CHAPTER THIRTY
Driving home the following morning, Gayle at the wheel, I could see a bunch of people milling around the gates to my house.
‘What the...’ I began.
‘They’re reporters, Mum,’ Julia’s voice came from the back seat. ‘They’ve been hanging around since you got back. I didn’t tell you - I didn’t want to worry you.’
I was dismayed. As Gayle slowed to turn into the drive, they surrounded the car, waving and shouting, banging on the window.
‘Fucking reporters.’ she muttered, driving slowly on. ‘Excuse my French.’
‘How the hell did they know I’d be coming home today?’ Like sheep, they followed the car up the drive and as I tried to open the car door, they jostled to get near me, thrusting microphones under my nose, yelling questions. Like a pack of wolves I thought.
‘How does it feel to be back home, Carol?’
‘Are you ever going back to Barbados?’
‘Who do you think attacked you?’
‘Stay in the car. Close the door.’ instructed Gayle. She got out, pushing bodies out of her way and used all her authority to round up the mob and order them back outside the gates. She promised to go back out and speak to them as soon as I was safely inside.
‘Bloody animals,’ she muttered, opening my door and ushering me in through the front door. ‘Not my favourite people.’
I found Fiona and Pauline waiting for me inside; they fussed around as I sank on to a settee, shaking. Gayle went back outside to deal with the pack. Fiona went into the kitchen to make some coffee. Pauline hugged me like she would never let me go.
‘It’s so good to have you back home. We’ve all been so worried about you,’ she said, indicating a pile of get well cards stacked on a side table. ‘I was all set to come out to Barbados when I heard what had happened. I was trying to arrange a relief sub-postmaster to cover for me. But then Fiona told me you were out of the woods and making a good recovery. I’ve never been so relieved in all my life.’ She hugged me again. ‘I couldn’t bear to lose my best friend.’
Just then, the front door slammed and Gayle came striding into the sitting room. ‘I’ve made it perfectly clear that you won’t be speaking to them. They’re well aware they can’t name you. I’ve given them a brief statement, so they’ve got something to print tomorrow and that’s all they’re getting for now. They’re not allowed to come on to your property, so if they bother you after I’ve left, I want you to call me straight away. Ok?’ I nodded and she went on. ‘Purely as a precaution, and partly because of all the media attention, we’re going to install some basic security equipment in the house. It’s standard procedure, when a victim is in the spotlight, as you are. It should only be for a few days. I’m going to leave you now, give you a chance to settle in, but I’ll be back later today with the technicians.’
True to her word, that afternoon, Gayle returned with two technicians who set to work installing panic alarms and setting up a direct line to the police station.
‘If you’re worried about anything at all, just activate the panic alarm and someone will be here within a few minutes. You’ve got my mobile number, too. Please don’t hesitate to ring me if you have any questions, or are worried about anything.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Julia came tentatively into my bedroom the next morning, carrying an armful of newspapers.
‘Mum, are you sure you want to see these?’ she asked, dropping the pile onto the bed. I had insisted that she get all the papers, much against her better judgement.
‘You can’t protect me from them, sweetheart. I need to see them.’
The headlines read Attack Victim returns from Barbados, Woman Returns to NE after Barbados Attack and in the less salubrious papers Back in the UK Attractive Widow Assaulted and Left for Dead in Island Paradise.
I groaned when I read them. ‘Bloody hell. I hate the way reporters try to milk the most emotional impact out of every situation. I hate being the focus of their attention.’
‘At least they can’t name you, Mum. No-one knows it’s you they’re talking about.’ Julia tried to sound upbeat.
HE knows, though. I thought. HE knows I’m back home now. A terrifying thought.
Later, Gayle called in on her promised daily visit. This time she brought someone with her.
‘Carol, this is Linda Wright of Victim Support. We always liaise with them in cases of violent crime. They offer a lot of help to victims and their families.’ Gayle said, by way of explanation.
‘Hello Carol,’ Linda held out her hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Her handshake was firm, her gaze direct and friendly.
