if he couldn’t leave fast enough. He did promise he would talk with Mrs Jackson though.”

  “Did you take it any further after that?”

  “No, we decided to keep a close eye on Emily and a written record of anything untoward.”

  “And was there anything else?”

  “No. Nothing specific.”

  “Have you tried to discuss the night her mother became injured with her? Or did she try to talk about it with you?”

  Paul’s shoulders are rigid with tension and he is aching from the stress of the trial. Has Emily said anything to her teacher? This could be crucial.

  “No.” Mrs Stratton looks pensive. “She’s gone from being a little girl who we would have to remind to be quiet when she was sat on the carpet, to not speaking at all. We can’t quite believe it”

  Simon glances at his notes. “I understand there’s work in progress to address this?”

  “Yes. There’s a child psychologist involved. But she’s not making a great deal of progress. Emily is not saying anything.”

  “We’ve seen the psychologist’s report,” Simon says softly, “and there’s nothing within it that can shine any light in respect of the case we are dealing with. There is a copy of this report in the evidence bundle.” He nods towards Judge Lakin and the jurors, then turns back to Mrs Stratton. “Have you anything else you’d like to add?”

  “We will keep trying. As a school, I mean, to return her to the little chatterbox she used to be. We keep reminding her of bubble time and she’s a wonderful little artist. Sometimes emotion or memory comes out that way.”

  “Quite. Thank you. No further questions.”

  “I have two questions for this witness,” states Margaret as she gets to her feet. “Firstly, did Emily say she had actually seen her mother destroying the family’s TV?”

  “No. She did not. She just said she knew it was her.”

  “And did she talk about them both being angry and shouting or just one of them?”

  Mrs Stratton glances towards Paul again. “Erm both, I think, but…”

  “Thank you. That will be all.”

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Paul watches as Nick ascends the three steps into the witness box and swears his oath.

  “Mr Hambleton,” Simon begins. “You are a family friend of the Jacksons?”

  “That is correct.”

  “How long have you known them?”

  “I’ve only known Michelle since she got together with Paul, but I’ve known Paul for over twenty years. We were at college together. We’d have been sixteen when we met.”

  A memory flashes into Paul’s mind of their collar length hair, drainpipe jeans and the world at their feet.

  “It wasn’t long after Paul had lost his parents in a car accident. I’d lost my dad to cancer the previous year. Perhaps this was what made us such close mates.”

  “Did you spend time with the Jacksons as a couple, or only with Paul?”

  “My friendship is with Paul so I generally saw him on his own. But my wife and I,” he nods towards Jacqui in the public gallery, “spent time with them as a couple as well.”

  “How would you describe their relationship?” Simon twists his own wedding ring.

  “They were happy at first. But then, aren’t most couples?”

  Paul thinks Nick seems comfortable in the witness stand. “But it was pretty full on. I thought Michelle was intense. She didn’t want to share Paul. With anyone.”

  “What gave you that impression?”

  Paul instantaneously recalls a time when Jacqui had suggested they all take the kids on a camping trip. I don’t think so, Michelle had protested. We’d prefer to make our own holiday arrangements. He can recall her voice throughout nights out that they’d had all been on. Paul, I want to go home!

  Nick continues, “Michelle was always reluctant to make arrangements that involved her and Paul spending time with us; she preferred to have him completely to herself. She was jealous if there were a few of us out and hated him talking to other women. Even ones that were there with their partners. She tolerated us.” Nick fiddles with his cufflinks as he speaks. “Towards the end though, he’d lost touch with a lot of them. To keep the peace at home, he had to let some friendships slide.”

  “Did Paul confide in you about his marriage?”

  “Sometimes, although details had to be dragged out of him. He seemed trapped. I stressed a bit about him sometimes. My wife would vouch for that!” He looks back up at Jacqui. “Paul became someone different from the easy-going man I’d always known. He seemed on edge and put a lot of energy into keeping things amicable at home.”

  “In what way?”

  “He could never spend time away. Even when he had Emily in tow, Michelle would constantly ring him. I know she was threatened by relationships he had with anyone, male or female. Oh, and he was always broke,” Nick adds. “I would guess she controlled all the money. It was the final few months when I would say things were at their worst.”

  “Go on.” Simon takes several steps away from the witness box, as if to give the jury a better view.

  “There was the time he ended up in hospital.” Nick takes a deep breath. “Michelle had launched a plant pot at his head. After she’d wrecked the house. He should have had her done for it but I know he was too ashamed. Because she’s a woman, she got away with it. The system’s all wrong. If she’d been a man…” He looks across at the media presence then back at Simon. “I blamed myself when that happened, after all, it was me who had dragged him to the pub.”

  “Imogen! Jack!” Paul recalls how Emily had shrieked with delight as she raced towards her friends.

