Invisible (12 page)

I felt tired, grubby,
confused, terrified for Daryl…and distinctly annoyed at having been swept from
my home only to be dumped in the middle of town, miles away. How was I supposed
to get home? There were so many other, bigger things to worry about, but as
everything else was out of my control I concentrated on the one thing I could
solve. If only I’d thought to pick up my purse before leaving the house, but it
hadn’t seemed a priority at the time.

I’d never really thought about
what happens to people after they’ve been arrested. I mean, I suppose the
police are far too busy to be used as a taxi service but it does seem a bit
much to take you out of your home by force, and not offer you a lift back.

Finally I remembered about
reverse charges calls, and found a working
phonebox
and rang Kim. Unable to face explaining everything to her, I simply said: ‘I
need you to come get me. It’s an emergency, a proper emergency. Sorry to sound
so dramatic but…’

‘I’ll be right there,’ she
replied quickly. Maybe it was my voice that made her realise, although I
sounded very calm, I think.

Perhaps I sounded too calm.
I feel too calm. I feel like I am very brittle and will shatter if I start to
cry or allow emotions to take over.

We journeyed home in total
silence. I did try to get my head together enough to explain, but…I just
couldn’t find the words. It was mental. Finally, as we pulled up, I cleared my
throat.

‘
Erm
,
I’m not sure what the place will look like,’ I apologised. ‘The police raided
us this morning, so they might have left a mess.’ Did they leave mess? Or did
they tidy up after themselves? I’d no idea what to expect. Maybe they’d have
helped themselves to all our goods and chattels in their crazy quest to find
evidence.

She nodded thoughtfully,
then
folded her hands in her lap. ‘Love, what’s going on?’
she asked.

Time
to spill the beans.
 
She
seemed to take it all in her stride. Maybe she didn’t and I just didn’t notice.
I don’t know. I don’t know anything
any more
. At some
point we clambered from the car and into the house, the new lock slightly
stiff. Aside from that, you’d never have guessed anything had happened here. A
couple of splinters of wood were scattered across the brightly-striped welcome
mat, and the front door’s white paint will need to be redone because there are
some gashes on both sides of it… The police don’t seem to have taken anything
from the house either, apart from some work clothes of Daryl’s and some
shoes…and they’ve emptied the washing basket for some odd reason. Aside from
that though, the place was pristine. It was surreal, as though the raid had
been one of those very vivid dreams you have where you wake up thinking
it’s
real, feeling it’s real, but knowing it wasn’t.

I slumped down onto the
cream leather sofa from a great height, the cushions giving a puffy, huffy sigh
as the air was forced from them. Kim offered to cook me some food, but I
refused. Then she offered to get me a drink. I didn’t refuse that.

I cupped the large vodka and
tiny tonic in my hands, watching the liquid quiver and realising I hadn’t
stopped shaking all day. Certainly my world had been shaken apart, so maybe my
body would be next. I took a big gulp.

‘Hey, I can’t taste the
vodka,’ I said, confused. ‘Did you put any in?’

‘I put in enough to poleaxe
an elephant. You’re in shock,’ she said simply, squeezing my shoulder.

I nodded. It made sense, I
suppose, though I’d never realised before that shock even affected
tastebuds
. Whatever, I took another big gulp. But what was
the point when I couldn’t taste it, couldn’t feel it warming me and relaxing
me. I knocked it back anyway and didn’t so much as grimace – I’ve seen people
in films do that and laughed at how unrealistic it is because you can’t help
but shudder if you take a massive, burning glug of a spirit, but now I realise
how completely accurate it is. Shock has robbed me of everything, even my ability
to taste. Nothing will ever be normal again.

