Little Boy Blue - страница 39

His hand had been shaking when he’d put the key in the lock and the house seemed eerily empty when he finally succeeded in getting inside. The twins had been picked up by another school mum and were still blissfully unaware of what was happening. Sally, however, was waiting for him in the kitchen, seated at the table with her hands folded.

He was about to kiss her, then thought better of it. He pulled out a chair – the trailing leg made a sharp, squealing noise on the polished wooden floor – and sat down. He saw Sally flinch at the noise and looking at her he now realized that she was on the edge of tears. The sight made him feel sick. This was his fault. All this… hurt… was his fault.

‘I haven’t been able to go out,’ Sally said suddenly. ‘They’ve been ringing the doorbell, banging on the door. I pulled the phone out of the wall, but they got my mobile number from somewhere…’

‘I’m so sorry, Sally. I never wanted any of this…’

‘Please tell me it’s a mistake,’ she replied quickly, her voice wobbling. ‘I heard the headlines, I know what this is…’

‘Of course it’s a mistake, my darling. I’m not a violent man. I would never hurt somebody like that.’

‘And the rest of it?’

Paul was suddenly unable to look at her.

‘That place. Where this man died…’

She didn’t elaborate further, but the unspoken question was clear.

‘Yes. I went there.’

‘How many times?’

Paul said nothing in response.

‘How many times have you been there? And please don’t lie to me, Paul.’

‘Six, maybe seven times.’

‘What did you do there?’

For a moment, Paul was tempted to lie, to soften the blow. He could start by saying he went to drink, dance… But in the end, he simply said:

‘I went there to meet men.’

Sally nodded slightly, then rose from the table. Paul rose too, moving towards her, but she held up a hand to fend him off. Turning, she walked from the room without looking back, running up the stairs to her bedroom. Paul heard the bedroom door slam shut and moments later the sound of her crying.

He walked over to the window, pulling the curtains round to block out the press photographers who were straining to see in from their vantage points on the wall opposite. It was a pointless gesture – it was too late to protect his family. He had never hated himself so much as he did in that moment. He hadn’t heard his wife cry in years and now in one awful day he had destroyed her happiness, her peace of mind and her faith in him.

His very public arrest would cause her embarrassment both at home and at work. The revelation that he was bisexual would hurt her deeply too. But perhaps they could have worked through those things – for the boys’ sake – were it not for the fact that he had betrayed her. He had lied to her night after night, as he slept with casual pick-ups. It was this that would damn him ultimately and he knew that Sally would never forgive him. Nor, if he was honest, would he.

From her viewpoint across the road, Charlie watched the horrible soap opera unfold. Charlie remained to be convinced that Paul Jackson was innocent, but she still felt for him and his family. Like her, they must have got up this morning with no inkling of what was about to befall them. They might even have been looking forward to the day. But in the time it takes the sun to rise and set again, secrets had been revealed, accusations made and a family’s happiness shattered.

Thanks to her job, Charlie came into contact with many unsavoury characters, but few were as unpleasant and pitiless as the journalists now camped outside the Jackson house. In time, they would drift away, as new developments emerged, but the next forty-eight hours would be Hell. The family could take legal steps to protect themselves from intrusion, but these things took time and in the interim press hounds, radio and TV journalists, bloggers and more would be beating a path to their door.

They would claim that they were only doing their job – ‘it’s a free country’ was the common refrain – but Charlie knew they enjoyed it. It was bullying pure and simple, the pack descending on whomsoever they deemed fair game. They would climb walls, scale lampposts, shout through letter boxes, bribe, threaten, cajole – all in the hope of getting a few words with the accused or a photo of his weeping wife. Many people out there thought the same of coppers – that they were only on God’s earth to cause grief and upset – but in Charlie’s mind, at least, the two professions were very different indeed.