“Give me the blade.” A woman speaks this time. “Come on. We can sort this out.”
A vision of Michelle emerges in Paul’s mind. She crouches, tears sliding down her face, the blade directed towards her chest. He tries to squeeze the image from his head and not replay what happens next.
“We must have you looked at, but we can’t come near you with the blade in your hand. Place it on the floor.”
“Why did you have to find me?” The man sounds broken. It’s echoing from the landing above. “I want to die. Why did you have to find me? I fucking hate the lot of you.”
“You’re needed in here!” Another man shouts urgently. “Yes, he’s still has the blade. Make sure you’re wearing gloves.”
“Turn that fucking thing off,” hollers someone from down the landing.
“Yeah,” agrees another. “If he wants to top himself, let him get on with it.”
Finally, the alarm is silenced. Paul has no idea of the time. All he knows is… there is no sign of dawn. Normally, he senses it at around 6:30. Yawning, he turns over, not wishing to lay awake for the remainder of the night. He has already counted every hour and is willing them by, needing to return to the courtroom.
Whilst staring into the darkness, he has revisited each word of the previous day, scouring each one for any slivers of hope which may lead to his acquittal.
It is feasible the remaining witnesses can be heard in the coming day or two. Perhaps he will only have to spend another two or three nights in here. But first he must face the evidence of his mother-in-law. From what he’s read in her statement, she’s arguing more over the fact that Michelle could not and would not have stabbed herself. Which is as good as saying he must have done it really.
Other than when she visited him in prison, the last time he had seen her was when she had been waving them away on holiday. God that had been a right trek.
The first leg of their journey had elapsed peacefully.
“Will it be much longer?” Emily had groaned from the back seat. “I’m bored.”
“We’re not even half way there yet!” Michelle smiled round at her. “We’ll stop soon and grab a bit of lunch.”
“Can we go swimming when we get there?” Emily chattered. “And go to the beach and to the park?”
“We’ll have time to do it all, don’t you worry. We’re there for nearly a week.” Paul stretched across the gearstick and squeezed Michelle’s arm. He had liked seeing Michelle helping Emily choose and pack clothes for the holiday.
“That dress is gorgeous,” he had heard Michelle say. “You look pretty in that colour. That’s why Mummy chose it for you.”
“Will you plait my hair Mummy?” Emily had thrust a hair bobble at her.
“Come here then.”
Paul had sat on the bed with them, watching Emily sit as her mother had tugged at her hair.
“Are you packing your swimming cossie, Mummy?”
“Of course I am.” She clipped two slides into her daughter’s hair. “There’s water slides and an outdoor pool.”
Emily sighed as she twirled her plaits around her fingers. “I think we’re all going to have a great holiday.”
Paul winked at her through the mirror. “McDonald’s or KFC? We’ll have to sit outside though as we’ve got Carla with us.”
“McDonald’s!” she shrieked. “And can I have an ice-cream?”
“Why d’you keep gawping at that woman? Don’t think I haven’t noticed!” Michelle prodded Paul in the arm across the table.
“What woman?”
“Her!” Michelle gestured towards an attractive woman eating alone, two tables away.
“I’m not.” Oh no! Paul’s insides knotted around themselves.
“I’ve seen her checking you out as well, you’ll be pleased to know.” Paul squirmed in his seat. Michelle was making no attempt to lower her voice.
“Michelle, the only woman I’d ever look at is you.” Raising his burger towards his lips, he decided his appetite was waning and dropped it back into its wrapper.
“You’re patronising me.” She slammed her drink onto the table.
“God, I can’t win, can I?” He slid his phone from his pocket. Right on cue, it beeped.
“Who’s that?” Michelle’s hand swooped for it but was not quick enough.
“It’s only David. He hopes we have a nice break.”
“Let me see.” Her hand swiped at the phone again.
“No.” Folding his bony fingers around it, he put it in his pocket. “It’s time you trusted me.”