I studied her as we shook hands. She looked to be in her late forties. Small and round, she had an open face, with an upturned mouth, rosy cheeks and wide blue eyes. I instinctively knew we’d get on well.
‘I’m a trained counsellor with Victim Support,’ she told me. ‘We’re not part of the police, but we do work closely with them. We’re an independent charity, set up to help victims of violent crime. My role is to give you emotional and practical support. In other words, I’m here for you, whatever.’
‘What kind of support?’ I asked, intrigued, warming to her.
‘Well, on the practical side, I can take you for all your hospital and other appointments. I can also help to keep any persistent reporters at bay. However, my most important role is to act as a sounding board for you and to be there for you, day or night. You need to know I’ll always be on your side, Carol, no matter what.’ She spoke in a soft Scottish brogue.
‘That’s good to know.’ I meant it. It was a comforting thought.
‘There’s no further news from Barbados for now,’ Gayle said, getting to her feet. ‘I’ll leave you and Linda to get acquainted. See you tomorrow.’
As I’d suspected, I found Linda a warm, empathetic person, a pre-requisite in her role, I supposed. I learned, in time, that she’d been raped at knifepoint, as a teenager, and it was that experience that ultimately led to her training as a counsellor and joining Victim Support.
We talked through what had happened to me.
‘Feelings of shame and thinking that somehow you’re to blame, are quite natural after what’s happened to you, Carol, but I’m here to make sure you know that no fault whatsoever lies with you.’ she told me.
‘I don’t know what I feel, Linda. I’m so full of mixed emotions. I’m horrified when I think of what happened, but I almost feel that it happened to someone else, not me. If that makes sense? Even though I was so badly hurt, it doesn’t seem quite real. My Counsellor thinks I may be in some kind of shock. The psychiatrist suggested that because I’ve no memory of what took place, my mind hasn’t yet fully registered the horror.’
‘Well, if it does in the future, we’ll face it together then.’ Her tone was emphatic.
‘I hoped the Barbados police had the attacker in custody, but they haven’t – he’s been ruled out. It’s really scary, knowing that he’s still out there. And all this publicity,’ I indicated all the papers now lying on the coffee table, ‘means he knows I’m now back home. I’m scared, Linda.’
‘Well, you’re not facing this alone, dear. We’re all here for you. In all likelihood, the person responsible is in Barbados and won’t even see these newspapers, so try not to get too worked up about them.’
‘Linda, would you have a word with Julia? She won’t listen to me. Before I was attacked, she’d planned to spend a few days in Leeds with her friends and her boyfriend before Christmas, then come out to Barbados on the twenty-second. Now, she thinks she needs to stay with me. But she doesn’t. She’s put enough of her life on hold. I want her to go and enjoy herself. I’ve got plenty of support. Fiona’s here most of the time, and Pauline comes most evenings after work. Then there’s you and Gayle. I want Julia to be with her friends, having fun, a normal student life. She should go, and come back in time for Christmas. There’s no point in her hanging ar
ound here. I’m fine now, but she won’t listen to me.’
‘Och, I’d be delighted to. You just leave her to me. I’ll soon sort Julia out.’ I smiled to myself at Linda’s self-confidence. She seemed the sort who wouldn’t let anything beat her and I felt safer when she was around.
I suspect it was with some relief that Julia made arrangements to return to Leeds, after Linda had spoken with her. I don’t know what Linda said, but thankfully, it worked. I heard Julia on the phone to Oliver, excitedly making plans. The following day, before she left, she made me promise I would call her if I needed her. Both Linda and Gayle assured her they were available at any time, and she mustn’t hesitate to call one or both of them if she needed to talk.
The relief I felt after Julia left, surprised me. I hadn’t realised what a strain it had been, trying to be cheerful all the time in front of her. Now, I felt free to give in to my feelings, if I needed to. It was a cold, miserable day, when she left, and afterwards, when I was alone, I sat down at the bottom of the stairs and just howled. That’s how Linda found me.
