“I’d rather not talk about it.” Paul tries to quell the rising bile at the back of his throat. “I’m still trying to get my head round everything.” He needs to go over what happened that night. It’s a blur, he can’t remember. It’s as though he’s blacked it out.
“We’ll read all about it in the papers over the next couple of days.” He shrugs. “Welcome to Wonderland anyway. I’m Tommo. Come and see me if you need anything. You look like a first timer.”
“Paul. And thanks.” Balancing his tray in the crook of his arm, he accepts the handshake.
An officer is waiting for him at the end of the line, after Paul has taken a pasty and an apple from the servery. He passes Paul a plastic knife and fork.
“Is that all you’re having?” He looks down at the tray.
“I’m not hungry. Where do I eat?”
“In your cell. If you want to follow me.” The officer strides towards a steel staircase.
Paul follows, up a flight of steps, along a landing. The prison is as he imagined it. Yellow steel: as far as the eye can see; banging, shouting and an ambience of unspent testosterone. He’s seen images of this sort of place many times on the news.
They arrive on the first landing. Paul shudders as he notices the overhead steel mesh, presumably there to prevent suicides from second or third floor landings. The floor vibrates underfoot as he continues to follow the officer. He catches sight of the signs outside other cells. Robinson; 60310 5 years. Metcalfe; 52798 9 years. Lambert; 31542; life; then he sees his sign: Little; 6 years; Jackson; 78465 RP. It might as well say RIP.
“That means remand prisoner,” explains the officer. “It’ll be changed after sentencing.”
“I won’t be sentenced. I shouldn’t be here in the first place.” Paul tries to stop his voice from rising as he notices a man in the cell staring at him from where he sits at the table. “I didn’t do what I’m accused of.”
“If I had a pound for every time I heard that.” The officer’s laughing at him. “Let me introduce you to your new cellmate, Paul Jackson, Stephen Little. I’ll leave you two to become acquainted. Oh, while I think on.” He sweeps his gaze over them. “Do you both want a TV organising? It’s one pound a week off your allowance. Each.”
“Please.” Stephen answers quickly without looking at Paul. “How soon can we have it? That alright with you mate?”
“Yep.”
“Within a day or two.” The officer replies to Stephen then looks at Paul. “Association’s at six. We’ll come and unlock you both when it’s time. You can choose whether you want to come out for an hour. Or you can stay here. It’s up to you. You’ll be unlocked regardless.”
“Thanks.” He takes a bite of his apple as the lock clicks in the cell door. “How are you doing mate?” He looks at Stephen. He looks OK. Not a tattoo in sight.
“Er, yeah. Alright I suppose. Considering. What you in for?”
Paul steels himself to answer the question he knows is going to keep coming up. “My wife’s been stabbed. They think I did it.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Well that’s good enough for me.” Stephen holds out his hand. “Good to meet you. I wondered how long I’d be on me own.”
“Paul. Likewise. Albeit it’s a shame we’re not in different circumstances. How about you?”
“I killed three people. I was steaming. I was the driver.”
“Shit.” He’s sharing a space with a man who’s killed three people. Yet he seems pretty respectable. What a nightmare! The cell reeks of cleaning fluid. Still it’s better than the stench on the landing. Paul slides his tray onto the table opposite Stephen although he has no idea how he is going to swallow his food or keep it down. He tries to banish unwanted images of men excreting bodily fluids. Welcome to wonderland. The earlier words he heard echo through his mind.
Chapter Nine
Emily’s voice rang out far too loudly. “Why are you sleeping here Daddy?”
“Quiet Emily.” Paul hissed. “The last thing we want is to wake your mother.” As Emily shrank back from him, he realised he’d been too harsh. He yawned as he sat up. “Sorry Emily. Daddy’s just tired.”
“Can I open the curtains?” She tiptoed towards the window, her exuberance somewhat curtailed.
Paul rubbed his eyes then closed them again at the memory of the previous evening. God, what was today going to bring?
