by Anne Bone
‘Michael was in a total fury, he seemed settled in the cottage and this time we had to leave for other reasons. He swore and swore when he threw things into the car. He blamed me, it was my fault; if I hadn’t demanded to have the children he would be free. The drive to Carlisle was pretty scary. We left the car at the station and took the first train to London.’
She stopped speaking and looked around before she seemed to recall where she was. Des had not needed to ask any questions as it was as if she was vomiting out words. She sat for a moment then suddenly again seemed to realise the monumental mess she had got herself into, and the colour drained completely from her face.
Des thought she looked as though she might just keel over. ‘Would you like a break?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘No. I want to go on. I have to tell it how it was. But could I have some water please?’
The Spanish police officer rose from her seat and went to the door where she shouted out to a colleague in Spanish. A couple of minutes later a glass and a large jug of cool water was placed on the dingy interview table. The Spanish officer poured the water into the glass and handed it to this woman. She could not help wanting her to continue with this fascinating story.
‘I think on that journey to London it began to really dawn on me how, wherever we went, we would never be free to live life without looking over our shoulders.’ She took another sip of water; her hand, they noticed, was visibly shaking as she recalled the events.
‘Michael was very agitated, I remember. He was sneering orders at me. Keep the kids quiet. Don’t ask questions. He whispered accusations in my ear; it was my entire fault. If it had not been my need to have the children this would not have been happening.’
‘The children, bless them, were so good. They seemed to always know when it was best to keep quiet. They were very watchful, and always seemed to sense when Michael was angry.’
‘When we got to London I was quite relieved, after all, it is such a big place, people were just going about their business and were not interested in a couple with two small children. We found a hotel and stayed there for a couple of nights, then Michael found a flat for us down in Brighton.’
‘He insisted that our names were changed again. This time we were known as Paul and Elizabeth Bell and the children, Christopher and Vicky. The flat in Brighton was fine; although we had to make sure that we kept an even lower profile than before.’
‘Michael then announced that he had a new game plan. We were going to leave the country. He told me that this was the only way we were going to be really safe and I felt a tremendous sense of relief. Of course this would be the best. Michael then went into action, he was very buoyant. I don’t know how he managed it, but he got a one year family visitors passport for us and then he bought the camper van.’
She took another large mouthful of water. ‘I never asked how, although he came in very pleased with himself one Saturday in January. All smiles, he told me that we were now the proud owners of a house in Spain. Apparently this was a very reasonable price as the owners had bought it as an investment, nevertheless then ran out of money. He showed me some photographs, there was one of a white house with brown wooden shutters in the windows, but it looked a bit ramshackle. The other photographs showed this lovely village with houses covered in bougainvillea. The village was in the mountains and we could soon learn the language and the children would be able to grow up in Spain. Safe from the British authorities.’
‘It was around this time that Beth launched her campaign and the story started to appear in the newspapers. I remember seeing her face stare out of the newspaper accusingly when she was quoted as saying that her children had been stolen from her. Stolen by me! That they had been taken from her against her wishes, and that her father had duped her, telling her that they had been adopted and she had only just found out that they had not been adopted. They were still her children and the police were searching again for us.’
‘They would take the children. I knew that now. That word ‘stolen’ kept ringing in my head over and over, louder and louder, just as though I had a thousand church bells inside my head.’
She paused again. ‘I remember thinking, Oh my God, what will I do?’
‘We made the preparations to leave the country. It was rather exciting, and I just kept breathing a big sigh of relief and kept out of sight as much as I could. I had to, as Beth’s campaign seemed to be growing; she was in all of the papers now. There was one journalist at The Sunday Times who seemed to be making it her mission to find the children. I realised that this was very dangerous for us.’
‘The day we caught the ferry from Dover over to Calais was such a relief, and I felt so good. Michael seemed more relaxed and less agitated. He even socialised a bit on the ferry, and as far as I was concerned seeing him happy meant that I could relax a bit as well. I was not sorry to see the white cliffs of Dover disappear. Every mile we travelled was a mile further to security. Thank God.’
She took a deep sigh before she continued. ‘Michael’s good mood did not last long. The journey down through France to Spain was quite stressful. Michael had to do all of the driving, and it was in the winter and there were some parts of the journey where we had to give up staying in the camper overnight and book into a hotel. The camper van was just too cold to sleep in. The children were just wonderful, they must be the most placid children ever born. They would sit playing with their toys in the back of the camper while we drove mile after mile.’
‘It took two weeks before we reached the village in the Sierra Nevada. I knew we would be safe when I saw how isolated the village was. No one would ever find us… or so I had thought.’