‘It’s good to be able to let go, when you need to, Carol,’ Linda told me. ‘Get it all out.’
Later, after the storm of emotion was over, I did feel calmer, but a bit embarrassed that Linda had witnessed it.
‘That’s what I’m here for. You’re bound to have bouts like that. You’ve been through a hell of an ordeal and your emotions will be all over the place. But, you’re a strong person – look how you got over your breakdown after losing Peter. You’ll get through this, too.’
We walked through to the kitchen and I made some coffee. ‘I feel so guilty about Peter. I think about it all the time, Linda.’ She gave me an enquiring look and I told her about my hangover and not even saying goodbye or wishing him luck when he left. I started to cry again.
‘Now you listen to me, Carol Barrington,’ she said in the sternest voice I’d ever heard her use. ‘Everyone feels guilty about something when someone close to them dies. So you had fun with your friends and had too much to drink? So what? He knows you loved him. A hangover is hardly the crime of the century. You said he kissed you on the head before he left? – that’s what you should be remembering, not torturing yourself with feelings of guilt. It’s not your fault that he died. You should remember all the good times with him. From what Fiona’s told me, you brought him immense happiness after years of being in a miserable relationship – so think about that, instead of finding things to feel guilty about.’
Her words helped tremendously and in the weeks to come would prove a turning point in how I thought about Peter – instead of letting the guilt override all the good memories, I realised I had the power to put it to one side, where it belonged, and concentrate on the good things.
‘I really must lose some weight,’ commented, Linda, helping herself to a ginger snap and dunking it in her coffee. ‘These don’t count,’ she said when she saw me looking. ‘They’re only about sixty calories,’ she laughed.
‘He was meeting his mate, Charlie, Pauline’s husband, that morning and the two of them were driving to the Lake District to meet up with the rest of their hiking club mates. They were doing a fund-raising challenge for charity; climbing Helvellyn.
The police came to the door early that evening. They told me Peter had fallen on the descent. They said a Mountain Rescue helicopter had been scrambled, but paramedics had declared him dead at the scene.’
Another deep breath, and I continued, ‘I wouldn’t believe it at first. I kept telling them they’d made a mistake, but of course they hadn’t. It turned out the accident happened at a place called The Chimney. Charlie told me it’s a well-known, tricky descent. The Patterdale Mountain Rescue team, recovered his body and took him to their headquarters overnight. Ready for transfer to the morgue at Carlisle, the next morning.’
‘Did you have to go over there?’ asked Linda, reaching for another biscuit.
‘Yes. I had to identify his body. I needed to. I couldn’t really believe he was dead until I’d seen for myself. Pauline drove me to Patterdale early the next morning. I remember it was still dark and freezing cold when we set off. All the way there, a voice in my head kept telling me there could have been a mistake and it might not turn out to be Peter after all.’
‘I can understand that – clinging on to hope.’
‘The journey was surreal. I remember dawn broke just as we reached Alston. After that, the view was breathtaking. Going down the hairpin bends, I could see the hills, all glowing pink, and I remember thinking, How can there be so much beauty around when Peter’s not here to see it? How can things go on as normal? When we got near Patterdale, I suddenly saw Helvellyn ahead. It was like being physically punched, to see the mountain where he died.’
‘That must have been awful,’ Linda sympathised.
I nodded. ‘When I saw the Mountain Rescue Centre, it looked so innocuous. Just a low building, nestling against the trees. Bathed in sunshine. I thought, My Peter’s body’s lying in there. I didn’t want to go in. I didn’t want my last hope taken away from me. A policeman took me into a small, bare room. I remember white walls and a patterned lino floor. Peter’s body was lying on a narrow bed, covered with a white sheet. I couldn’t bring myself to go near the bed, at first. I felt light-headed. Thought I was going to pass out. The policeman was kind. Told me to take my time, there was no hurry. Eventually, I went to the bed, and the policemen pulled the sheet back, and I looked at Peter.’ I stopped.
‘Go on, Carol,’ said Linda quietly, putting her hand over mine.