“If you’d nothing to hide, you’d let me see it!” Her chair scraped against the concrete as she flung it back. “I’m off to wait in the car.”
He decided to leave her for ten minutes before heading to the car park of the motorway service station. There was no sign of Michelle at the car.
“Let’s wait here for a few minutes. She’s probably at the loo or something.” They perched side-by-side at a picnic table.
Emily shivered in her short-sleeved sun dress. “I’m cold.” Carla lay across Emily’s feet.
The wind of the exposed motorway was whipping up around them. “We’ll sit in the car. Mummy knows where it is.”
For ten minutes, they waited in the silence. Carla gave a whimper and stretched herself out. A car pulled up beside them. Out got a man and a woman, a girl and a boy; a family. The girl and boy were fighting. They playfully punched each other but giggled as they did. The dad slung his arm around the mum’s shoulders.
“It’ll be OK.” Paul leaned back and squeezed Emily’s hand. She was probably thinking the same thing whilst observing the happy family beside them. His eyes locked with hers. “We’ll have a brilliant holiday. Maybe I’ll allow you to drag me on a few rides. If we ever arrive,” he added.
“Where’s Mummy?” There was an impatient edge to her voice.
“I’ll ring her.” Paul raised his phone to his ear. “It’s switched off. We’re going to have to wait. Here, I’ve put a game on the phone you can play.”
They sat a little longer. “It’s been half an hour.” Paul glanced at the clock, trying to keep his exasperation under wraps. “We’re going to have to have another look for her Emily.” Fury was gnawing at him but he could not permit himself to be devoured by it. There was enough anger already. Trust Michelle to put a dampener on the start of their holiday. He couldn’t believe it.
“What if we never find her? Will we have to wait here forever?”
Chapter Thirty One
Emily scampered around the cottage. “I’m having the bedroom with two beds! Then Carla can sleep with me! Can we go swimming?”
“Not now.” Michelle dumped a laden box on the kitchen counter. “We were late arriving, remember.”
“Don’t blame me,” Paul flung himself on the sofa, unable to look at his wife. “You were the one who cleared off.” If it had been up to him, they would have gone back home.
“Let’s concentrate on enjoying ourselves.” Michelle shoved tins and jars in one of the cupboards. “What do you say? I’m sorry. You know what I’m like sometimes.”
“OK.” Something shifted inside him and he realised he could not be bothered with any more arguing. He stretched out on the sofa. “I’m as stiff as a board after all that driving.”
“I say we go and have a look around the site.” Michelle closed the cupboard door. “We could pick up a takeaway while we’re at it. Saves cooking.”
Emily strolled in between them as they wandered around the holiday park, holding a hand of each parent. Now and again, she would lift her feet from the floor to be swung.
“That’s enough,” laughed Michelle. “You’re hurting my arm.”
“Not as much as this hound is hurting my arm!” It was as though Carla was taking Paul for a walk, keen to explore the unfamiliar surroundings and food aromas.
“How about leaving the dog in the cottage so we can go for a drink?” Michelle suggested.
“OK. You go and buy
them. Mine’s a pint.” He wrapped Carla’s lead more securely around his hand. “I’ll walk her back.”
“I’ll come with you Mummy.”
Paul enjoyed having a few minutes to himself as he walked back to the cottage. Maybe being away would do them good. His phone beeped. Thank God that hadn’t happened in front of Michelle! It might have set her off again. Alana. His insides ‘jolted’ slightly and he wondered whether it was a nervous reaction to Michelle or something evoked by Alana. Whatever it was, he’d have to piece it together. Hope you arrived safely. He would reply to her later but choose his words carefully. It was a fine line.
A squirt of aftershave, a comb through his hair and he was ready to join Michelle and Emily. This could be a good holiday and he would keep his phone on silent from now on.
Paul picked his way through the crowd to where Michelle sat, absently staring towards the partying children on the dance floor.
