‘I had no idea,’ he says quietly.
‘I became good at hiding it. And I don’t particularly want people to know about it.’ I give him a warning look. ‘I’m only telling you because I understand how Elise Buckley may be thinking. Right now, after what he’s just done to her, I don’t suppose she can imagine a way out.’
‘We still have no idea why she’d want to kill Hollie though. Are you planning to talk to her again?’
‘Yes. I’m going to suggest she calls a domestic abuse hotline. There are several and if she seriously wants help, they’re good. But …’ I hesitate. ‘If Hollie knew something that threatened the Buckleys, I do wonder what Elise might have been capable of. Her husband’s assessment of her is fragile and unstable. I don’t think she’s either of those things.’ Watching him think, I give the DI a moment. ‘And in all this, the missing piece is still Philip Mason.’
He nods. ‘Tangled bloody web, isn’t it?’
I nod.
‘What about the connection between Hampton and Calder? Or Buckley?’
‘Maybe forensics will come up with something from Mason’s house. Shouldn’t we have a report soon?’
He nods as he stands. ‘I’ll chase them up. In fact, I’ll do that right now. I’ll let you know what they say.’
*
Before I leave the office later that afternoon, I call the practice where Andrew Buckley works, asking to speak to him. When they tell me he’s busy with patients until at least seven, I tell them I’ll call back tomorrow. But knowing he’s occupied for a couple of hours means I have a clear window to go and see Elise.
She’s sitting up when I get to the hospital this time, and even though she’s alone, she doesn’t look pleased to see me. Pulling up a chair, I sit down near the end of her bed. ‘How are you feeling today?’
‘Sore.’ Her words bear more of her usual no-nonsense manner. ‘You shouldn’t be here. If Andrew sees you, he’ll be furious.’
‘He’s with patients until seven. I checked with his practice. Is that how he was yesterday when I left here? Furious?’ When she nods, I add, ‘I know how it feels.’
Her eyes glisten as she turns away. ‘So you said.’
‘Look …’ I pause. ‘I haven’t come here on police business. I’ve come here as another woman who knows what it’s like to be physically abused.’ I watch her take in my words before asking quietly, ‘How are you?’
Shaking her head, she sighs. ‘Honestly? You have no idea. I’d found a house to move into. I paid the deposit and three months’ rent out of my savings. When he found out, he went ballistic and I ended up in here. But it’s nothing new. He constantly threatens me. He thinks he can bring me down, just like that.’
I frown. ‘What do you mean – bring you down?’
‘Oh,’ she says softly. ‘He thinks that, if he wants to, he can bring the mighty weight of the medical profession crashing down on me. He’s told me he’ll get me declared insane, an unfit mother. I’ll lose my job, my daughter …’ Her voice cracks as she says daughter.
‘It’s a bluff, Elise,’ I tell her quietly. ‘He’d never get away with it. The police know what he’s capable of. I can’t tell you much, but we’re watching him.’
‘Really?’ There’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
‘How did he find out about your moving out?’
Her eyes are troubled. ‘Niamh told him. I don’t really understand why.’
I frown. ‘I imagine she’s as frightened of him as you are. She probably thought it would be worse if he found out later.’
‘Maybe.’ Elise nods. ‘It’s terrible that she knows what he’s doing to me. I need to get both of us away. But I don’t know how.’
Her distress is obvious. Getting out my phone, I bring up the number I found earlier. ‘If I found you someone to talk to, would you call them?’
I wait for her to nod. ‘I’ll text the number to your mobile – if that’s safe?’ When she nods again, I add, ‘Why don’t you call them before you leave here? They can help.’
‘I doubt it.’ She sounds defeated.
‘Elise.’ I wait for her to look at me. ‘This, right now, is the low point. But however impossible it seems – and as I said, I know how that feels – there is a way out. For Niamh’s sake – don’t you think you have to try?’