‘When we opened the door of the house, my heart sank. I think we had been sold a white elephant. There was nothing really in it. Michael had been told that it was furnished. There were the absolute basics, which included a large horsehair sofa and a couple of kitchen chairs. We took the beds out of the camper van for the children and just about managed ourselves to sleep on a rather lumpy damp mattress.’
‘It took days for the house to warm up a bit. There was a dilapidated stove which gave us heat and which I could at least cook on. Michael swore and swore as he stomped around the house cursing the man who sold it to us. So much for everything we ever needed already here, I can remember him shouting. “Nothing but a bleedin’ dump, a fuckin’ scam that’s all this is”.’ Maureen glanced at the two police officers when she had repeated these words. Her face showed that she was embarrassed at repeating Michael’s foul language, words she had never been brought up to use, and never heard before she had met Michael.
She composed herself and continued. ‘To make matters worse, there was the language barrier. I tried to learn some of the words, but Michael, he was making things even more difficult. He would go out to try and get some of the local tradesmen to do the work and come back so frustrated that he, she paused remembering, he did things.’ She swallowed several times, her mouth dry and her hands shaking as she recalled the memories of what Michael had done to her. It had made her feel degraded, dirty. Filthy. It was not right; she knew it was not right. But then again he made her do it. She suffered at his hands, there was no care, or warmth of love in the acts he inflicted on her. There was only pain, disgust and fear. Fear was the worst; she was with a man who she discovered she did not know. This was Mr Jekyll; and she had thought the Michael she had first known had been Mr Hyde.
Des watched this woman as she reached across the table to pick up the glass of water. Her hands were shaking so much that she failed to grip the glass and it tipped over spilling the water across the table. It took a fraction of a second for him to respond and reach into his pocket to grab his handkerchief to mop it up. In that fraction of a second he heard the first sob of the woman who was now clutching herself around her chest.
‘Would you like a break?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘Yes please, just a few minutes… She addressed the female officer
, ‘Could I use the toilet please?’
The Spanish officer nodded, and got to her feet to escort Maureen along the corridor to a dark dismal toilet. Once inside the cubicle, Maureen placed her head into her hands and wept. She could not help remembering the embarrassment and the absolute shame of what Michael had made her do. Now she was being punished for it. She wiped her eyes on the hard toilet paper, then stood and shook herself. She would return to the interview room and continue to spit out the story.
Des waited. He wondered what on earth was coming next. He was beginning to feel a little compassion for the woman. When she returned to the interview room he saw that she had got herself together. She sat again on the seat opposite him and smiled a watery smile as he poured her another glass of water.
Maureen nodded thanks and this time she was successful at picking up and drinking from the glass. She then took a deep breath, braced herself and continued ‘The hopes and dreams that I had that life in the village was going to be safe and secure were completely dashed. It wasn’t the authorities I now feared. It was Michael: what he was doing every night; the acts were becoming more bizarre and more violent. Wrists and ankles had bruises where I was tied. Other more intimate parts of my body were bruised and often bleeding,’ she shuddered remembering. ‘Where would it end? I was lost… lost to the world. No one knew who I was. No one knew where I was, and there was no one to even care.’ She stopped and allowed herself some silent moments of reflection. She allowed herself to remember her most terrifying thoughts and these were, what would have happened to the children if his deviance and perversion took her life?
Des witnessed the terror on her face, as she seemed to be for a moment lost in her thoughts.
‘I remember my worst fears were, Ok what would happen to the children if… if...’
She allowed herself to return to the present and continued. ‘Each day I tried so hard to keep things normal for the children. The weather was warm and sunny and at least the village and the countryside was balm for the soul. I would try and spend as much time as possible out of his sight, I would dress the children up and we would go walking and eat our picnic sitting in the meadow.’ She smiled remembering, ‘Which was filled with mountain spring flowers.’
‘The villagers were very suspicious of us. I did try and make some friendships with a couple of the other mothers, but what with the language problem and their suspicion of foreign incomers … you can probably imagine. I think that the last few weeks may have been the loneliest time in my life.’
‘On that day when I was walking up the street and I saw the two women and that man coming towards me, I was confused. I remember looking at Beth and I thought I recognised her, but told myself not to be so stupid, it could not be her. It could not, not here, I had convinced myself that they would never find us.’
‘The Spanish woman with them threw me. I was trying to understand what she was saying and then I heard Michael shouting for me. So I hurried away. He had not realised either who the people were. It was later that day when the Spanish police arrived that I knew for sure it was Beth.’