“Can you make me some breakfast Daddy?” She flung the door of the living room open as she spoke.
“Emily,” he snapped. “You’re going to have to keep your voice down.” He felt wretched keeping her quiet but desperately did not want to encounter Michelle yet. Especially when she’d be in a hungover state. Hopefully she had hit the toilet when being sick. He wouldn’t be able to manage cleaning that.
“Ugh.” Emily’s nose wrinkled as she trailed behind her father into the kitchen. “It smells in here.” Clearly, Paul could have done a more efficient job of cleaning the takeaway debris the night before. The smell turned his already churning gut some more.
“Eat your breakfast in the living room.” He pointed towards the door.
“Won’t Mummy go mad with me?” A worried look crossed her face.
“She won’t know. Keep the noise down.” He patted the top of her dark head as he presented her with a bowl of cereal. “She’s in bed. If you stay quiet, we’ll go to the park.”
“Can Mummy come too?”
“We’ll see.”
Paul left her eating and crept upstairs to wash and dress. A search amongst the ironing pile yielded some jeans and a hoody, which he pulled on silently, not giving a toss how creased they were. Since he had married he had lost at least an inch around his waist. People kept commenting on it. There was no way, however, he was venturing into his bedroom to find a belt.
Tiptoeing around Emily’s bedroom, he innately knew which bits of floor squeaked and which drawer to open slowly because it scraped. Then, knowing the boiler would make a whistling, blowing noise given the chance, he ran the cold tap, which was a shock as he splashed it on his face. He was taking no chances of waking Michelle up yet. The longer she slept, the more amenable she would be upon awakening. He couldn’t take her crap today. That much he knew.
Upon hearing the rattling of her lead, Carla rose dutifully from the spot on the landing where she had spent the remainder of the night.
“Hurry up Em,” he urged, hearing a creak overhead as she dragged her coat on. “We need to go now if we’re off to the park.”
“But what about my hair Daddy and I haven’t brushed my teeth?”
“Never mind all that. We’ll sort it later.”
Hearing the bedroom door open, he grabbed his leather jacket, and they sped out of the door. It was not until they had gone beyond the cul-de-sac in which they lived, that he could breathe. Emily smiled up at him. “We’ve forgotten bread for the ducks Daddy.”
“We’ll feed them next time.” He tugged an exuberant Carla back towards him. “For God’s sake, heel. We can’t go back now.”
The walk, he hoped, would clear his head, and as they entered the park gates he let Carla off her lead, to run with Emily. They distracted each other, giving him space to gulp in the cleansing morning air. With each step he took, his fists unknotted slightly. But his thoughts were more muddled. The more he tried to find a way forward, the more trapped he became. It was like living in some sort of labyrinth with only darkness at its centre.
Thinking back to the time when he had lost his parents, he remembered how he had tried to visualise the time when his own family would be a reality. This was awful; certainly not what he had envisaged. Far from it.
Emily hooted in excitement as she encountered one of her school friends. She had both her parents there, looking united and content. A weariness descended as he scrutinised the man that was overwhelming. I bet you weren’t wearing your supper last night.
He yearned to be like him. To have his normality. He was
going to have to regain some control. Whatever it took. He yearned to hear a voice so he took out his mobile and rang Nick.
“Alright mate. Sorry I couldn’t speak to you yesterday.”
“It’s a good job it wasn’t important.”
Paul wished he hadn’t rung him. There was enough crap at home without his mate giving him it too. “I’ve apologised.”
“I was going to suggest going to the gym. I’ve got a guest pass. But can you get a pass out? That is the question.”
“Don’t be like that. I’m my own man. I’m just at the park with Emily.”
“What was she doing answering your phone then?”
“I was wallpapering.”
“You wanna watch her mate. I can’t believe how rude she was on the phone.”
“Leave it Nick.” Paul looked over at Emily who was pushing her friend on the swing. “Emily stand back.”