Our conversation ends prematurely when my phone buzzes. As I walk back to my car, I have a flashback to when I reached my own rock bottom. My husband’s abuse had been daily and at that point, I had no contact with my family as he’d destroyed the remaining links I had with them. The future had seemed utterly bleak, and without hope, just as it must for Elise right now. I can remember it like it was yesterday, and I know that it wouldn’t have taken much more to push me over the edge.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Elise
I call a taxi from the hospital and hide my swollen face from gawping eyes behind dark glasses and a large scarf, as I clutch a bag of newly prescribed painkillers. It’s midday by the time I get home and the first thing I do is pour myself a large vodka, taking it upstairs with me. Back in my own bedroom, I examine my face in the large mirror in daylight. The bruising looks uglier than ever. Taking a mouthful of vodka, I start applying my heaviest makeup to hide the worst of it.
Even when it’s done, there’s a bluish pallor through the thick layer of foundation, but it’s enough for now, and there are other matters to attend to. Firstly, the rent Andrew told the estate agent that they could keep, which I need back. They’re reticent when I call them, until I remind them that it was my signature on the rental agreement and that they had no authority to act on what anyone else told them. I kick up a fuss, threatening them with legal action until eventually they refund it all and ask me not to contact them again. After calling them fascist bigots, I hang up.
Composing myself, my next call is to my airline, to whom Andrew has also spoken. Deliberately and patiently, they tell me that my doctor has suggested a referral for mental health problems and that I’ve been suspended from flying duties. Managing to keep my calm, I tell them that my doctor is my abusive husband, who has an axe to grind as I’m about to leave him, and that I’ll contact them as soon as I have a second opinion. After hanging up, I drink the rest of the vodka before hurling my glass at the wall.
There’s only one person who understands what I’m going through – DS May. My fingers hesitate on my phone as I think about calling her, but then I remember the number she sent me. It’s a lifeline I need, rather than a helpline, but I call the number anyway, the knot in my stomach tightening as I wait for someone to answer.
‘Hello?’ The warm voice on the other end of the line reminds me of the woman in the market in Marrakech, and of the stone she gave me. Kindness, again. It astonishes me how much can be conveyed in a single word.
It triggers a release, my tears erupting and flowing down my face, making it impossible to speak. Eventually they slow enough for me to mumble. ‘Please. Help me.’
*
An hour later, after the call is over, I understand the difference it makes to know that there’s someone else who understands. Drained of emotion, I’m calmer. When I get up to look in the mirror, I gently feel my face where my tears have carved their way through my makeup, exposing a lattice of bruising underneath. Upstairs, I remove the rest of my makeup, flinching as the bruising comes into full view once again. I’d wanted to protect Niamh from it, but in order for her to understand, I need her to see what Andrew’s done to me.
Then I do what the woman on the helpline number told me to do. I call the police – more specifically, DS May.
‘It’s Elise Buckley. I want to report an instance of domestic abuse.’ My voice is shaky and I can’t stop it, but it isn’t because I’m having second thoughts. I’ve never been more sure about anything.
‘OK. Have you spoken to the helpline number I gave you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. So they’ve run through what you can expect.’
My voice is a whisper. ‘If he knows I’ve spoken to you, he’ll be so angry.’
‘Elise. Try not to worry,’ DS May tries to reassure me. ‘You’ve done the right thing. We’ll be bringing him in as soon as we’ve taken a statement from you. I’m going to ask Sergeant Collins to come over right away. She’ll have someone with her. They’ll take you through what happens from here.’ She pauses. ‘It isn’t going to be easy, but this is important. You’ve taken the first step, now. Keep strong.’
Nothing can take away my fear right now, but as with the woman on the helpline, I’m aware of the kindness in her voice, kindness that all of a sudden makes it impossible to bear the pain. I manage to say, ‘Thank you,’ before hanging up and doubling over, trying to stifle my sobs.
*
While I wait for Sergeant Collins, I make a mug of tea I don’t drink, then pace around the kitchen. Eventually, her car pulls up outside and two uniformed figures make their way towards the door.