As I put the empty tumbler
on the glass coffee table, I frowned. I’d spent ages finding that and a
matching dining table, which was just like one Daryl had seen in a magazine and
announced he wanted. He’d barely even noticed when I’d tracked them down and
proudly shown
him,
had just smiled in a vague way and
muttered ‘very nice’. What was I doing thinking about something like that at a
time like this? It annoyed the hell out of me, as though I was somehow linking
his ingratitude with his ability to be a killer.

‘Where’s Daryl now?’ Kim
asked.
Filling the silence between us.
Quiet as the
grave, they say. It feels like someone has died.

‘Still
being questioned.
I’ve got to find a solicitor from somewhere
I suppose. I…I don’t know what to do or how to do it or…anything.’

‘I’ll help. Everyone will
help. I’ve got to go and fetch Henry from my mum’s right now though. Are you
going to be okay alone? I don’t want to leave you. Shall I call your mum and
dad?’

I let her, while I stared at
the pale blue swirls on the cream rug as though I wanted to wear the pattern
away through sheer force of will. Then I felt a hand on my wrist, shocking me
from my reverie and making me look up.

‘Will you be okay?’ asked Kim
again. ‘I’ve called your parents; you mum is setting off right now, but it’ll
still be a couple of hours before she arrives.’

Mum would have to drive from
Cambridge; it was a journey she hated and I was suddenly surprised that she was
doing it. Wow, things must be bad - things must be as bad as I think they are –
for her to brave that.

Kim was staring at me,
waiting for an answer. I made myself nod, act normal.

‘Okay, well, I’ve got to
go,’ Kim continued gently. Then she hesitated, mouth twitching before finally
speaking again. ‘Do…do you think there’s anything to these allegations?’

I don’t know. I don’t. And I
hate that I don’t. I should be rushing round like a headless chicken, defending
his name to all and sundry. Why aren’t I? Because there is the tiniest sliver
of doubt and I feel awful for it, but maybe this is why I’ve felt for a while
that something isn’t right, and I can’t believe myself, can’t believe my
betrayal of the man I love, and how could I love someone who was capable of
something like that, and what does it say about me if he did, and what does it
say about me if he didn’t and I’m sat here with a sliver of doubt slicing at my
heart and soul, and I don’t want to think about this, am not capable of dealing
with this, I want to lie down and go to sleep, I want to watch Coronation
Street and worry about what to cook for dinner, I want everything to be normal
again, I want it to be yesterday, I want to be me, bored and wishing something
exciting would happen, I want…

But of course I can’t admit
that to anyone. So instead I said: ‘Of course there’s nothing to this! It’s all
a horrible mistake. And I’m going to do everything I can to clear his name –
then we’ll sue the arse off the police for this. They can’t be allowed to get
away with it.’

She looked at me for what
can only have been a few heartbeats but seemed to last forever. What was in
that gaze?
 
So calm, so
steady.
It felt like she was making her mind up about something. The
moment passed, she nodded, hugged me tight, then promised to come back as soon
as she could, as soon as she’d sorted Henry.

Afraid to be left alone, I
found myself calling anyone and everyone I could think of, even Amy and Hannah.
Even as I repeated the words ‘arrested…rape…murder’ again and again, I still felt
detached from everything and sort of calm whilst strangely agitated. I don’t
know how to describe it, how to explain that two completely warring feelings
can control a person all at once. The closest thing I can describe it as is the
way plunging your hand into an icy lake would feel like it was both freezing
and burning you, two opposite things happening at once.

Amy was amazing. I was
surprised by that.
‘Oh my God!
I’m in the middle of
Tesco with a trolley full of shopping,’ she babbled. ‘Look, I’ll just…there,
I’ve just dumped it in the aisle; I can get a bus to you and be with you in what…30
minutes. Okay? I’ll be with you in half an hour. Will you be okay until then?
Just sit tight until then.’

Hannah’s phone went straight
to answerphone but I left a message, my voice suddenly breaking where before it
had been so strong.
Weird.
Maybe it was the
incongruity of leaving such a voicemail for someone. ‘Something’s happened to
me and Daryl. I really need all my friends right now. Please call me as soon as
you get this…please.’

