“I was though, I was. I’m to blame!”
“Now, come on, please don’t do this to yourself. You’ve been through a terrible time. Don’t wind yourself up. Of course you weren’t to blame. I don’t know what the world’s coming to when innocent people can’t even sleep in their beds without… well… this.”
“Innocent? I’m not sure I am Dolly! I didn’t mean for any of this. I don’t know how everything has turned out this way. I didn’t think… I just tried to help and then I was afraid… but I did it, I pushed him and before that, earlier, I lied. If I hadn’t lied in the first place this wouldn’t have happened and they were such stupid lies, probably not even necessary, but I was scared.”
“Now, come on. You’re not making any sense and I think it’s best if you just sit quietly and wait for the police. I’ll make some more tea and how about a piece of toast? Could you eat a piece of toast?”
At the thought of food Pauline’s stomach churned and she shook her head and gulped back the bile in her throat. “A cup of tea would be nice.”
All she had tried to do was protect herself. Right from the start the lies had been only to hide from George. The accident and all the horror that had come from her one kind action was still an unexplained nightmare. There had been no diamonds, no bag, no memory stick. She closed her eyes and concentrated on remembering the man when she had first found him, unconscious, his legs in the ditch. She remember the fear and panic. She had gone through his pockets looking for a phone but there had been nothing. She had only looked in his jeans anyway. Perhaps the things that he had lost were in his leather jacket? If that was the case though then where were they now? If the hospital had kept her jacket and handed it to him with its traitorous note inside then surely they would have returned his jacket to him as well?
So, someone else had removed the bag then. Surely not the rescue services, nurses, doctors; they were people to trust weren’t they, not thieves and pickpockets. No, there must be another explanation. Perhaps the bag had fallen into the road and been swept away? It may be lying in the ditch even now. But would he not have gone there? Surely he had looked? Now it was too late to ask him, even as the salt and grit dried in her hair the regret and self doubt crept into her mind. She had handled this all wrong, hadn’t she; everything she had touched had been tainted by her own desire for safety. Could she not have talked to him, logically and calmly? The horror was retreating now in the warmth of Dolly’s home and so Pauline began to second guess her actions and her shocked and confused mind filled with what ifs.
As thoughts chased puzzles through her head she rubbed her hands together and the chaffing on her wrists spoke plainly of the truth. He hadn’t wanted conversation and explanation; he was convinced that she had his property and his anger had been driven partly by fear. She had seen it in his eyes when he had screamed at her. The fog of confusion closed her lids and exhaustion lulled her to sleep before she realised that she had drifted away…
“Pauline, Pauline, come on my dear, wake up. The police are here. I’ve made some tea.”
With a groan she came back to the world, pushed up from the slouch and turned to the doorway. A young woman in a dark suit and a tall uniformed police officer waited. “Have they found him? Have they got the body?”
The pair moved into the room and perched on the edges of homely old chairs. The woman leaned forward. “Pauline, may I call you Pauline? I’m Detective Ryan. I have to ask you some questions and see if we can sort out what’s been going on here. Do you feel well enough? You look pretty beaten up; have you had a doctor look at you?”
“No, no I don’t want that, I’m alright really. I just want to have a bath and get clean. Have they found him? Have they got him out of the water?”
“They’re searching now.”
“But, he’s there, just in the water at the bottom of the cliffs. I can take you.” As she spoke the words she prayed that they wouldn’t ask her to follow through on the offer. She didn’t believe she would be able to trudge back across the sands and make the climb and she didn’t want to see him again rolling in the waves, bumping against the rocks.
“We have a team looking now, the lifeboat is there and the coastguard, but I have to tell you that up to now there is no body. We haven’t found anything. Are you quite sure that was where he fell?”
Chapter 28
Pauline felt that she was teetering on the edge of insanity. There was now even more hell heaped on the torment she had already suffered. The side room at the hospital was bland and not quite clean. The medical team were calm and professional but without any warmth. Though the people searching had still not found a body the possibility of murder or misadventure had meant that she must be “processed.” It was an awful concept and a dreadful ordeal.
While she was examined, poked, prodded, scraped and questioned, her clothes were taken away and put in bags. At first they offered her a paper suit to wear in place of the hospital gown, but in the end Dolly was allowed to wait by the front door of the cottage until one of the forensic people brought her some of her clothes from the wardrobe and drawers at her cottage. It seemed that they didn’t quite know how to treat her. She was so very obviously a victim and yet with no real evidence and only her confused account of events they didn’t know whether she was a murderer or not. They were polite, kind and sympathetic to her wounds, but in the back of their eyes she could see suspicion.
However it was clear to everyone that she was on the verge of total exhaustion. And so with the strong urging of the doctor and because she was now almost incapable of forming meaningful answers to any questions they took her back to the farm. They had wanted her to stay in the hospital and she had begged to be allowed to leave. In the event they had no real means to make her stay. They had of course wanted her home address and because she didn’t have the strength for anything else, she had given them the details of the house in The Dales. Trying to explain that she didn’t live there anymore brought more tears and so they gave up on the questioning and sent her away, “For now,” they said, and the words chilled her.