“She has you well under the thumb mate.”
“What because I’m at the park?”
“It’s everything.” There was a chill in Nick’s voice. “Watch yourself.”
“Yeah. Well. Give me a ring next time you go. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll email you a permission form first for her to sign.”
“See you soon.” Paul sat on a bench and decided to call Alana.
“Fancy hearing from you on a Saturday.”
“I had a bit of trouble at home last night. I’m in the park.”
“Shall I meet you?”
Longing tugged in his belly. He fought to override it. “Nah. I’m with Emily. Just wanted to hear a friendly voice.”
“Glad to be of service. What’s happened?”
“Oh, you know. Some throwing of food. A bit of staying out all night.” Paul sighed. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You don’t deserve it.” She sounded as though she had lowered her voice. “You know what I think of her. And you.”
“Where’s Lee?”
“Mr Exciting? Oh he’s fixing something upstairs.” She giggled. “I’d have much more fun at the park with you and…”
“Sorry Alana. Go to go. Michelle’s ringing.” He pressed the button that swapped calls from Alana to Michelle.
“It’s me,” she announced. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to lose you.”
Chapter Ten
Michelle tugged Paul’s dressing gown more tightly around herself as she sipped her coffee. “I am sorry, you know. Do you have to look at me like that?” It was an expression she had come to recognise; disgust mixed with pity and perhaps fear. There was no love in his eyes anymore. She banged her cup down on the kitchen table. “I know I look a mess but don’t make me feel any worse.” She had glanced at her reflection after crawling out of bed. Her hair was Medusa-like and last night’s make-up had slid down her face. That which she hadn’t cried off. She had the hangover from hell and the coffee wasn’t doing her any favours. Its heat slid downwards, giving her heartburn. One wrong move and she’d be puking again.
Emily trotted in behind Paul. As soon as she noticed her parents, her expression changed and she retreated into the hallway, catching Carla’s collar as she went. For a moment, Michelle considered calling her back and challenging her. Why was Emily being like this? What had Paul said to her? She was becoming insecure about her own daughter to the point of being jealous of their little father and daughter unit, which made her hate herself more. She was always excluded. When she was on her own with Emily, she would constantly ask for her father. It was as though she could not compete with him.
“You said a lot of nasty things Michelle.” Paul strode towards the kettle. “You don’t know how awful you are when you’re drunk. You lose all control of yourself.” He wrenched the kettle from its base. “And we were fine yesterday. I don’t understand.”
Michelle wished he would hug her and the thought made her want to cry more as she imagined being cossetted in his scent and warmth. They had not slept in the same bed for several nights lately. It was her fault; she was driving him away with her insecurity, her drinking and subsequent temper. She was in a vicious circle but had no idea how to break it. It was as though she was sucked inside her own self and couldn’t escape.
“I can’t remember.” In fact, trying to remember was making her head buzz. “Like you said, I was drunk.”
“You shouldn’t have been out in the first place.” He cursed out loud as he overfilled the kettle and water spurted up into his face. “Not like that.”
“Are you begrudging me a night out now? It’s fine for you to go out though?” He wasn’t to know she had spent much of it, apart from about an hour, sat alone in the park, drinking wine straight from the bottle. The alcohol had anaesthetised her from the chilly night air and the hours had ticked by whilst she mused over her torment. He was going to leave her, she was sure. They all did eventually. Even her own father. She’d had years of being belittled by him. It had been him and her brother on one side and her and her mother on the other. Her brother had been vile. The years of being bullied had taken their toll. And there’d been no let up at school either. She’d been a pretty teenager with lots of the lads after her so all the other girls had hated her.
“No, of course not. I think we should go out together.” He dropped the kettle onto its base and flicked the switch. “If you can stay off the booze. We can’t go on like this Michelle. I think we need some counselling or something.”
“I know. I’ll do whatever it takes. I do love you.”
“Have you eaten?”