  “Right that’s them off our hands,” grinned Nick, pushing a pint of beer towards Paul. “I think we can chill out for a bit. Nice day for it.” He slid back in his chair. “How’s it all going with you?”

  “Hanging in there mate. Not too good.” He took a sip of his beer. “I’m expecting some results on Monday.”

  “Results?” Nick looked uneasy. “You’re alright, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, not me.” Paul looked over to where the children were playing on the climbing frame, out of earshot. He’d already planned he was going to tell Nick. He was going crazy with it. “DNA results.”

  “DNA results!” Nick bellowed, then lowered his voice. “Who for?”

  “Michelle keeps telling me Emily’s not mine.” Paul tried to avoid Nick’s eyes. His life was like a soap opera. “It’s doing my head in.”

  “Hell.” Nick let out a low whistle. “After all that with the ‘other man’ situation too. Just when you think someone can’t stoop any lower.”

  “I know. I don’t think I believe her. It’s just, well, she won’t stop going on about it.” His fingers cleared the condensation from his glass in a downwards motion as he spoke. “The thought of it being true is making me ill. It’s not that I’d love Emily any less, it�
�s well, Michelle keeps threatening that she can take her away from me. Stop me seeing her. She’ll make out I’ve no rights and no say over Emily and all that kind of thing.”

  Nick lifted his sunglasses, so they rested on his head and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  “Anyway,” Paul continued. “I had to put my mind at rest. So I know either way. At least then I know what I’m dealing with. I’ve used one of those mail order kits.”

  “They cost a fortune, don’t they? How does it work?”

  “A swab from me; and one from Emily; I took it before she cleaned her teeth the other day. Said it was for the dentist. Thankfully, she didn’t ask any questions.”

  “Will it be accurate?”

  “Apparently. I’m having the result sent into work.”

  “Wise move. At least Michelle can’t do any more damage, that way. Make sure you let me know as soon as you find out.” He wagged a finger at his friend. “I’m sure it’ll show up as you being her dad. I’ll be gob smacked if it goes the other way. She’s the image of you!”

  “That’s what Alana says.”

  “You talk a lot about Alana. There’s nothing going on is there?”

  “Nah. I’ve enough on my plate!”

  “She’s bang tidy though. No one would blame you. Especially living with what you’ve got to live with.”

  “Well I’m not. She’s a friend – that’s it.”

  “What will you do if Emily’s not yours?”

  It was a question Paul could hardly bring himself to contemplate.

  “Dunno.” He shook his head. “Whatever happens, I’ll cope.”

  “How you’re still with that woman is beyond me.” Nick took a gulp from his pint. “Me, I’d have been long gone.”

  “It’s not as simple as that,” Paul said quietly, peering into his glass. “Unless you’re in my situation, you can’t understand. Nobody can.”

  “Try me. I want to know what’s keeping you there.”

  “If I was to leave, I’d not only lose my wife. I’d lose my daughter, home, possessions, everything.” He ‘counted’ the items on his fingers as he reeled them off. “Michelle controls the lot. Whoever said it’s a man’s world is having a laugh.”

  “I don’t know how you live like it. What are you going to do?”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” They looked across to where Emily was playing, happily oblivious to it all.

  “There’s always a sofa at ours, you know.” They’d had the same conversation on many occasions.

  “Thanks mate. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” he said. “But I’m her husband.” He drummed his fingers against his glass. “If only she’d see the doctor for some anti-depressants or something. If she’d trust me.” He momentarily closed his eyes.

  “There might come a point when you’ve to face you can’t fix it. You can’t…”

  They looked at the phone which screeched menacingly between them on the table. Nick viewed it with distaste. “Turn it off. I’m nipping to the bar.”

  Paul laughed, with feigned bravery.

  “It’s awful, you always having to pay for stuff,” Paul groaned as Nick returned from the bar with another pint for them both and the menu for bar meals between his teeth.

  “It’s fine mate.” He put the glasses down and passed Paul the menu. “You can return the favour when you’ve escaped. You will one day, you know.”

  “Maybe,” Paul pretended to be absorbed in the menu.

  “He was lucky you were there for him.” Simon’s voice brings Paul back into the crowded, yet silent courtroom.

  “He wouldn’t talk about it. He’d clam up. It was as though he thought he should be handling things differently but didn’t know how to. He was scared of her, I think. Of her moods and her unpredictability.”

  “Do you know of any other violent incidents?”

  “Like I said, he was ashamed. He would have kept them to himself.”

  “It sounds like it was a deeply troubled marriage.”

  “It wasn’t his fault. He’s an average bloke wanting a quiet life.”

  “Thank you. That will be all.” Simon checks his watch.

  Margaret stands. “You described yourself as…” She looks down at some notes. “A friend of the family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet I haven’t heard any words that imply any sort of friendship towards Michelle?”