She asked to go to the cottage but they were adamant. It wasn’t possible; the little house was now a crime scene, tape covered the doors and it would be sealed while they combed the rooms for evidence of the intruder. What would they look for? There was nothing to find; just her clothes, a couple of books. She had so little; would that in itself cause them to be suspicious? She didn’t know.
It was only the feel of Dolly’s kind arms around her and her gentle voice urging her to be calm and promising a bed at the farm house that stopped her from falling apart completely. Then after it all; the hospital, the questions, the empty silences filled with puzzlement and disbelief, there was a drive home in the back of a police car with a silent driver and Dolly uncomfortable and embarrassed beside her.
At last she clambered between sweet smelling sheets in one of the neat little bed and breakfast rooms. A drug induced sleep carried her away, and while boats and police teams scoured the cliffs and beaches she slept, with Dolly creeping up the stairs at regular intervals to listen at the door and shake her head in confusion…
The house was quiet and calm. Pauline didn’t want to open her eyes. If she could just stay where she was in the warm, dark place, maybe it would all go away.
Of course it didn’t and in the end she knew it was time to drag herself back into the mess that had displaced her life.
She stretched her legs. The pain was similar to that after strenuous exercise; not too bad, bearable. She pushed herself up against the pillows and carefully swung round. She felt better than she had expected.
Her clothes were thrown on a chair and she vaguely remembered Dolly helping her to undress and pull on the T shirt that she had on. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt coated, the effect of the drugs she supposed. With the stiff movements and sighing groans of an old woman she rose to her feet and straightened her creaking back. A dresser stood against the wall; a mirror in a frame stand
ing on the polished top.
She hadn’t seen her face. Dolly told her it was bruised and battered but nothing could have prepared her for the wreckage that greeted her startled gaze. The skin around both eyes was blackened and swollen and her cheeks were multi-coloured with bruises. She had felt the swelling in her lips but hadn’t been prepared for the sight of them; liver coloured with bruising and streaked with red where the skin had burst.
Though she knew it was all temporary – the doctor had assured her that most of it was superficial and would all heal – it was worse than any ruin George had caused. But of course he had been careful to hide his handiwork: he had expected her to live.
The tiny creak of the door had Dolly out of the kitchen and half way up the narrow staircase barely before Pauline had moved across the landing.
“How are you feeling? Take it carefully; here let me help you.”
“Thanks. Actually it’s not too bad.”
“You’ve been crying again haven’t you?”
“I saw my face. It’s silly I know but…” She shrugged her shoulders.
“It’ll mend my dear. You’ll be surprised. It won’t take long.”
“Oh I know. It’s not that important really, not just now. Is there news Dolly, have they found him?”
“I haven’t heard anything. Nobody has been, but we are supposed to give them a call once you are up and about. There is just one constable now at the cottage; all the cars have gone. I don’t know about the beach. Jim has gone out to see what’s happening. He’ll be back soon.
“Come on down and have some soup. You’ll feel better with some food in your tummy.”
“Oh, you are kind. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. Thank you. And Dolly, I didn’t mean to kill him. Well, I don’t know what I meant; I just had to get away. You do believe me don’t you?” The moment of hesitation was brief but it was enough, no-one really knew what to think, not even this kind new friend.
It was time for truth. It was time to bring everything out into the light. “Can you call them for me, the police? I need to tell them everything that’s happened. Before I do though Dolly, I want to apologise to you. I haven’t been completely honest, I am sorry but maybe when I explain you’ll understand.”
Pauline had made her way slowly down the steps and now Dolly reached a hand and gently squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever you’ve done, or said I’m sure you had your reasons. I think I’m a pretty good judge when it comes to people and I know you’re not a bad person Pauline. Come on, let’s get on with it. You’ll feel better when it’s over.”
When it’s over. It would never be over. She would remember his screams forever. “Bitch! Bitch!” And the look in his eyes as he had scrabbled in the rocks for handholds and felt the cliff edge give beneath his panicked feet. No, some things were never over.
Chapter 29
She had expected it to be hard. Pauline told herself that after all she had been through the police with their questions would be difficult to face, but she would get through it. In the event it was far harder than she had imagined.
They still didn’t know what to think of her. They had offered to bring a solicitor. The idea chilled her and she refused. Because she was still in pain from her injuries they had come to the farm instead of taking her to the police station. Their puzzlement had led them to be more gentle with her than she had expected but the kindness didn’t lessen the guilt and the fear she felt.
It was calm and quiet in the lounge. A constable stood near the door. The hush was broken only with the sound of rain in the trees and splashing against the windows and the occasional whoosh as a car passed on the wet road outside. Detective Ryan pursed her lips and shook her head, just a quick flick. She raised her eyes to meet the troubled gaze of the beaten, sad looking woman perched on the edge of the old settee.
“We haven’t found a body. Teams have been out searching all yesterday and again this morning but there is no sign. So, either he wasn’t dead and left under his own steam...” As Pauline opened her mouth to speak the policewoman raised a hand. “Or, there was no body, and that presents a puzzle of its own.”
