by David Hatton
‘Why don’t we finish these drinks and go back to my room.’
Hiding the half-drunk bottle of wine in her handbag, she grabbed her purse and escaped the restaurant, while Geoff held back and paid the bill. As they meandered the winding cobbled paths back to the hotel, she peered over the cliffs towards the ships crossing the channel, before glancing back at the man she planned to leave the following morning.
‘It seems so unfair.’ She sniffled. ‘I’ve only just found you again and I’m having to leave.’
‘I’m guessing I can’t convince you to stay?’
‘I really can’t, Geoff. I’m sorry.’
‘I still love…’
‘Don’t.’ She placed a hand over his mouth. ‘I can’t go back there.’
‘I do though.’
‘Me too,’ she said.
‘Well… we’ll always have tonight.’
They embraced and he planted a passionate kiss upon her lips. A damp gale forced them back to the white-stoned bed and breakfast, clinging on to the crumbling cliffs. The lit bedroom window provided the approaching ship a sign that light was near. A silhouette of a short stocky psychic closed the drapes on the illuminated boudoir, casting Dover into darkness.
A burning headache woke Jackie, a delayed punishment for her over-indulgence the previous evening. To her right, the naked frame of her former lover snored. Beside him, a bedside cabinet held the remains of their wine. Geoff appeared peaceful, without a care in the world; a world away from the heavy torment that nibbled at her mind.
She exhaled and fell on her back, wrapping the corners of the pillow around her ears to massage the pain, which rubbed her temples. As she rocked from side to side, she captured a glimpse of the matching bedside table to her left. On top, an alarm clock flashed the time. The ferry was due in less than an hour.
Separating the sheet from the overlying blanket, she slipped out of the bed and used the cover to hide her nudity. She slipped into the lounge of her suite and collected her clothes, which she’d passionately thrown off on their arrival.
As she collated her belongings, she lifted the newspaper highlighting her crimes in the bottom of her handbag. She took out the paper and found a notepad beside the television. She wrote a short note and left it on the coffee table.
Geoff, this is the real me. Thank you for your kindness. I know I couldn’t say it last night, but I’ll always love you. Jackie x
She left the hotel and ran down to the coast. She searched her pockets and lifted out a passport and handed it to the gentleman boarding the passengers onto his ship.
‘Suzanne Walker?’ he asked as he scanned the document.
‘That’s me!’ she said with a forced smile.
‘On you go. Enjoy your trip.’
She stepped on and made her way to the top deck and watched the sunrise. She looked out towards the B&B she’d just left and saw a light appear in the room she’d slept within. Geoff would now be reading her note.
A horn blew, scaring away the seagulls that clung to the side of the boat. An engine started. She sighed with relief as the ship pushed off from the shore.
She’d escaped.
As the white cliffs grew further away, she smiled and kissed goodbye to the United Kingdom and all its memories.
Sirens disturbed her moment of serenity. Flashing blue and red lights appeared, white and blue cars zooming towards the shore. And then the ship’s engine stopped.
28.
“If you enter this world knowing you are loved and you leave this world knowing the same, then everything that happens in between can be dealt with.”
- Michael Jackson (1992)
It had been a year to the day since Jackie Wallace had been caught on the Dover to Calais ferry and charged with the murder of Suzanne Walker. Her tour was cancelled, along with her TV series. Her reputation was in tatters. She was sentenced to life imprisonment after she confessed to the murder. Too much evidence was stacked against her. Her night with Geoff also brought a realisation of who she’d become since his departure and the Jacqueline that she herself had left behind. He wrote to her a few weeks into her sentence.
Jackie,
As you can imagine it was quite a surprise to find out you were on the run for murder. I wanted to believe the papers had got it wrong but I assumed from your note that it was to be quite apt. It would have been nice to have heard your side of the story. I’m sorry I had to call the police; I couldn’t allow you to keep running your entire life. I’ll always remember the last night we spent together. I hope you manage to get yourself together and become the Jackie who I once knew and loved.
Love always, Geoff x
She didn’t write back; there was little left to say.
Since entering Strangeways, she’d lived a lonely life. The only visitor she’d had so far was her lawyer. Few spoke to her inside. Then one day she had a visitor’s order from someone completely unexpected; she was too intrigued to say no. She accepted and two weeks later she walked into the visitors’ hall in her sweat-suit and blue bib to find her guest waiting for her.
‘Margaret. This is a surprise.’ Jackie lifted out her arms to embrace her sister but she remained seated. She sat before her twin and allowed her to take the stage. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I felt the Christian thing would be to come and visit you, not that you deserve it.’
‘How kind,’ Jackie replied with an air of sarcasm.
‘You’ve really brought shame on the family, Jackie. The girls at church haven’t stopped talking about it. I’m so embarrassed.’
‘What’s changed?’ Jackie shrugged.
‘What’s happened to you, Jackie? How have you become this murderous monster?’
‘I guess I learn from the best…’ said Jackie and folded her arms.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Well it’s not just the fact that we shared a womb which we have in common, is it, Mags?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Don’t be coy with me, sis. I know what you did to Mam.’