“Why don’t you join in Emily?” Paul coaxed as he sat down next to his wife.
Shaking her head, she gripped her lemonade glass. “I don’t know anyone.”
Michelle tried to nudge Emily from the chair. “Do as Daddy says – go and make some friends.”
Emily shook her head vehemently, the lights from the disco reflecting onto her face.
Sighing, Michelle took a swig from her glass.
“We can’t stay too long,” Paul shouted, checking his watch. “I don’t want to leave Carla on her own in the cottage. She might chew something.”
“What?” The Bob the Builder music was drowning them out.
They sat for a while, sipping their drinks and feigning enjoyment at the multitude of oversized bears and TV characters that kept popping up alongside the children on the dance floor.
“It’s days like this when I wonder why I ever had kids!” Michelle said, as the air filled with smoke from the smoke machine. “What I wouldn’t give for a nice meal in a civilised child-free restaurant.”
“Don’t be daft.” But Paul could sense an undercurrent of truth in her comment. She had talked of having another but he was making excuses for now. If they were to, maybe having a boy would be good for her and redress the balance. However, his sensible side ruled this out for the time being. He sat, lost in thought, his hand cupped over Michelle’s.
“Don’t think I can’t see you!” Michelle snapped.
“What!” His anxiety rose like trapped wind.
“You know what!” She slammed her glass down.
“I haven’t a clue what you’re on about!” Paul looked around. Could he not sit having a pint without this shit? What was she on about?
“Eyeing her up. I’m sick of it.” Reaching down beside her, she tugged her handbag onto her shoulder. “How dare you sit with me whilst eyeing up other women?” She then flounced off.
Paul hung his head as a mixture of sympathetic and accusing stares were bestowed upon him. The expressions of sympathy were generally male, the accusing looks were female ones. He must have done something awful to upset his wife like that! He had no idea which woman he was supposed to have been ‘eyeing up.’
With her mother gone, Paul thought Emily was more relaxed; she bopped around in her chair as she surveyed the enjoyment taking place on the dance floor. Paul sipped his pint, trying again not to notice the togetherness of surrounding families. Yet he was unable to prevent himself from unfavourably comparing his own to them.
“Ugh! I’m never drinking again!” Michelle grunted the next morning as she staggered towards the bathroom.
It had been after midnight when she had returned. Paul had been astonished she had located the cottage in the dark, given the state she was in. He had forced some pizza down her and put her to bed. It had gone unnoticed he had spent the night in the cottage’s living room, unable to face climbing into bed with her.
That scenario had been increasing lately. Once, he had been unable to sleep properly without his arms and legs wrapped around her; now he wanted distance between them.
“Where did you go?” He called when he heard her in the kitchen.
“Just some bar. I don’t know the name.” She filled a glass with water then joined him in the living room.
“Michelle. What was all that about last night?”
“I thought you were looking at someone.”
“Well I wasn’t. And you spoilt what should have been a good evening.” It had been shite. He would have cheerfully driven home if it wasn’t for Emily.
“I’m sorry.”
“Really?” He looked at her.
“Really. I’ll sort it. I promise. I don’t want to lose you. I know I can be a cow.”
“Michelle. You’re going to have to sort it. You’re doing my head in. I think we should go out for the day.” Paul threw several of the windows open, hoping to evict the stench of stale alcohol. “Some fresh air will do us all good, especially you.” If only he could keep her out of a pub, he thought.
“I’m not sure I could face it,” she muttered, resting her head on a cushion. “Maybe you should go without me.”
“Go and have a shower.” He tossed her a towel. “I’ll do you some tea and toast whilst you’re in there. I promise you’ll feel better then.”
Obediently, she scuttled off whilst Paul flicked through the tourist literature left in the cottage. The sun blared through the windows. Emily was playing tennis with a girl she had befriended from a neighbouring cottage. That was a relief. At least Emily was not stuck, bored, waiting for her parents to pull themselves together.
