The Adulterer's Wife

by Leigh Russell

  Andrew seemed confident he would be able to get bail for me, as he said we had a good case for claiming I wouldn’t be a danger to anyone else. I wondered if my proposed false confession was part of a deal, although he assured me the police didn’t operate like that, outside of films. I was no longer sure what to believe, but I never thought he would succeed in getting me out on bail, so I just stared at him in surprise when he brought me the news.

  ‘I thought you’d be at least a little pleased,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t easy, I can tell you. And we’ve been a tad lucky. Not every judge would have been so sympathetic. Not that I think you don’t deserve it,’ he added quickly. ‘We put up a very strong case. Now, your bail comes with conditions. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  I nodded, still dumbfounded by the news that I was going to be released, at least temporarily.

  ‘It’s taken a while to prepare the application for bail, but it had to be done properly since, in view of the seriousness of the crime you’re accused of we’re only going to have one chance to apply. I had to make sure the application contained all the supporting documentation, including the deeds of your freehold as surety.’

  ‘My house? But what will happen to my son if they take my house away?’

  ‘No one’s going to confiscate your house, as long as you obey the conditions of your bail. You had to agree to put up your property as surety or the application wouldn't have succeeded. Now, you’ll be staying in your own house, as we agreed. The forensic team have finished their search-’

  ‘Did they find anything I don’t know about?’

  ‘I’m not quite sure. I’m waiting to see the reports. I’ll be in touch soon.’

  Again, I nodded. I didn’t say anything, but my brain was working overtime. Andrew went rapidly through but the conditions of my bail, and I had to concentrate to follow what he was telling me.

  ‘You need to go along to your local police station every twenty-four hours, so you won’t be able to travel far. But you will be at home,’ he said, smiling at me. ‘Now, you need to read this and sign it before you go.’

  ‘How soon can I leave?’

  ‘You’ll be escorted out of here tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It didn’t give me long to make my arrangements. As soon as Andrew left, I ran to phone Ackerman. To my relief, he answered his mobile at once.

  ‘Julie, I was just thinking about you-’

  I interrupted his greeting to tell him my news and ask him to bring me some money before the morning.

  ‘Tell you what,’ he replied. ‘Why don’t I come and pick you up tomorrow? What time are they letting you out?’

  I gave him the details.

  ‘All right, I’ll be outside waiting for you.’

  ‘And the money?’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll bring it. Are you going to tell me what you want it for?’

  I glanced around. There was no one standing close enough to hear what I was saying, but I wasn’t sure if the prison phones were secure.

  ‘I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,’ I replied.

  I hardly slept for excitement that night, knowing that what I was planning was risky, stupid even. But nothing was going to change my mind. I was up and ready early the next morning and at ten o’clock a prison officer escorted me out of the prison. In some ways that return to the outside was every bit as frightening as my journey in to the prison had been, each a shift into a different world with its own challenges and dangers, as well as its own comforts and recompenses.

  The gates clanged shut behind me and I was free, within the restrictions of my bail conditions.

  True to his word, Ackerman was waiting for me. I climbed into his old car, and he nodded at me as he pulled away from the kerb.

  ‘Home?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where then?’

  Quickly I explained my plan to him. He slowed down and turned to me, whistling between his uneven teeth.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘You’re aware of the consequences of such a rash course of action?’

  ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘I doubt that very much.’

  ‘Please, I just need to talk to him.’

  ‘And if he refuses to see you, what then? You’ll have broken your bail and lost any chance of any further leniency, for nothing.’ He sounded quite angry with me.

  ‘Say what you like, this is my decision. I’m fully aware of the risk I’m taking-’

  ‘I don’t think you are.’

  ‘I’m going to Edinburgh, with or without your help. So, are you going to take me to the station or not?’

  Ackerman shrugged. ‘You’re the client. I’m only protecting my own interest in trying to keep you out of jail. But if you’re determined to get yourself banged up, I can’t physically stop you, can I? Here, you’d better take these.’ He reached into the side pocket of his door and took out a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses. ‘At least you can try to avoid being apprehended before you even get to Edinburgh.’

  Pocketing the sunglasses, I thanked him. ‘I know it’s probably stupid,’ I added.

  ‘There’s no probably about it.’

  ‘But I have to try. I don’t mind going back to prison to wait for my trial, but I must see Dan and tell him I didn’t kill his father. How can I leave him struggling to cope with that terrible idea? I must convince him I’m innocent. Even if I’m convicted, he must go on believing I didn’t do it. How could he live with himself otherwise, believing his father’s a liar and a cheat, and his mother's a killer? What’s that going to do for his self-image?’

  Ackerman shrugged again. ‘It’s your freedom you should be worried about, not your teenage son’s self-image. I’d say having a mother who skips bail isn’t going to do much to help him.’

  I stared out of the window and didn’t answer. I knew what I had to do. Drawing up near King’s Cross station, Ackerman reached over his shoulder and grabbed an old oilskin from the back seat.

  ‘You might need this in Scotland.’