‘What the hell are you going on about?’
‘All those years you spent judging me about my career being ungodly. You only joined the church after Mam died and we all know why. You sought forgiveness.’
‘Forgiveness for what?’ Margaret’s eyes widened.
‘You didn’t hear me in the house that day, did you? I came home. I let myself in to come and support you. Maybe do some cleaning. I didn’t hear anyone in the house and assumed Mam was upstairs so I quietly walked up and saw you both together, the pillow over her face.’
‘Stop this.’
‘I know what I saw, Maggie. And all this time I’ve said nothing.’
‘You left me alone for months with her. She was in pain and I couldn’t cope anymore.’
‘Hey, I’m not judging,’ Jackie said and rubbed the arm of her sister, who quickly pulled away. ‘Just don’t come over here giving me a lecture about morals when you have few yourself.’
Margaret stood up and glared at her sister.
‘You’re going to hell, Jackie,’ she said as she marched off.
‘I’ll see you there!’
Robert Walker was served a four-month sentence for perverting the course of justice after keeping his wife’s secret in the hit and run. The judge had little sympathy for the man who encouraged his wife to drive away from his dying nephew.
He never visited Elizabeth. There wasn’t a chance of his forgiveness after she sold them both down the river. She’d invested time and money revealing secrets, leading to their demise. Soon after his release, he received a phone call from a prison warden at Strangeways, informing him that he’d been nominated as Elizabeth’s next of kin. She’d been attacked and had miscarried his child. She’d invited him to visit but he turned down her request. He had no interest to begin mourning a child he hadn’t known about in the first place.
He left prison jobless and broke. The house and his car were sold to pay for his lega
l fees. At least he wouldn’t have to make a pay-out to Elizabeth after their separation, not that he had anything to give. He went on a rehabilitation course for ex-prisoners and managed to find a job down at a builder’s yard part-time, nearby his bedsit.
Elizabeth was sentenced to eight and a half years for the hit-and-run which killed her nephew, as well as a lifetime ban from driving. Robert filed for divorce shortly after on the grounds of unreasonable behaviour and she happily signed. Since Jason’s death their marriage had fallen apart. He blamed her for her clumsiness and then her inability to cope while he cleaned up ‘her’ mess. It led to two years of abuse and an unwanted pregnancy, which she was able to explain away as a miscarriage. That last night of passion together before her arrest made her wonder if life with Robert could be good again but she soon realised how foolish she had been.
Her life in prison became a little easier after losing her second child. Initially she mourned the baby she’d always desired, but she struggled to justify bringing up an infant in a turbulent environment, so she figured eventually it was for the best. She was in no fit state to be a mother.
Lusty and her gang were charged with assault. They received lengthier sentences and were moved away from Elizabeth, who was now protected around the clock. Karen was moved into Elizabeth’s cell and while life was far from what either of them ever imagined, it could have been a lot worse. They had each other. Her love for Karen had been the closest thing she’d had since the early days of her marriage to Robert. She gave Elizabeth passion, comfort and the affection she’d craved for most of her adult life.
Elizabeth had seen Jackie roaming the prison but they’d avoided each other for the most part. Jackie kept to herself and Elizabeth spent most of her days playing cards with Karen. Not only had Jackie broken her trust and murdered her sister-in-law, she’d allowed her to believe that heart-warming messages had been left for her from the beyond. The latter was the hardest to swallow. She came across murderers in her new home every day but Jackie had deceived her in the most personal way. She had little left to say to the ‘medium’ but she did have some questions which she needed to be answered. She approached her one day in the canteen.
‘Hello, Jackie.’
‘Oh hey,’ she replied with a mellow voice.
‘May I sit?’ Jackie nodded and lifted her hands to the chair before her. ‘I’ve wanted to come and see you for a while, I just haven’t had the courage to open up that side of my life again.’
‘You know I’m not really a medium, don’t you? I can’t give you any more messages from beyond the grave.’
‘Oh I know that. I did need to ask you something though.’
‘Of course. I feel I owe you at least that.’
‘You see, that night you came to my house. I told you it was me who killed Jason. But on the television, you told the world it was Robert. I wanted to know why?’
Jackie looked the feeble woman up and down. Elizabeth still remained bruised and the scars on her wrists would never disappear. She tilted her head and wondered if any answer would really help this poor girl.
‘Well I figured it made a better story. The man who killed the missing woman also killed the son. And what a killer headline! A story of deceit from his own brother too. I’d achieved it until you came along and confessed to everything.’
Elizabeth nodded, bowed her head and picked up her tray, ready to walk away.
‘That wasn’t the only reason though.’ Jackie placed her hand on Elizabeth’s scarred arm. ‘You came to my house every week for months, talking about your loved ones. You really get to know the people who believe you can answer everything for them. You see, Elizabeth, even when you told me you’d killed your nephew, I knew you were truly sorry and it was an accident.’
‘But why Robert?’
‘You don’t have to be a psychic to see how much he’s hurt you. He’s destroyed your self-esteem and I imagine pushed you around a few times too.’
‘It’s much worse than that.’ Elizabeth bowed her head.
