Little Boy Blue

47

They stood staring at each other, neither daring to speak.

The enormous relief Paul Jackson had felt on being told he was to be released swiftly turned to anxiety, when he realized what lay ahead. He didn’t trust himself to call Sally – he wasn’t even sure if she’d answer – so he’d texted her. His message was brief, saying simply that he was on his way home and would see her shortly. It was the kind of anodyne message he had sent a hundred times before. Now, however, it had a very different meaning.

He had hoped to avoid the press by sneaking out of the back exit of Southampton Central, but they were waiting for him there, as they were when he eventually pulled into his road. There was no question of heading in via the back door – the garden wall was too high to be scaled without a ladder – so getting out of the car he made a dash for the front gate. Immediately, he cannoned off one journalist, knocking over a photographer in the process. Nobody actually laid a hand on him but they all contrived to impede his progress. They wanted to provoke him, to get him to lash out, but he kept his head down until he reached the sanctuary of his front door.

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.