Without waiting for a knock, I open it. If Sergeant Collins is shocked by my appearance, she doesn’t show it. ‘Mrs Buckley? May we come in?’
‘Of course. Please.’ Leaving the door open, I hear one of them close it as I go into the kitchen. When I turn around to look at them, I lose my voice as the reality of what I’m about to do hits me full on.
Sergeant Collins nods towards the man with her. ‘This is Constable Emerson.’ Vaguely recognising him, I nod, and she goes on. ‘Would you mind if we make us all a pot of tea?’
Realising she’s trying to inject normalcy into a situation that’s anything but, I start towards the sink. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘If you show him where the teabags are, Emerson will do it.’ She hesitates. ‘Let’s sit down.’
Nodding, I follow her to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair. She sits opposite me, waiting a moment before she says, ‘I understand your husband has assaulted you.’
Years of habit kick in as I bite back the excuses I want to make. I fell down the stairs. We had a row and he lost his temper. It was just one of those things. But thinking of Niamh, I know I can’t do that anymore. ‘Yes.’
‘When did this assault take place?’ Her voice is gentle, but there’s steeliness behind it.
My body is rigid as I sit there. ‘Three days ago. I came back from hospital today.’
‘Apart from the obvious bruises on your face, did he hurt you anywhere else?’
‘He punched me in the stomach.’ The words sound light, belying the force he hit me with.
As Emerson joins us, carrying mugs of tea, Collins puts down her pen, her face sympathetic as she looks at me. ‘I hate to ask you this, but we need you to tell us what happened, including what was said leading up to his assault or what may have caused it.’
Knowing this was coming, I nod. ‘I had found a cottage for Niamh and me to move to.’ Seeing Sergeant Collins lift her hand slightly towards her pen, I pause.
‘Niamh is your daughter, isn’t she? How old is she?’
‘She’s fourteen. Andrew’s behaviour has become worse lately.’ I sigh, knowing I need to tell them everything, wondering how far back I should go.
‘It’s OK. We’re not in a hurry. Take your time.’
But I shake my head, because there is a hurry. What if Andrew comes back? ‘It’s complicated.’ My voice is unsteady, my thoughts all over the place as I look at them both. ‘You already know, of course, that my husband was having an affair with Stephanie Hampton. Before her, he had other affairs. Anyway, since she died, he’s been at home much more and his behaviour’s been getting increasingly aggressive. He uses foul language and thinks nothing of letting Niamh see the full force of his temper. She’s frightened of him.’ My voice cracks slightly, and my hands are shaking as I take a sip of my tea. ‘I knew things couldn’t go on as they were so I found a cottage for me and Niamh, and paid three months’ rent up front. When Niamh got home from school, I told her. I thought she’d be pleased.’ I still don’t fully understand why she reacted the way she did. ‘But she ran upstairs and I found her sobbing on her bed. Then she told me she didn’t want to go.’
Sergeant Collins is frowning. ‘Did she say why?’
I shake my head. ‘I know she’s frightened of him. I don’t know if there are other reasons for her reaction though. Then, when Andrew came in from work, she told him. I was upstairs …’ The same despair I’d felt when I realised what was happening comes back. ‘He said he’d told Niamh that he was going to have a chat with me about my “naïve little plan”, as he put it. I told him he couldn’t force me to do anything, but he said he’d do whatever he liked. He wanted me to stop dreaming up ludicrous ideas because he wouldn’t let me leave. In fact, he said he’d do anything to stop me.’ I pause. ‘I think it was at that point I knew I was in danger. But I’d gone so far, I couldn’t back down and let him believe he’d won – again. I reminded him about his affairs. Said that we didn’t love each other so there was no point continuing this charade.’
‘What did he say to that?’
I shrug. ‘He didn’t contradict me. But you understand, don’t you, that none of this is about love. It’s about Andrew’s need for control. When I didn’t say what he wanted me to say, he started to hit me.’
‘I know it’s hard …’ Sergeant Collins’s eyes don’t leave my face. ‘But we need an account of his assault. Where did it happen?’