In the end, within the hour
I had Amy,
Una
and her husband Andy, and Kim round at
mine.
Almost a party.
Or a wake.
Together we talked about Daryl, about the charges, about how crazy it was. Yet
somehow people seemed to lack the passionate conviction I needed from them.

By the time mum arrived I
felt annoyed by everyone and just wanted to be left alone. I lay down in the
bedroom, curled up like a baby, and tried to sleep but couldn’t even close my
eyes. How could I relax in that room when last time I’d been in there people
had forced their way in and…

Feeling like a lost soul, I
wandered back into the living room, hovering uncomfortably, as if this wasn’t
my own home.

‘What does Daryl’s mother
make of this, love?’ asked Mum. Christ! I’d forgotten about her; she didn’t
even know!

Well, that
phonecall
was a barrel of laughs. She was funny from the
start, but then I always find Cynthia a cold fish, but instead of biting I
ploughed straight on with the news…

‘Now you don’t need to
worry, I’m certain it’s going to be sorted out quickly,’ I fibbed. ‘But the
fact is Daryl’s been arrested.’

I paused, expecting a
reaction.
A gasp of shock at the very least.
Instead
there was silence.

‘Hello?’ I checked.

‘Yes, I’m still here, dear,’
came the reply. ‘Why has my son been arrest?’

Cold
bitch.
She must have to defrost her knickers every night when
she gets undressed.

‘The police have made an
awful mistake,’ I replied, just about keeping my temper in check. ‘They think
he’s attacked someone, a woman, but we’re sorting it out. I just thought you
ought to know.’

‘Attacked a woman?
In what way exactly?’
Still her voice sounded steady as a
rock. It was as if she was asking me what depot Daryl was driving to or
something.

‘Well…I didn’t want to say
the details…but as you ask…
ummm
, rape.’

‘I see. Well they must have
evidence of some sort. No smoke without fire.’

I shook myself, stunned.
‘Excuse me?’

‘They must have a reason why
they think he did it, dear,’ Cynthia replied. ‘I have to go now, I’m afraid.
Goodbye.’

‘Umm,
bye.’

Unbelievable.
Poor Daryl, having a mother like that.
No wonder he’s a funny
devil sometimes.

My mum on the other hand was
great, actually. She even called the police station to try and find out what
was going on, and she’s so shy that she normally hates calling people she
doesn’t know. In fact, I think at some point every one of us called the station
to discover when Daryl would be released. The only thing we were told was that
they’d been granted permission to extend the time they could question him.

That can’t be good news, can
it…?

So now I face another day of
uncertainty. I’m exhausted, I haven’t slept in what feels like forever, I can’t
think. Please God, let the madness stop.

12.30pm – Still no news.
Feel like I’m going mad. I’m trying to remember something, anything that can
prove Daryl didn’t do these crimes.
Nothing so far.
But I’ve taken my diary to the station where I was questioned and handed it
over; maybe something in there will help. I tried to see Daryl, but they
wouldn’t even tell me which station he’s being held at, said he was ‘still
helping with enquiries’.

I didn’t realise, but
they’ve taken the rig too, so they can run tests, search it for evidence, or
whatever it is they need to do. Fingers crossed they will find proof that he is
innocent – a receipt, maybe, to show he was nowhere near when the crimes occurred.

6pm – It’s the worst news. I can’t, I
can’t deal with this, I can’t process this,
I
can’t
react. Daryl has been charged. Amy and everyone came round again after work,
and she called the police station about 40 minutes ago and we got the news.
Despite me calling incessantly, somehow I’ve missed the whole thing.

‘It’s up to him to call his wife and let
her know he’s been charged,’ was what the duty sergeant told Amy to relay to
me.
Great.
Well, I’d imagine Daryl had other things on
his mind and maybe didn’t want to worry me!