A wiggle of a paperclip and the lock on the back door of Pascoe’s house gives way.
Breaking and entering. In other words, burglary. Not that I plan to take anything, but I have forced my way into a house without the owner’s consent. That makes me a burglar. Me. Ally Dymond. Straight down the line, always by the book, upholder of the law. Only, I am none of those things any more. I have hammered many nails into my career coffin over the last few days; this is the final one.
My hands sheathed in latex gloves, I ease the door open in case it has a repertoire of noises ready to alert its owners. It doesn’t and I slide between the narrow gap I’ve created and into the kitchen. Its shiny white units and white-tiled floor smelling of bleach have all the welcome of a hospital examination room. This is Pascoe’s territory, not Jackie’s, and its coldness causes me to hesitate, but only for a moment.
The house is silent. Pascoe’s car is gone from the driveway and maybe he’s taken Jackie with him, although they don’t look the day-trip type. It’s been a wasted journey if he has.
Slipping off my trainers, I move into the hallway, my socks gliding silently across the parquet flooring. I need to go quietly.
The door to the living room is open. A low whine drifts out from within. At first I think Pascoe has got a dog, but the noise comes again and it’s less of a growl, more a groan and this time it has a human quality. It’s not a dog. It’s Jackie Pascoe and she sounds in pain.
I take a step nearer to the living room and peer in. Dozens of glassy eyes seem to turn in my direction, but they’re powerless to warn their owner. The TVs are on, tuned to the live cam on Morte Sands.
Jackie is in her reclining chair, her legs poking out from under her dress like straws. On the side table is a bundle of screwed-up sweet wrappers. Her shoulders shudder and her face is buried in a teddy, the one with the white loin cloth and glasses that I think must be Gandhi. She’s crying, not in physical pain, but in despair.
My heart heaves. I know she told Simon about my visit, but I feel nothing but pity for her. She’s a victim too. I don’t know what he’s done to her, but I do know she’s wasting away and needs to get out of here.
Another, louder groan slips out of her and something aches inside me like a bruise has been pressed that I thought had long faded. I am Jackie and she is me. She thinks she’s free. She thinks every thought is her own, but it isn’t. It belongs to Pascoe in the same way that mine belonged to Sean. That’s how it works. You’re subsumed into them and you can’t even see it yourself. You are a satellite moon to their planet, believing you determine your own existence when you’re entirely dependent on them, body and mind, never free from their orbit.
But it’s not too late. She can leave with me today. She can stay at the cabin for as long as it remains my home. I can get her help. I can save her.
I step silently into the room just as Jackie takes a sudden deep breath like her inner voice has just given her a talking to, telling her to stop with the tears. She lowers the teddy onto her lap and strokes his head.
‘All I want to do is go to the beach with him. It’d be such fun. I know it would. He works so hard and it makes him grumpy, but I know a trip to the beach would cheer him up.’ She heaves a huge sigh like a teenager with a crush on an unattainable pop star. ‘If only he knew how much I love him.’
This is going to be harder than I thought. She’s besotted with Pascoe, but she’s my only hope of bringing him to justice and preventing him from hurting Megan again or anyone else.
First, I need to make sure she can’t call for help. Taking a deep breath, I rush into the room. Immediately, her head twists round. Shock registers across her face and she goes to grab the mobile phone from the table beside her, but I already have it in my hand. She grips the arms of her chair in fear.
I raise my hands to show I mean no harm.
‘It’s all right, Jackie. I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘What do you want, then?’
‘I just want to talk.’
Her lips wobble.
‘I trusted you and you tricked me. You said Simon was going to get an OBE.’
‘I know. That was very wrong of me. I’m very sorry. Please, I just want to talk.’
She’s terrified, but not just of me, though. Her mind is full of what will happen if Pascoe were to walk through the door. Not to me, but to her. How much will she be blamed for my presence? How much will she be punished? I know what that feels like, to take the rap for the delivery man not showing up on time or the live football stream not working. I’m on your side, Jackie. I just want you to be on mine.
‘I see you’re watching Morte Sands. It’s a lovely beach.’ She glances at the screen and then back at me, but my eye remains on the screen. ‘My daughter Megan and I have been going there for years. Do you ever get the chance to visit?’
Her head turns towards the screen and we both watch a family playing beach cricket. I sense her relaxing a little.
‘Arjun took me once. Before he got the sack. Until then I hadn’t been for years. Not since before I was married.’
‘Arjun? Yes. You told me about him. He was your friend, wasn’t he?’
She smiles.
‘Yes, I miss him.’
‘Would you like to see him again?’
‘Oh yes, but Simon says he’s a crook, a bad man.’
‘Do you think he’s a bad man?’
She thinks for a moment and gives a little shrug.
‘He was never bad to me, just nice.’
‘Sometimes, it’s difficult to know if someone is good or bad. Sometimes good people do bad things and bad people do good things.’ I let that sit for a moment, but I’ve no idea if she understands what I’m getting at. She appears to mull it over like a thought that’s never occurred to her before, but she says nothing. I decide to take a risk. ‘Jackie, I think you know why I’m here.’
She shakes her head.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘I need your help.’
This catches her interest. It’s been a long time since anyone asked her for anything.
‘What do you mean, my help?’
I pause. Christ, how do I put this? Jackie, your husband has murdered two women and tried to kill a third. Will you testify against him for me?