‘I also had the displeasure of meeting that pig-headed husband of yours. He deserved everything coming to him. Elizabeth, you’re a good person. I hope you in time manage to forgive yourself.
‘Thank you,’ she mumbled. Across the room, Karen sat shuffling her cards. ‘I better go.’ She stood up, collected her tray and joined her companion. Jackie sat back and watched Elizabeth’s face light up as she saw her cell-mate and was pleased to see that happiness could be found in the darkest of places.
In Salford, Michael sat in his apartment, which finally felt like home. A lot had happened since he’d moved in and only now could he unpack the boxes and really enjoy the view of the ship canal. He’d packed in the cigarettes but he still enjoyed a beer, in moderation, as he sat out on his balcony and watched the commuter boats and cargo ships make their way to Liverpool.
He made monthly trips to his parents’ house in the Lake District. The three of them would go out sailing on Lake Windermere, share stories, laugh and cry as they remembered Suzanne and little Jason.
Back home, he was enjoying his new life on the Quays. He’d quit his job after Jackie’s confession. His manager couldn’t cope with another media storm. He’d tried other jobs but the press soon got hold of his new employers and called daily, attempting to source an interview. The story eventually died down, but to his co-workers, he was always going to be the man who lost his kid and was duped into a psychic’s lair. They either laughed at him behind his back or felt sorry for him; he didn’t respect either. And so he left.
Rather than keeping his head down, he exploited the media attention and agreed to paid interviews in the local papers and on television. He needed the money and he figured people literally killed to become famous, so why shouldn’t he take advantage of this opportunity? Mediums exploit other people’s grief, surely he was allowed to exploit his own?
And this led to the release of his debut book: Psychics: The ‘Magic’ Behind the Mediums. A tell-all based on his experience with Jackie and how she’d found the information to persuade others that she had a sixth sense. He’d written it partially for himself; he’d paid hundreds of pounds on counselling to have someone listen to him, now people paid to listen to him. He also wanted to prevent others from being hurt and misled by these supposed psychics.
The profits he made from the sale were put towards a memorial bench for his wife and son, whom he’d loved and lost through two separate tragedies and yet both cases had been clouded by mystery and deceit. The memorial sat in a park near Didsbury, where Jason used to play on the swings at the weekends. He used this space as somewhere he could visit and reflect when he found himself having a bad day. The bench meant he had a place to talk to his wife and son, quietly in a tranquil environment, without the need for a medium. He didn’t know if there was an afterlife; despite Jackie’s lies, she had opened up his mind and he hoped that in some way Suzanne and Jason were still out there together, waiting for him when he eventually joined them.
It was a warm summer’s day and the sun was still out in the late evening. He’d spent the afternoon refreshing the flowers beside the bench, which friends, family and former neighbours had left on what would have been Jason’s birthday earlier in the week. He browsed through the cards attached to the gifts and found one from his brother.
‘I’m sorry you’re here. It’s all my fault. Forgive me, Uncle Robbie x’
Michael pulled his brother’s flowers away from the display and walked over to the bin, hovering the bunch above the collection of old pizza boxes and empty bottles of wine. He sighed and held them back. Returning to the bench, he replaced the flowers and neatened up the display.
As he walked back to his car, he spotted a familiar face. A jogger with long flowing ginger hair, dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a white vest, was huffing and puffing as she ran past.
‘Louise!’ he yelled. His former colleague turned around. Her red, sweaty face sported a glowing smile.
�
�Michael!’ she gleefully replied. She ran back and embraced him, wiping her perspiration off his top. ‘It’s so nice to see you. It’s been a long time.’
‘What are you doing round here? You’re a fair trek from town.’
‘I’m preparing for a ten-mile run and so here I am, seven miles into it. Only three more miles to go!’ She shot her arms up in the air in celebration.
‘Couldn’t you have just run circular around your home for the same distance?’
He watched her face calculate his suggestion, before slapping her face with her palm.
‘What am I like?’
‘Well you’re a fair distance from your flat. Would you like a ride home?’
He pointed towards to the white Mazda sports car outside of the entrance of the park.
‘That would be great, thank you.’
They made their way back to the car, turning and smiling to each other every few yards.
‘Hey, maybe we could go out sometime?’
Her glowing smile stretched her cheeks.
‘Yeah I’d like that, but maybe we don’t see a medium this time.’
They broke into laugher and stepped into the car. The engine started and they drove off back into Manchester, blissfully unaware of what the future would hold for them.
THE END
Note from the Author (Alert – Spoilers included!)
The work of mediums has always interested me and the art of deception provides a perfect plot for any novel. Death is another factor which fascinates most people as none of us will ever really know the reality until it finally happens to us.
As part of the research for this novel, I read up on the work of Derren Brown, James Randi and even Houdini, who have all exposed the tricks of supposed psychics. What became most interesting is while the art of deception arrives from the medium, it’s the client or the believer themselves who really makes the magic come alive as they buy into the vaguest of messages, often dismissing incorrect readings from their memory and clinging on to the few correct hits which resonate with them. It’s only human for us to linger on to the hope that those we lost are still around, and a message from the beyond is even more comforting.