“I couldn’t eat a thing.” She stared at him. He was being civil with her but hadn’t reciprocated when she’d said she loved him and was avoiding looking at her directly. But he cared if she’d eaten. Although ashamed, something brightened within her. She had been an absolute cow. It was somewhat hazy but she could remember some of it. Shit. She had slapped him. She glanced at his face, checking for bruising. It looked a bit red but that was all. If he could put up with her like this then it meant he loved her. Didn’t it? “We were happier before, weren’t we Paul?” She wrapped her fingers tightly around her mug, slightly more relaxed. “When it was me and you. Before Emily came along? We had some good laughs.”
“We’re happy now Emily has come along.” Paul faced her now. “You need to trust me and to stop giving in to these damn awful moods.”
“I wouldn’t be in them if I came first with you. I should be top of your list. In front of Emily, your job, everything, especially that bloody secretary of yours. Anyway, one day Emily will grow up and you will be left with me again.” If you haven’t abandoned me by then, her inner voice was whispering to her. She was going to drive him away. She could see it on his face.
“For God’s sake Michelle. She’s six years old and you’re talking about her leaving home.” Paul slammed his cup on the draining board. “You must be the least maternal person I know. What’s the matter with you?”
Michelle sat silently as he stormed from the kitchen. Normally she would have retorted but continued to sit in the now silent room, sick and lonely as she heard the echo upstairs of her husband talking to their daughter. She could go up there and join in but was too ill and they wouldn’t want her to. She was on the outside of her own family like she had always been on the outside of everything.
Her hangover intensified as the morning wore on. She spent it sprawled on the sofa, in front of the television, still wrapped in Paul’s dressing gown.
“I’m going out for a while,” announced Paul as he scanned the room. “If I can find the car keys, that is. I’ll take Emily. Give you a bit of space. I could do with some, I know that much.”
Michelle lifted her head from the cushion. “I hate being left on my own, you know I do. Where are you going? Can’t it wait till I’m a bit better and can come with you?”
“I’m off to see our David for an hour. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him.” He swiped at the car keys, having located them.
“What’s brought this on?�
� Their rows had escalated the last few times in front of Paul’s brother. “It’s a bit sudden. When did you plan this?” Perhaps David would take advantage of Michelle not being around. He could give Paul his opinion and make him consider leaving her. Paul listened to David. He didn’t like her which made him a threat. And he had room for Paul to stay with him. She was jealous again of this relationship he had that she couldn’t be part of and wished she had siblings too. God, she hated feeling like this!
“Michelle, I’m taking Emily to visit her uncle. Nothing sinister.”
“And you’re going to leave me here?” Tears stabbed at her eyes and she fervently wished he would wrap his arms around her. Was it possible to be this lonely when they had been married for such a short time?
“I won’t be long.” Shuffling towards her, he took hold of her hand.
“Can’t I have a hug?” she whispered, trying to catch his gaze. “You’re distant from me. You never hug me anymore. I can’t stand it.”
“I’m not distant. You’re hungover.” Still he crouched further down and Michelle was able to bask in five seconds of his warmth. But his body was stiff and she sensed he couldn’t wait to let her go. She remembered she hadn’t yet brushed her teeth and was conscious of her breath, soured from being sick and stale alcohol.
“Why are you wearing aftershave if you’re only off to see your brother?” She caught a whiff of the Calvin Klein aftershave he normally reserved for nights out.
“Oh for God sake! I’ve had a shave. Do I challenge you about wearing perfume or make-up?”
“No, but then you don’t care about me, do you?” She knew she sounded like a petulant child but had gone beyond caring. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She hoped it was the hangover making her this low.
“Of course I do.”
“So why don’t you ever ask me to come with you?” She didn’t know why she was saying this. Like she really wanted to dress and go to David’s where she always felt unwelcome. He was civil enough, but his smile never reached his eyes with Michelle.
The Man Behind Closed Doors Page 5