‘In here. Over there …’ I point towards the worktop beside the oven. ‘He grabbed my arm and slapped me across the face. Then he pushed me into the corner and slapped me again. I think he must have punched me here.’ I point to the swelling below my left eye. ‘I remember his hands around my throat. I felt a blow to my stomach. After that, all I remember is arriving in hospital. Andrew was with me. He told the nurses that I’d had too much to drink and fallen down the stairs. He also told them he had concerns about my mental state – that he had for some time.’ I shake my head, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice. ‘While I was in hospital, he called the estate agent I’d used to rent the cottage. He told them I wouldn’t be taking it and that they could keep the rent I’d paid in advance. Told them to keep my money … Then he called the airline I work for and told them what he’d told the hospital staff. I’m suspended from flying duties. Basically, my employers now think I’m mentally unstable.’
‘He’s assaulted you before?’
I nod. ‘A number of times. If you’re looking for a pattern, I think it’s to do with when he’s under pressure of some kind. But there’s an underlying current of emotional abuse that never stops.’
‘Have you ever told anyone about what he does to you?’
This is the hardest part to explain. ‘Until now, no. You see, Andrew holds the winning hand. He’s always said he can prove that I’m unreliable and unstable. He can bring me down.’ I stare at Sergeant Collins.
‘Isn’t that exactly what he’s doing now?’ Her voice is insistent. ‘With the estate agent and your employer? How much worse can it get?’
Swallowing, I remember what he said in the hospital. ‘He came to see me …’ My voice is husky. ‘In the hospital. He threatened me again. He said he’d see to it that I’d never walk again …’
A look of shock crosses Sergeant Collins’s face, as I go on. ‘You don’t know my husband. If you spoke to him about what’s happened, he’d convince you that my injuries are self-inflicted. That I make his life a misery, that I’m damaging Niamh. He’ll even tell you …’ I break off.
‘What were you about to say?’ Sergeant Collins looks at me.
I sigh shakily. ‘He’ll tell you it was my fault our son died.’ A tear rolls down my cheek. ‘And the trouble is … in many ways, he’s right.’
Chapter Forty
Jo
‘There’s no question her husband abuses her,’ Sarah Collins tells me. ‘He’s completely undermined her in every respect. He’s also threatened her if she tries to leave him again. And it’s all made much wors
e because he’s a GP and everyone who knows him thinks he’s God.’
‘Not around here, they don’t.’ Getting up, I walk over to the window, shaking my head. Abuse cases are always complicated. ‘We’re bringing him in – he should be here shortly.’
‘Good. We’ve given Elise the name of a bed and breakfast a few miles from here. She’s packing a few things while she waits for Niamh to get back from school.’
‘Is anyone with her?’
Sarah shakes her head. ‘With us picking up Buckley, there didn’t seem any point.’
I nod. ‘Fair enough. He isn’t likely to be leaving here any time soon. As well as arresting him on suspicion of abuse, he’s potentially a suspect in Hollie’s murder.’
Sarah stares at me. ‘You couldn’t make it up. And all in such a small village.’ Her phone buzzes. ‘Collins.’ Holding her hand over the mouthpiece, she mouths Elise Buckley at me. Then she frowns. ‘Look, just stay put. We’re on our way.’
Ending the call, she’s already walking towards the door. ‘We need to get over there. It seems Andrew Buckley must have left the surgery before we got there. He obviously got wind we were on our way and came home early. Elise sounds terrified.’
Instantly on my feet, I pull on my jacket as we walk. ‘I’ll drive. Call Emerson and get him to join us. Tell him to bring someone with him.’ Outside, I break into a run. If Andrew knows Elise has talked to us, she’s in more danger than ever before.
*
I drive as fast as I dare, while Sarah goes on talking. ‘Elise did warn us that he’ll be utterly convincing about how unstable she is. She said he’ll tell us she has mental health problems and that she was drunk when she fell down the stairs. He’ll make it sound like it’s completely her fault that it happened. She also said that he’ll tell us it was her fault their son died.’
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