‘Well, someone hurt my daughter Megan and has hurt other women too. I want to find that person before they hurt anyone else.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
I nod.
‘I know how hard this is for you, but these women have done nothing wrong.’
‘I don’t see what this has to do with me.’
‘I think you do. I think you know I’m talking about your husband, Simon.’
Jackie bites her lower lip, like she’s trying to stop her words spilling out of her. A part of her wants to tell me, but that doesn’t mean she will.
She shakes her head.
‘That’s ridiculous. He’s a paramedic.’
‘I know and I know that he’s saved lots of people too. Like I said, good people can do bad things. Life isn’t black and white.’
‘Not Simon. I know him. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.’
She looks down at her fingers interlaced on her lap. She can’t look me in the eye because we both know she’s lying.
‘Jackie, I wish it wasn’t him, really I do, but Simon attacked my daughter, Megan, and he has hurt other women.’
For some reason, I can’t bring myself to say the word kill, as if I need to protect Jackie from the horror of what her husband has done.
‘No, not Simon.’
But it’s whispered. She doesn’t believe her own words.
‘Yes. Simon. It’s true, isn’t it?’
She bites her bottom lip again, but the emotion within her finds another outlet. A tear rolls down her bony cheek.
‘Jackie, it’s true, isn’t it?’
She nods. I want to ask a hundred questions: How much does she know? When did she find out? Has he ever hurt her? I don’t need to ask why she didn’t call the police. I already know the answer to that one.
‘I can help you. I know what it’s like living with someone who wants to control you, who persuades you that everything they do is for the best, even though it makes you feel sad.’
‘Simon loves me.’
I have to go so very carefully.
‘Yes, I think he does, in his own way, but you deserve better. Much better. And he’s hurt other women, Jackie, really badly.’
‘He wouldn’t hurt me.’ There’s defiance in her voice and I believe her. He’s never touched her and that makes things much harder. It makes her special. She’s the only one that really understands him. The other women deserved what they got because they didn’t know how to behave, and he didn’t love them like he loved her.
‘That’s what I used to say about my ex. Yeah, he’s got a temper on him, but he’d never lay a finger on me. Until the day he did.’ She’s looking at me hard, trying to work out if I’m feeding her a lie. ‘It’s true.’ I lift up my shirt to reveal three pale white streaks across my stomach. ‘I got these when he pushed me and I fell onto a glass coffee table. I have others too.’
‘I love him.’
I roll my shirt back down over my stomach. No. No, you don’t. You think you do because he gives you attention, tells you he’ll keep you safe from the world, maybe he even brings you gifts, but it’s all a lie.
‘I know you do, and that’s OK. But how many times have you worried about saying the wrong thing in case it sets him off? How many times have you dreaded him coming home in a bad mood? How many times have you told yourself it will get better, you just have to learn not to upset him?’ Another tear joins the first. I lay my hand on hers. She doesn’t flinch. Instead, her fragile hand turns and closes around mine. ‘The trouble is, Jackie, it doesn’t get better.’
I stop talking, allowing her time to take it all in.
‘What will happen to me?’
There it is – the first call for help. I let out a silent sigh of relief.
‘I’ll make sure you’ll be well looked after. You’ll be safe. I promise. I can talk to Arjun and arrange for him to come and visit you.’
It’s too much. The reality of what happens next hits her and she removes her hand from mine.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I know it’s hard for you, but things can’t go on like this. You have a right to be happy and you can be, but not here.’
She looks around the room.
‘It’s not so bad.’
Oh Christ. She’s talking herself out of this.
‘Jackie, things could be so much better for you. You could visit Morte Sands as often as you wish.’
She shrugs. I’m running out of time.
‘The thing is, Simon is a very, very dangerous man. If we don’t stop him, he could hurt someone else’s daughter.’ I glance at the live cams. A group of young girls are sunbathing in the foreground. ‘You see those people on Morte Sands. One of them could be next. Imagine watching the screen, only it isn’t full of people enjoying the beach, it’s full of police and ambulances and imagine you know the reason why.’ Guilt seeps into the corner of Jackie’s eyes. She looks away from the screens. Then it hits me. ‘Oh my God. It’s already happened, hasn’t it?’ Jackie can’t meet my eye, but I don’t need her to. I know the truth. ‘There’s a live cam on Bidecombe Quay. Janie Warren, the young girl that was murdered there. You saw it, didn’t you?’
She hesitates.
‘I fell asleep in the afternoon and when I woke up, I couldn’t find the TV remote. I wouldn’t normally go upstairs, but it was a lovely day and I wanted to see the children on the beach so I went into Simon’s bedroom and found it there. I don’t sleep very well at night and I like to watch the moonlight on the water in Bidecombe harbour. It’s so pretty. I noticed someone under the quay, I didn’t know what they could be doing there at that time of night so I watched them. It was dark, but I knew straightaway it was him. I put the remote back in his room before he got home.’
‘Does Simon suspect anything?’
‘I don’t think so.’ She pauses. ‘I don’t see that much of him. He has a very stressful job, you see. When he gets home, he’s usually too tired to spend any time with me. He often just goes straight to his room, leaving me downstairs.’
‘Oh my God, Jackie. You poor woman.’
I curl my arm around her; she doesn’t pull away.
‘Maybe it was an accident,’ she says quietly.
‘Maybe, and if it was that will all come out. All you have to do is tell the police what you saw.’
She picks up Gandhi and strokes his fur.