  He handed it to me together with an envelope. I didn’t stop to count the money but jumped out of the car, slipping on his sunglasses as my feet hit the pavement. By the time I turned to thank him, his car had vanished into the London traffic. Apart from being too warm, I thought the jacket might look conspicuous on a sunny day, so I held it over my arm. Hoping Ackerman’s sunglasses would be mask enough, I crossed the road and entered the mainline station.

  There was a train straight through to Edinburgh departing at midday. The queue at the machine was short and I completed my transaction as quickly as possible. Ackerman had given me a thousand pounds in ten and twenty-pound notes, and a one-way ticket to Edinburgh cost me just under seventy pounds. It would have made sense to buy a return ticket while I was there but, surrounded by security cameras, I was too nervous to think clearly. It didn’t matter. I could take my time buying a return ticket at the station in Edinburgh. No one would be looking for me there.

  I had twenty minutes to spare which I spent buying a less cumbersome raincoat, one that fitted me. Leaving Ackerman’s oilskin on a hanger at the back of the shop, I paid cash and left.

  ‘Sorry, Ackerman,’ I muttered as I hurried away.

  With what I had already paid him, he could afford to buy himself a new coat. By the time I had completed my disguise with a new scarf wound around my head and red lipstick, which I never wore, it was time to make my way to the platform.

  Feeling like Richard Hannay in the film The Thirty-Nine Steps, I boarded the train and found an unreserved seat. Before the day was over, I would be reunited with my son.

  18

  The train journey was just under four and a half hours. For a long time, I sat staring out of the window at a world I had almost forgotten. I was still wearing my sunglasses and scarf but had removed my new coat which lay folded neatly across my lap. I didn’t dare look
around in case anyone recognised me.

  The carriage wasn’t full, but at Leeds a number of passengers joined the train and a man took the aisle seat next to me. Although we were strangers, his presence felt like a buffer between me and the guard who came around checking our tickets. I held mine up, taking care to keep my face averted. I knew my paranoia was needless. No one would be looking for me out of London. But for a long time, I couldn’t relax.

  Eventually I must have fallen asleep, lulled by the steady rhythm of the train rumbling along the track. I woke with a start, but we were only in Newcastle, with about an hour and a half left before we reached Edinburgh. The passenger beside me was asleep and snoring gently. I dozed fitfully after that, my excitement increasing along with my apprehension as we raced north. By the time the train drew into the platform I was nearly crying with anticipation. Soon I would be seeing my son for the first time in weeks.

  Before leaving the train, I pulled my new coat on over the clothes I had been wearing when I left prison that morning. It felt like a lifetime ago. No doubt the police would contact my in-laws should they discover I had broken the terms of my bail and gone missing, but there were nearly eighteen hours to go before I missed my deadline to check in at my local police station. That was more than enough time to see my son and hopefully return to London without breaking my bail conditions. There was no reason why Mark and Stella would contact the police, but even so I couldn’t afford to waste any time. Having established which train I would need to catch back to London, and with my return ticket safely stowed in my purse, I walked out of the station and took a taxi to my in-laws’ house.

  Stella gaped, and her arm jerked as though she was about to slam the door, but I stepped forward and put one foot over the threshold, so she couldn’t close it.

  ‘Julie!’ she gasped, her eyes wide and staring. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve come to see Dan.’

  ‘Go away or I’ll call the police!’ she hissed at me.

  ‘No, no, you don’t understand,’ I protested.

  She really didn’t understand. One of the conditions of my bail was that I had to remain close to my home, yet here I was, over four hundred miles away from there. By no measure could that be considered “close”.

  ‘I’ve been released,’ I lied. ‘So, you know I’m innocent. And now I want to speak to my son.’

  ‘Come back in the morning,’ she said. ‘You have to give us time to prepare him for this. You know he struggles with anything spontaneous, and this is a huge deal for him. Why on earth didn’t you phone us before coming here?’

  I shook my head. ‘It’s complicated. But I can’t come back in the morning. I have to return to London tonight.’

  ‘Tonight? Why?’ She glared suspiciously at me. ‘What’s going on, Julie? Tell me the truth.’

  I had to admit that they had only let me out on bail. ‘I’m not supposed to go too far away from my home, and I have to check in at my local police station every twenty-four hours. So, I have to get back to London tonight. That’s why I have to see Dan right now.’

  ‘Go away, Julie. Leave him alone.’

  ‘How can I? He’s my son.’

  ‘And Paul was my son.’ She spat the words at me. ‘If you don’t leave right now, I’ll call the police.’

  With an unexpected burst of vigour, she thrust my leg aside and slammed the door. I was trembling so much I could barely stand, but I managed to stagger back to the pavement. Leaning against the low wall outside my in-law’s house, I tried to think. My reason for travelling there was innocent, and I fully intended to return to London by the morning and report to my local police station within twenty-four hours, but no one was going to believe my story if I was picked up by the police so far from my home. Even now Stella might be on the phone, summoning them. I had to get away from there and make sure I caught my train back to London in time.