  “As I said, I knew Paul a lot longer. It was him who needed the support.”

  “But as we’ve heard from Michelle’s mother, friend and neighbour …” Margaret points towards them in turn, “…Michelle, in fact, was in dire need of support. You were only ever interested in hearing one side of things.”

  “Because I knew what was going on.”

  “Like you’ve said yourself, you did not know what was going on. Paul, as you’ve alleged, was too ashamed to discuss his home life. You made assumptions. How could you possibly know what went on in their household?”

  “I knew enough. I knew how withdrawn he’d become, the weight he’d lost, and the fact that he never had any money on him although he had a good full-time job.” Nick sounds as though he is battling to keep annoyance out of his tone. “I heard her screaming down the phone at him when he was with me as well.”

  “As might many women when endlessly abandoned with their child at home. Especially whilst their husbands are out, gallivanting. And you encouraged this. Perhaps your own wife doesn’t mind but…”

  “Irrelevant.” Simon called out.

  “Agreed.” Said Judge Lakin. “Stick to the Jackson’s marriage.”

  “You’re bound to defend him,” Margaret continued. “I’m unsure as to why you’ve been called as a witness.”

  “Because I offered him an escape.” Nick’s voice rises. “She hated me. I hated her. I wouldn’t blame him if he’d snapped to be honest.”

  Paul stares at his friend, dumbfounded. He resists the urge to shout at him across the courtroom. He’s done for.

  “No further questions,” Margaret smiles.

  Chapter Forty

  Paul watches as Nurse Matthew Fraser walks to the witness stand. He was woozy when he last saw him and he would never have recognised him again, had he not been introduced to the court. His introduction to him had been because of the afternoon he spent in the beer garden with Nick and the kids.

  He had walked home from the pub with Emily. She had picked some flowers to take back to Michelle. Paul hoped they would pacify her, knowing she would not be happy at him for having had a few beers and lunch without her. She’d been with her mother but that wouldn’t make any difference. As he approached the house, his lunch curdled within him as he contemplated her mood.

  “I’m back,” he called, throwing open the door. The sun streamed into the gloomy hallway and an ‘earthy’ smell sprang back at them. Carla, her ears flat against her head, had attempted to conceal herself beneath the staircase, in between the vacuum cleaner and the ironing board.

  “Emily, take Carla upstairs.” Emily shot over to her and then upstairs. Paul picked his way through the soil and broken pot scattered across the floor. Its point of contact was evident; there was a huge dent in the plasterwork. The house was heavy with silence. Where was she?

  Melancholy grabbed his chest, and squeezed hard, as he noticed a photo, looking as though it had been stamped on. An image of him and Michelle, clad in their wedding clothes smiled up at him from behind shards of broken glass. He jumped as the living room door was opened.

  “What have you done?” Paul looked at Michelle.

  “It’s your fault.”

  “How? I wasn’t here.” Digging his hands into his pockets, he tried to keep his voice low.

  “Exactly. You’re never here. And you switched your phone off, as usual.” Her voice was dead. She stood with one hand on her hip.

  “I met Nick and the kids whilst you were at your mums.” Paul bent down and picked up the larger
pieces of broken pot.

  “Talking about me, no doubt.”

  “You think you’re so important, don’t you? Do you think I’ve nothing else to talk about in my life apart from you? Perhaps now and again I need to escape from here and from you? From all this!” Paul stood up and placed the pieces he had collected on the table.

  “Why’ve you even come back?” Michelle spat the words at Paul.

  “I live here.”

  “For now, you do. Push me any further and I’ll make sure you end up with nothing. There’s not a court anywhere, that would give you the house, or Emily.”

  “You underestimate me.” He took a dustpan and brush from under the stairs. “And you forget where I work Michelle.”

  “Emily’s not yours,” she spoke in a loud voice. “You’re not her father!”

  “Shut up,” he hissed. “I’m starting to hate you. One day you’ll get what’s coming to you. And I’ll know next week about Emily. I’ve had a test…”

  A blow to the side of his head silenced him. Her rage echoed in his ears as he dropped to the floor. She’d managed to clock him despite her smaller frame compared to his. Soil and pot surrounded him. The hallway swirled around. On his hands and knees, he tried to balance. A sickly, woozy sensation stole over him as he noticed blood dripping from his head onto the black and white tiles they had painstakingly chosen. With all the strength he could muster, he reached into his jacket pocket and dialled Nine. Nine. Nine.

  “Police please.” Paul sensed her coming up behind him but he was unable to prevent her from grabbing the phone from his hand and throwing it at the wall. Thank God he’d connected to the police though. He’d have been in trouble otherwise. He put a hand to his wound. “Will you bring me a towel please? And a glass of water. I don’t feel good.”