“He must have washed away. The tide took him.”
“No, it’s unlikely. We have had an expert from the coastguard consulting and – taking into account the time of year – when you say you last saw the body and the state of the tide it would be almost impossible for it to wash out to sea. You say it was caught in the rocks for one thing.”
“Yes, yes it was. I called down to him, the water was turning him and moving him, but he was caught amongst the rocks. Yes.”
“Exactly. And at this time of the year that is the high tide level so it would take a freak wave, or some other unlikely event to move him.”
“Well, it could happen, couldn’t it?”
“Yes, it could. But then the formation of the coast there means the body would wash to the other side of the bay and not out into open water.
“The thing is Pauline, if there is no body, there is no reason for you to have called us. But there are your injuries which are obvious. Do you understand my dilemma? If what you are telling me is not true then it gives us a whole other set of problems. We have been trying to contact your husband on the number you gave us but haven’t been able to get an answer. There is nobody at the address. Would you expect him to be there? Have you spoken to him yourself?”
So there he was again; George. She was beginning to see, no matter how far she ran, no matter what horror she endured he would be there. She drew in a deep breath.
“I left him. I think I told you.”
“Yes, I remember and we need to speak to him, to confirm that. We need you to clarify what exactly had happened because it is a rat’s nest at the moment.”
“I lied you see. I lied to the police.”
“Ah. So are you telling me now there was no body, no attack?”
“No, no you don’t understand. I didn’t lie to you. This isn’t a lie. I lied before, to the police in Yorkshire.”
“What police in Yorkshire?”
“I left home, well, left George, but he didn’t know, he was away. That's why I chose to go just then. I had planned it all and I was coming here to hide. I’ve bought a house in France. That’s where I’m going; the day after tomorrow it should be.”
“Well, I have to tell you that at the moment it would be better if you don’t plan on going anywhere out of the country. Not until this is all sorted out.”
She hadn’t understood. The uproar had been so loud in her life that she hadn’t appreciated how her plans may be spoiled and her very future put in jeopardy. The realization was a physical blow. Drawing breath into her lungs, hanging on to a semblance of sanity, just holding on was all she could manage. Her hands were clasped in her lap, the knuckles white with tension and thoughts jittered and spun in her brain when she closed her eyes. Was there a way through this? If there was she couldn’t find it, not right now, maybe not ever.
Her voice was swamped with tears as she forced out the next words. “Am I going to go to prison?”
Anne Ryan spoke quietly, slowly. “It’s too early to say what is going to happen, Pauline. Right now all I have is confusion. Look, I need to ask you this and I know it might be tricky but you have to be honest with me. Have you ever had trouble with your nerves? Have you ever seen a psychiatrist Pauline? Do you think this could be… well, do you think it might not have happened the way you think?”
They thought she was mad. As the spectre of mental illness was raised yet another path in the maze was opened.
Chapter 30
“Look, I think the only thing I can do here is to go back to the beginning. Well not quite... oh hell. Yes, the beginning.” Pauline squared her shoulders. She drew in a breath and lowered her head. When she lifted her face again she looked across at Detective Ryan. Her gaze steady but her eyes flat, helpless.
“My husband beat me, he beat me often and I didn’t tell anyone because I was ashamed
and frightened. I stopped seeing my friends and I made a life that worked for me. In between the hell with George I had a life that I could live. I did my garden, I looked after the house and I spent hours and hours alone, walking in the hills. It was small and empty. All I had was the cat and my flowers.” The tears had begun to flow as she had known they would but she swiped them away with a tissue and carried on.
“I put up with it for twenty years and then I had the chance to get away. I left, I didn’t tell him I was going I just left.”
Detective Ryan had tried to maintain an aura of cool detachment but the distress coming from the other woman in waves was making her uncomfortable. “Is it relevant to what has happened here Pauline? Are you telling me that the dead man was your husband?”
“Will you just listen? Can you do that; just listen and I’ll tell you? There was an accident on the road and I tried to help. I called the police, I held his hand, I sat in a sodding ditch and held his hand.
“I looked in his pocket for a phone, just for his phone.”
“So, why did you lie, what was the lie?”
“I was afraid that if I gave my name and address that somehow it would get back to George and he would be able to find me. I was upset, I was scared and so I made up a phone number and I gave a false address. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”
The police constable had stepped further into the room and the atmosphere was charged with emotion. Things were getting out of hand. Anne Ryan gathered her bag and folio together. “You’re distressed Pauline, this won’t work. You need a solicitor, you need to calm down and come to the police station. I’ll arrange it.”
“No.” Pauline shot from her seat and took the few paces to the door. She stood with her back to the old wood, her hands braced behind her. “No, listen to me. Let me tell you. You have to listen to me now.”
The young officer and the detective shot a glance across the small space. Ryan held out a hand. “Alright, but try to keep calm. Come on back. Come and sit down, please just sit down.” They waited until Pauline was perched, tense and watchful on the edge of the seat.
Leaving George Page 9