  Having come all this way to see my son, I considered trying to attract his attention without anyone else knowing. If I knew which room he was sleeping in, I could chuck some gravel up at his window and call to him. But he would be confused by something so unusual, and I had no idea how he might react if he discovered me outside the house. He had been staying with his grandparents for nearly three weeks. Stella was convinced I had killed Paul, and presumably Mark shared her opinion. They were decent people, but if they believed I had murdered their son, no one could blame them for turning Dan against me. After all my efforts to get there, I couldn’t risk trying to see him.

  Devastated, I walked in what I thought was the direction of the centre of town and was soon lost. I was worried that I might end up missing my train, but at last I found a main road where I managed to hail a taxi back to Edinburgh Waverley station. It was still only six o’clock when I arrived back there. So far from home, it wouldn’t have occurred to me that the police might be looking for me had it not been for Stella’s threats. As it was, I put my scarf on, kept my head down, and walked quickly. With nearly six hours before my train was due, I rushed along the street outside the station, trying to look as though I had somewhere to go.

  Passing a café, I remembered that I hadn’t eaten since my breakfast in prison, so I stopped for a pizza in a small restaurant in a side turning off Market Street. The service was fast, and I was soon finished.

  Having eaten, I felt more alert and set off again. Wandering along the street, I resisted going into a bar for a drink. I hadn’t touched alcohol since my arrest, and although I was tempted, it was better to keep a clear head, given the risk I was running by having come to Edinburgh. There were still almost five hours to go until I was due to leave the city. Tired of waiting, I considered trying to find out whether it was possible to exchange my ticket for a seat on an earlier train. Entering the brightly lit station, I slipped on my sunglasses, and pulled my scarf more tightly around my head. As I traversed the busy walkway, I decided against trying to exchange my ticket. The fewer railway staff I spoke to, the better. Instead I bought a newspaper, made myself as comfortable as I could on a bench, and settled down to wait.

  19

  Careful to hide my face from any security cameras, I scurried to the platform and boarded my train without a hitch, and at last we were speeding on our way towards London. Although it was late, I slept less on the way back to London than I had done during the day on the way to Edinburgh. In addition to the anguish of leaving without even having seen my son, I was worried in case the train was delayed. If I missed my appointment at the police station the next morning I would return to prison, and this time I wouldn’t be allowed bail. The prospect of never seeing my son again almost paralysed me with fear. He was only seventeen. Stella and Mark were in their seventies. Dan was a capable boy, but his cerebral palsy meant he might need more support than many other teenagers as he progressed from school to college, and on into more independent living. What long-term security could his grandparents offer him? I had to extricate myself from the trouble Paul had caused me.

  The train drew into King’s Cross early the following morning. Donning my sunglasses and winding my scarf around my head, I put on my new coat and stepped out onto the platform, half expecting the police to surround me and drag me back to prison. But I left Kings Cross unchallenged, jumped into a taxi, and an hour later was back in my own house on the outskirts of Harrow. As the front door closed behind me, I burst into tears. Forcing myself to stop crying, I made a mug of tea, and went upstairs for a shower.

  Paul’s toothbrush and shaver were beside the sink in our bathroom, as though he was going to walk in at any moment. His old blue towelling dressing gown hung on the bathroom door, and his shampoo had fallen over on the shower tray, relics of a dead man. In the bedroom, his wardrobe was crammed with his shirts, his jumpers, his trousers, his smell. I couldn’t bear it. Fetching a black bin liner, I threw all his toiletries away, including the half-used toilet roll which he would have touched. Then I scrubbed the sink, and the floor, and the toilet, anything that might
still retain vestiges of his skin and sweat. I wanted every trace of him out of my life.

  At last, I jumped in the shower and tried to wash away all my memories of him. Of course, it was a futile gesture, but I needed a shower anyway and felt better for it. Taking my new scarf and coat with me in a carrier bag, I set about getting rid of them in case I had been spotted on a security camera while travelling out of London. The best way to dispose of them was to surreptitiously leave them hanging on a rail in a charity shop. It wasn’t difficult, and I was soon on my way to the police station in South Harrow, wearing my own familiar clothes. This time there was no problem using public transport without a disguise. The police could trace my movements and welcome. I was only travelling to fulfil the conditions of my bail.

  There was no one else waiting for the sergeant’s attention, so I went straight up to the desk and explained why I was there. As I signed the register, he explained the procedure. It didn’t take long, and I was soon out of there, walking along the street like anyone else, breathing fresh air, able to go wherever I chose for the next twenty-four hours. For a while at least I could pretend I was at liberty, and nothing terrible had happened to ruin my life. But that was never going to be true again.

  After stopping off at Waitrose, I went home. I had nowhere else to go. Having put away my few bits of shopping, I could no longer resist my longing to go into Dan’s room. I just wanted to feel close to him. I should never have gone in there. It was torture seeing all his things, knowing he was so far away from me. He might as well have been dead, like his father. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I reached up and touched his posters, one by one. He had stuck them up on the wall himself and I had chastised him too late for having used blue tack on the wallpaper.

  ‘What am I supposed to do?’ he had retorted, with an aggrieved expression. ‘Do you want me to take them all down again? I thought you said this was my room and I was free to do whatever I wanted in here.’