‘What was his reaction when the police called?’ Des asked, genuinely interested in how this man had reacted when even in Spain the police were on his back.
‘He denied it, of course, acted as though he was the victim. Once he showed the officers the passport, they seemed convinced and left. He was in a right rage then. I thought he might just finish me off. He ranted and raved and told me again it was my fault and we would leave early next morning. To be truthful, I couldn’t help being relieved and rather pleased. I did not know where we would go next, but wherever it was to be it could not be any worse than where we were.’
Her eyes became misty again as she reflected and seemed to try and make some sense of her thoughts. ‘I suppose I was feeling a bit as though I was in a dream. Whenever I moved or closed my eyes I could just see what he was doing to me.’
‘Can I ask, Maureen, why if it was so bad, did you not think about telling the officers the truth when they came? It would have put a stop to it, and if I am hearing you right, you were in fear of your life’.
‘Had I thought about telling the police officers the truth? Yes, I did think about it, although only for a moment. I don’t think I was really able to think and do anything about anything. One look from him and I was sort of paralysed, I know it sounds daft, but that was how it was.’
‘It all came to an end the next morning anyway. He was so sure of himself when we started to drive away, telling me that the village had bad vibes and once we got back to civilisation everything would be ok again.’ She looked up at Des sensing his next question. ‘Did I believe him? No. No. I would never believe anything he ever said ever again.’
‘When the van was stopped and those men surrounded it I knew the children would be safe. I knew then that, whatever happened, it had ended. Now here I am in a Spanish police station and, you know what, I am thankful because I deserve to be here. I must be wicked for what I have done.’
Des sat back in his chair and took some very deep breaths. He stared across the small battered table, which had a million indecipherable words scored into its surface, evidence of the countless people who had been questioned in this grimy grey room.
He did not know quite what to say to this woman. This woman, this naïve gullible woman who had also been a victim, nevertheless he remembered that she had also knowingly gone along with the deceit. Oh, he believed her, she did not know what Michael Cook was really capable of. She had suffered at his hands, but now they knew who he was, they knew of others who had suffered before her.
‘Maureen, I have to ask you whether you would be willing to voluntarily accompany me back to Aberdeen? If not, then we would need to apply for an extradition order, and that may take some time. The Spanish police here accept that you will be facing charges back in the UK and therefore you will remain in custody here until we apply for the order. What do you want to do?’
‘I want to go back please.’ She burst into a flood of tears and asked, ‘What about Michael?’
‘Oh, Michael has refused to accompany us voluntarily, therefore we will be applying for an extradition order. I don’t think he wants to come back to the UK, he thinks he might be safer here where no one knows who he is.’
She looked up, her red tearful eyes asking the question.
‘I suppose you have the right to hear it from us, but Michael Cook, as we now know him, has a very shady background. When you first met him he was indeed running from his background, although not due to the loss of his wife’s life, no, more to do with regaining his freedom. He had just come out of Winchester Prison where he had served three years for sexually assaulting a young girl. A very vicious attack if you read the case file. So you see you were nothing but prey into his hands. Since we have discovered who he is, we have made enquiries and there are a number of incidents all over Scotland that we wish to question him about. So you see Maureen, your statement will help us in our investigations.’
Des realised from the shock which was evident across the woman’s face that she had had no idea of his past. ‘Just one more question, something which has raised some questions for us. We have been wondering why we did not pick up on any of his fingerprints when we searched the properties which you and he vacated.’
She thought for a minute before she answered. ‘Michael was always very insistent that I wiped down all the surfaces before we left, and come to think about it he wore gloves a lot. He had several pairs and told me that he had suffered from a skin complaint when he was younger and he often needed to wear them. After what you have just told me it makes sense as, thinking back to when we left the country, I never did see him wearing them again.’
‘What else did I not realise?’ Her hand went to her mouth as she began to process the information. ‘Oh my God, I cannot believe how stupid I have been.’ Her head dropped down again into her folded arms, which were resting on the table. The sobbing continued silently unti
l the female officer tapped her on the shoulder and beckoned her to follow her back to the small cell.
The cell which was now very quickly becoming her refuge.
Chapter 38
There was a very subdued after dinner discussion taking place on the balcony of Vicky and Richard’s villa beneath a starlit night. Around the table sat Des, Marty, Richard and Daphne; the latter had flown into Malaga just a few hours earlier. Vicky was still ordering the servants around inside the villa.
Beth was where she had been since they had found the children, right beside them, gazing on their small sweet faces while they slept soundly in the two small beds. Beds which had been erected by their hosts, and placed beside the large oversized double bed that she and Marty were sharing.