The dream was vivid. It has helped him to visualise her face again. Maybe it’s a sign. Keep fighting. Don’t give up.
The previous day, having plummeted so low, he has barely eaten, therefore devours the contents of his breakfast pack, secure in the knowledge no one would have messed with it, as all the items are individually packaged. Craving daylight, he decides to go out for some fresh air at exercise time.
As he waits in line, a screw approaches, holding a coveted pile of letters. The queue falls silent.
“Brown. Harrison. Buckton. Fairburn. Jackson.”
Paul recognises the eloquent writing on the envelope. Ring so-and-so. Meeting at such-and-such. The letter has already been opened.
I can’t imagine how dreadful it must be for you, Alana has written. But please don’t give up. The time will pass quicker than you think till you’re back in court. Any jury worth its salt will acquit you. You must stay positive. All will turn out as it is meant to, trust me! You’ll be able to put it all behind you and I will be right beside you like I was always meant to be. He reads her closing section, with a touch of confusion. The past can’t be changed. What’s done is done - let’s look to the future.
“I want to work today,” he informs the officer directing all the prisoners after exercise. Subsequently, he kills the morning scrubbing industrial units in the kitchen. It is a mindless yet peaceful task, allowing him the freedom to mentally compose a letter to Emily that he can write later. It’s something he should have done ages ago.
Dear Emily, please do not think I have forgotten you. I think about you all the time. I hope everything is OK and you are being a good girl for your Grandma like you always are. I’m sure you’ll be having fun at school and working hard.
I hope you had a lovely birthday. When I see you, which will be soon, I will take you somewhere special and we can make up for me missing your birthday. I will give you your present then.
I am well and looking forward to seeing you. When you receive this letter, maybe you can write a letter back to me. It would be good to hear about what you are doing and know you are well. I miss you millions.
Lots of love, Daddy x
He wants to write something that alludes to the night when it all happened – asking her to be thinking about what she remembers but the letter would be intercepted. He’s stuck here and he’s no choice other than to survive.
“I’ve set chess up mate. Come and take a thrashing.”
Paul opens his mouth to protest but decides it’ll pass an hour. He joins Stephen at their ‘dining’ table.
“How do you manage to stay upbeat?” Paul stares at Stephen who is pondering over where to move his first pawn.
“Visits, letters and being occupied. That’s why I’m always reading. If I let myself think too much, I’ve had it. Especially after what I’ve done.”
“It must be tough mate.” Paul moves his pawn forward. “You haven’t a bad bone in your body.”
“I have to live with the knowledge that I’ve killed three people.” Stephen’s expression darkens. “Try having that on your conscience.”
“It sounds like it was a moment of madness though. Anyone can make a mistake. The court’ll take that into account at your trial, surely? They’ll look at your background and all that?”
“I still took the lives of three people. I was off my box. What was I thinking - sitting behind a wheel in that state, I don’t know? Living with that is a life sentence in itself.” Stephen hovers a hand over a knight. “One day I’ll be released but I’ll always have to live with what I’ve done.”
“It’ll get easier.”
“Will it?”
After writing the letter to Emily and laying down in bed, events of the fateful night start whirring around his mind. Although he’s not going to admit to it, everything’s become a blur and he can’t think coherently. He can’t remember exactly what happened. It’s as though, as Nick suggested, he’s blanked the memory. He closes his eyes. All he can see is Michelle lying on that kitchen floor so opens them again. Staring wide-eyed into the pitch-black cell is preferable.
Chapter Twenty One
Paul jumps to his feet at the words “Jackson. Table 34,” relieved that his agonising wait has come to an end. He’s been in the ‘waiting room’ for over an hour and is the third from last to be called. Relief becomes anxiety as he swaps the waiting room for the ambient visiting room and locks eyes with his mother-in-law. She doesn’t move as he approaches her table.
“Hi Susan. I’d give you a hug, but we’re not allowed any contact.”
“I know,” she says, stiffly. “I read the visitors sheet.”
Paul looks towards the drinks queue. “Where’s our kid? I thought you were coming together?”
“He wasn’t allowed in.”
“He’s here? Where is he then?”
“Having to wait outside I’m afraid. The passport he brought as ID was out of date. Only just, but they still wouldn’t let him in.”
“But that’s ridiculous. It had his picture on and all that, didn’t it? How much out of date was it?”
“Only about two months. He had a right row with them. At one point they threatened to bar him completely. He’s gutted at being refused.”
“Me too. There’s nothing I can do about it either.”
“They spoke to him like rubbish. It shouldn’t be allowed. Things are bad enough for us all. They could learn to have a bit of respect. And there’s the searching, the waiting, the dogs…”
“I know.” Paul lowers his eyes, staring towards her sandals. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Bringing you here.” He looks her straight in the face. All he can see is Michelle. And pain. “And I’m sorry for -. I’m sorry.”
“About Michelle? What happened Paul? What happened to my girl? What did you do?” Her voice is calm and full of sadness. Paul can’t read whether she’s blaming him.