“I’ve found somewhere we can go,” he announced to Michelle as she emerged from the bedroom, rubbing at her wet hair with a towel.
“Oh yeah?” Michelle observed as he methodically stacked slices of bread on top of one another whilst buttering them. “What’re you doing?”
“A bit of a picnic. We might as well go out for the day.”
“I suppose. Where are we off then?”
“I’ve found a leaflet for a wildlife and butterfly park.” He waved it in the air. “We can take Carla. It says well-behaved dogs are allowed as long as they’re kept on a lead.”
“Sounds fine.” She nibbled at her toast. “Do you promise you forgive me?”
“Yes. Let’s just forget it and have a good day.”
“As long as you know I am sorry. I don’t know what gets into me sometimes – I think it’s all the past stuff.”
“Emily’ll love it.” Paul decided to change the subject, not wanting to venture down that road. “There’s go-carting, an adventure playground and a picnic area. It doesn’t look too bad.” He wrapped the sandwiches in foil.
“Right,” she sniffed. “Give me ten minutes to put my face on.”
Chapter Thirty Two
Emily giggled from the back seat. “Look at Carla,” “She’s guarding our lunch.”
Michelle smiled as she turned to see Carla with her head resting on the sandwich box.
“You’re going to have to stop again Paul,” she said suddenly.
Paul glanced quickly in the mirror as he screeched the car up at the side of the road. Both he and Emily looked in the opposite direction, as Michelle leapt out of the car and retched at the roadside for the third time.
“I’m never drinking again,” she groaned as she slid back into the car.
“I’ve heard that one a few times.” Paul checked his side mirror as he smiled at her.
She fastened her seat belt, wincing it tightened around her stomach. “I don’t know whether I should go back to the cottage.”
“We’re nearly there.” Reaching for her, he rubbed her hand that rested on her seat belt buckle. “The journey’s probably making you worse. We’ll buy you a bottle of water when we arrive. You’re probably dehydrated.” He hoped she couldn’t detect the forced sympathy through gritted teeth.
“Quite the expert on hangovers, aren’t you?” She rubbed her middle.
“I used to be.” He’d had a few whilst she’d been pregnant. He had gone out
a little too much, he knew that. She’d been unbearably insecure and had driven him insane. She was bad enough anyway but adding hormones to the mix …
By lunchtime, she was feeling more like herself again. To Paul’s relief, she had stopped moaning. They had explored the butterfly gardens and she had waited with Carla whilst he had taken Emily go-carting. She said she couldn’t face it in her fragile condition. “We’re not going to stay here all day, are we?” She asked after they had returned to her.
Paul was annoyed. He should have known better than to relax. She never suggested anything. She was a pain in the backside.
“I like it here Mummy.” Emily spooned yogurt into her mouth as though she had not eaten for days. “Besides, I haven’t had a go in the playground yet.”
“Why don’t you two go on a boat ride,” Paul said, wrapping the remainder of the sandwiches. “I’ll stay with Carla and take photos of you both.”
“No. You’re all right.” She took a swig of her water. “That’s the last thing I want to do! There must be somewhere better we could go.”
Paul thought she sounded like Emily when she was in full on whining mode. “We’ll let Emily have half an hour on the playground then we’ll go somewhere else. Maybe to the shops? Buy some souvenirs or something?”
“Souvenirs!” Laughing, she stood up. “You’re turning into your father.”
He snapped the cool box lid on, feeling his face harden. “You never knew my father.” He hated it when she mentioned his parents. It was like she used his grief to mock him.
Carla was a nightmare whilst they looked in shops. If Paul or Michelle waited with her whilst the other disappeared into a shop, she would bark or howl. Michelle smacked her back end upon emerging from a bookshop. Carla lay down, ears flat against her head.
“Don’t bloody hit her!” Paul spat the words at his wife, a mist of fury shrouding him. “She’s only trying to keep us together. It’s her instinct.”
The Man Behind Closed Doors Page 17