‘I’d been warned his face was badly damaged. But I still got a shock. It was such a mess. He looked nothing like the gorgeous man who’d left only the day before.’ She squeezed my hand.
‘It was heart-breaking, Linda. He was so cold. I wanted to climb on the bed. Wrap myself round him. Warm him up. I told him over and over how sorry I was for not saying goodbye and how much I loved him. I could hardly bear to leave him there, alone. Eventually, I tucked the sheet more closely around his neck and kissed him one last time. When I left him there, I felt that my own life was over, too.’
‘So sad, Carol. Here,’ she said, handing me a tissue, wiping her own eyes at the same time.
‘Charlie told us none of the team was with him when he fell; they’d all gone ahead. He was the last man and it wasn’t until he didn’t turn up at the rendezvous point that they realised something was wrong. By then it was too late.’ I sniffed and wiped my eyes again.
‘After the funeral, I was in a really bad way. Fiona stayed with me for a few months. She was a gem. Julia took time off Uni. Pauline was here, when she wasn’t working - Charlie’s away most of the time, working in Thailand, so she often stays here overnight. All my other girlfriends tried to help, calling in to see me, but very often I just sent them away. I didn’t want to talk to people.
I was so depressed I couldn’t get out of bed in the mornings. I just wanted to die and be with Peter. I would lie in bed, breathing in the scent of him from his clothes and his pillow. I honestly think, if I hadn’t had Julia to live for, I would have ended my life then. I just couldn’t see any point in going on. I started drinking heavily. Several bottles of wine a day. And vodka. I was completely out of control. I can see now that I really put Julia and Fiona through hell. Pauline too... But I just couldn’t help myself.’ Linda nodded, encouraging me to go on.
‘Looking back, I’m so ashamed of how weak I was. After all, people lose loved ones all the time, but they don’t all give in to despair, like I did. But, I really couldn’t help it. I had absolutely no control at all. It was frightening.’
‘There’s no need to be ashamed of anything. The whole point is, you really couldn’t help it. And the important thing is, you got over it.’ She covered my hand with hers. ‘And you’ll get over this too.’
‘It’s the unknown I’m scared of now, Linda. Who attacked me? Why? I wish the Barbados police could find who did it, so I can mov
e on.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
On her way down the A1(M), Julia was looking forward to seeing Ollie and catching up with her friends. It would be so good to get back to normality. Thank God for Fiona and Linda, she thought, feeling guilty at her relief at getting away from the house. She loved her mother dearly, but the strain of it all was getting to her, too. There was nothing she could do or say to make things any better and, anyway, her guilt was assuaged by knowing she’d left her mum in good hands.
When she arrived at Oliver’s place on the outskirts of Leeds, he must have spotted her from his window and rushed down the stairs from his first floor flat, because as soon as she stepped out of the car, he was there, sweeping her off her feet.
‘Hi Babe. Missed you so much.’ He showered her with kisses before swinging her round and round until she was dizzy. ‘Come on, let’s get your bag upstairs, hun.’ He grabbed her holdall with one hand and put the other arm around her, nibbling her ear as they walked. ‘We’ve got a few hours to kill, before we meet the others,’ he told her as they walked up the stairs to the flat. ‘I wonder how we can pass the time?’
Later, happy and sated, they lay in each other’s arms, knowing they should start showering, both too lazy to move. Eventually, Ollie swung his legs over the side of the bed.
‘Ok, lazybones, time to make a move. I’ll shower first.’
She watched him as he crossed the room, admiring his rippling muscles. ‘Mmm... lovely bum,’ she observed, picking up her phone to WhatsApp the other girls. ‘Oh, damn,’ she cursed. ‘Low battery.’ Looking around, she found a charger and plugged the phone into the nearest socket. Spotting Oliver’s phone on the bedside table, she picked it up, propped herself up on the pillows, and in no time was chatting with her flatmate, firming up on plans for that evening. Oh, it was good to be back in circulation.
The Stalker's Song Page 11