She listens as he once again, imparts his version of events.
“But you were on holiday,” she said. “You were fine when you all set off. Excited even. I waved you off, remember?”
Paul feels heavy. What has he done? He looks into Susan’s watery eyes and knows he should never have married her daughter. For some idiotic reason, he had thought he could fix her.
“I had no idea things were that bad again,” Susan continues, “you’d not even been married for a year. You were so happy on your wedding day.” She looks like she’s fighting back tears as she looks towards the drinks queue which has gone down a bit. “I will buy us a drink.”
As Paul watches her join the queue, his thoughts drift back to the wedding day. Appearances had clearly been deceiving. He had been anything but happy. He sits, waiting for Susan to return whilst remembering how he had swung the car door open at the traffic lights.
“I’ll walk from here,” he had said to Nick, literally minutes before the service was due to begin.
“Eh, why?”
Paul slid out of the car before Nick could stop him. He bent down and said, “leave me alone for a few minutes. I need to clear my head.”
The lights had changed to green and the cars behind were sounding their horns. Paul strode away from the car, cooled by the autumn breeze, which lulled him into a calmer state. It could be an ordinary day. Except he couldn’t go in. He would have to call it off. He sank onto a bench, taunted by the happy church bells as he watched plants wobbling in pots beside him.
A few moments later, the bells ceased, and he could hear leaves whispering in the trees. The peaceful sound didn’t do anything to relax his racing thoughts. He released a laboured breath, his solitude punctuated by the tapping of passing footsteps. He stared at the stone wall in front of him, beaten by years of wind and rain, darkened windows offering no clue as to what was going on behind them. The rhythmic beating of a pelican crossing ticked further seconds away and provided a stark reminder of normality continuing around him.
He rose from the be
nch. Without decision, Paul found he was walking in the direction of the imposing oak doorway. The breeze persisted, causing shadows to wave on the path and bushes to bow in the breeze. He felt sick. He had to do something.
But he had been a spineless idiot. Michelle’s voice had reverberated around the stone walls of the church as she repeated her vows, peering into Paul’s face the entire time, through her veil. She squinted in the sun’s blaze from the window behind him. He managed a smile as he squeezed her hand.
“Now it’s your turn Paul. Repeat after me.” The vicar looked down at his sheet. “I, Paul Alan Jackson, take Michelle Marie Duffy ……”
The scent of lilies combined with the woody smell of the church was making him light-headed, as he glanced into the congregation. His gaze settled upon Alana. Something in her expression was willing him on. With what, he wasn’t sure.
“Do you need me to say it again Paul?”
“No. I…” He stole a look at Michelle. This was all she wanted. Proof of his commitment. She looked stunning. Anxiety sparked from her eyes and her bouquet quivered within her grip.
“Paul?” Her voice was a murmur. “What’s the matter? Tell me!”
He opened his mouth. The words wouldn’t emerge. His eyes followed the length of Michelle’s train to where Emily stood. She had counted the weeks down until the day she would be a flower girl at her parents’ wedding. Clutching her flowers, she smiled as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. Something inside him gave way, like a burning ember, succumbing to the fire beneath.
Paul compliantly repeated his vows. The church echoed with silence between each line.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Turning to face Michelle, he caught sight of Alana saying something to Lee, she then stood and vanished along the aisle.
“Here you go. You looked miles away.” Paul is jolted back into the visiting room as Susan parks a paper coffee cup and a Mars Bar in front of him. “You need to eat. You look bloody awful.”
“Cheers.” Paul manages to grin at her. As he sips his drink, he follows Susan’s gaze towards the two children in the play area. “You haven’t told me about Emily.”
“I don’t want to worry you.”
“I need to know how she is.”
“Not good, I’m afraid. She hasn’t said a single word. She won’t smile or even nod or shake her head. There’s just no communication at all. I’d give anything to have her back how she was.” Tears fill her eyes again. “She’s been described by the specialist as mute. Some kind of post traumatic reaction. And I can’t believe Michelle’s gone.” A tear spills down her cheek and Paul reaches for her hand.
“No contact,” snaps a passing screw.
“Bloody hell.” Susan withdraws her hand. “We need to get to the truth of what happened. And for you to be back at home.”
“It means the world to me to hear you say that.” Paul can’t meet her eyes. He’s frightened of what she might read in his.
“What I don’t believe though,” she’s staring straight into his face. “Is that she did it to herself. No way.”
“But the self-harming…”
“I know all about the self-harming. She did it in her teens, remember. All because I was too spineless to stand up to her brother and her father. I should have chucked her father out years before I did.”
“I don’t think she ever dealt with it properly. The way he was with her, I mean.”
“It was the bullying too. She begged me not to go in to school, but I should have ignored her. The poor love would have crowds of girls waiting at the gates for her.”
“I know. She told me about it.”
“But I’m telling you - she wouldn’t have had the nerve to shove a knife into herself – not like that.” Susan touches her own chest as she speaks. “Someone has done it to her. And I won’t rest until I find out exactly what happened.”
“It wasn’t me Susan,” Paul says quietly. He realises it’s a matter of whether he stabbed her versus whether she did it to herself. And nobody thinks it’s plausible she killed herself. He could be in trouble at his trial. He needs to speak to Emily. On their own.
“I can’t bring my daughter back. But you need to be out there, looking after yours.”
“I know,” his voice is quiet.
“Your face is as white as a sheet. Are you getting any fresh air?”
“Not a lot.”
“Five minutes remaining.” A female is strutting up and down the central aisle like she owns the place. Several people gave her a dirty look.
“That went quick.” The tiny bit of a lift Susan’s presence has given Paul falls again. “It’s a shame you can’t stay longer.”
“Well I think we’ve covered what needed to be said.”
“I’m relieved you’ve come. Thank you.”
“I’ll keep on with Emily. She’s bottling something up. It’s more than just losing Michelle.”
“Alright. Keep me posted, won’t you. I’m really worried. And tell our kid I said hello. Tell him to sort his bloody passport out!”
Paul shakes his head at Susan as she looks like she’s about to hug him.
“No sorry Susan. If I hug you, they will search me when I go back.”
“I was searched on the way in. It wasn’t that bad.”
“Believe me,” Paul grins. “It’s a different kind of search.”
Chapter Twenty Two
David rakes his fingers through his dwindling and greying hairline as he answers his phone.
“It’s Nick, Paul’s friend,” announces an unfamiliar voice. “We said we’d let each other know if we heard anything.”
“Has Paul been in touch? He’s OK, isn’t he?” Fear clutches at David as he imagines all kinds of scenarios. “Susan only saw him two days ago.”
“He’s hanging in there. We didn’t have chance to talk for long - he wanted to ring you as well but there was a big queue for the phone. He asked me to ring you to say sorry that he didn’t get to see you when you visited.”
David thinks back to the sneering officer who noticed his passport was out of date. “Heartless jobs-worth. I kicked off with them in the end.”
“You must have been totally peeved, having driven all that way.”
“Well Susan was allowed in, so that was something.”
“How’s Emily doing? The kids keep asking about her.
“She’s still not talking. At all.” David’s chest is heavy at the mention of her. God knows what she is going through.
“Maybe we could get her together with my kids. They get on like a house on fire. Maybe she will talk to them.”
“I’m not sure. She’s not even talking to her friends at school and she sees them every day. Apparently lots of them are just leaving her be now.”
“Do you reckon she saw anything?”
“Who knows? I bloody hope not.” David glances towards his mantelpiece where Emily’s first ever school photo smiles back at him. It’s the only one he’s got of his niece. “With a bit of luck, she’ll have slept through the whole thing.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope so. It’s awful enough she’s lost her mum but…”
“I know.” Nick goes on. “Paul has his plea and directions hearing next week. He thinks he might be able to go for bail.
“Yeah, I know. John, his solicitor has already asked me whether he can come here.”
“You might end up with reporters around. It’s been all over the papers.”
“What do you think happened David? I’m just his friend. You’re his brother. You know him better than I do.”
“I don’t know. He’s not telling me much.”
“I know she’s dead, but she was an absolute cow to him.” Nick’s voice takes on an edge.
“I met him a couple of weeks prior to them going away and thought he was cagey.” David says. “He wouldn’t tell me much though. There’s part of me that would understand if he’d snapped.” There. He’s finally sai
d the words out loud.
“I know.” Nick’s voice has hardened now. “She controlled him. She was trying to isolate him. I could see it a mile off. Especially towards the end.”
“I don’t like to think he snapped but it is possible.” David lowers his voice. “This conversation needs to stay between us Nick. If we think it’s conceivable, he’s no chance. What’s the court going to think?”
“I know. I hope he gets off with it. Grounds of diminished responsibility or whatever. I’ll never forget sitting in that visiting room, and I will have been seeing the best side of the prison too. “I don’t know how he’s standing it in there. It was bad enough visiting. I don’t think I could keep doing that for a few years.”
“It’ll be more than a few if he’s convicted of this.” David can’t imagine it. His brother. Convicted murderer!
“Do you think? We need to make sure the courts know what he was up against.”
David glances again at Emily’s photo. “There’s a possibility Emily knows something that could change everything. It’s bloody worrying.”
“If what we’re thinking is true, maybe it’s just as well she can’t or won’t talk.”
David springs into practical mode. “I think we need to be putting our heads together with his solicitor and seeing if we can say anything which’ll help him.”
“I’m going to be called as a witness, so he’ll be wanting a meeting anyway. You could come along too, if you want. How do I say, under oath, that I don’t think he snapped?”
“I don’t know. Cross that bridge when you come to it. He has nothing to be ashamed about anyway.” David’s voice trembles now. It’s all too much. I don’t know how he put up with living like he has. I bet what we know only just scratches the surface.”
“We’ll meet for a pint mate. I’ll fill you in on the bits I know about.”
“I’ll have to go.” David jumps as his phone beeps. “Someone else is trying to get through. Keep in touch, won’t you…”
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