Tilly takes a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Mum. I’m really, really sorry.’
The three of them reach across the table for one another. They sit there for a few minutes, quietly holding hands, processing.
It is sad and it is joyous, and Pauline – at last – can see her way out of all of this mess.
42
Pauline is sitting in a car, outside a police station. Teddy and Ivy are – as they put it –psyching her up.
‘You’re going to be great,’ Ivy says nicely. ‘You don’t even have to say that much. Mostly you’re just telling them the truth about him faking his own death, about the affair, and about what a jealous, angry man he’s always been.’
‘Then you casually mention that one other thing . . .’ Teddy adds encouragingly. ‘You’ve got the bag, right?’
Pauline nods, gently patting her coat pocket. She sighs. ‘I could really do with an Audrey cuddle right now,’ she says and Ivy leans forward to wrap her arms around her. It’s not as good as an Audrey hug, but it helps. It’s funny how quickly she’s gotten used to cuddles. Who knew how much strength they could give you?
‘Well,’ Teddy tells her in a scolding tone, ‘she couldn’t be here, could she? It’s pretty important to the plan that no one sees you with Audrey.’
‘I know,’ Pauline says and then steels herself. ‘OK, I’m ready. Here we go.’
They head for the station’s double doors, pausing to let a couple of women exit. They’re chatting animatedly about the appeal of men in uniforms.
Inside, Ivy takes a seat on a blue plastic chair as Pauline and Teddy head for the front desk. A handsome young man in uniform sits behind glass, and Pauline decides that she also sees the appeal of men in uniform.
‘Hello?’ she offers hesitantly and the handsome officer looks up.
‘How can I help?’ he says neutrally, and Pauline quivers. Beside her, she can feel Teddy mentally holding her up, and she straightens, channelling the bravado of Tina Edwina Fletcher – Teddy for short.
‘I need to report a crime,’ she says and her voice is clearer than it’s ever been. Beside her, her friend gives her a squeeze.
The police officer asks her a few questions and pales as she fills him in.
‘Just . . . er, wait a minute, will you?’ he tells her, waving at the chairs. ‘Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly.’
She expects to be sitting a while, but it is not long before Pauline finds herself being escorted through to an interview room by the desk officer. He introduces her to a Detective Sergeant Daveys, who tells Pauline to call him Thomas. He has a nice moustache that somehow seems sort of comforting.
‘I’m Pauline Sheldon,’ says Pauline.
‘Tina Edwina Fletcher,’ says her friend smoothly. ‘I’m a friend, but I also happen to be Pauline’s lawyer. I’m here to make sure everything goes the way it should.’
Pauline catches Thomas’s moustache twitch, but he nods, gesturing for everyone to take a seat.
‘Now, Pauline,’ he begins slowly, ‘can you tell me why you’re here today?’
‘It’s about my husband, John Sheldon,’ she begins nervously.
Thomas maintains a poker face. ‘OK, Pauline,’ he says carefully. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’m going to record this conversation and take an official statement.’
Pauline nods, taking a deep breath. Here we go.
Over the next half an hour, she tells Thomas with the moustache about her relationship. She tells him about the years of controlling, abusive behaviour she suffered at John’s hands, about his wild jealousy, his financial abuse, and the way he tracked her movements with an app and a notebook.
Thomas tells her this is a crime, as of 29 December 2015. It’s called coercive control.
She then tells him how John faked his own death several months ago and how he has now – just last week – come back to life. She is surprised to learn that this isnota crime. Not technically. Thomas explains that usually faking your own death involves some level of fraud, but John didn’t have life insurance. He just wanted to escape his life.
Thomas leans in. ‘Pauline, why do you think he did it? Why did he fake his own death? Did you say you were going to report him for the abuse? Were you going to leave him? Or was there some other kind of instigating incident that led to him faking his own death?’
Pauline looks down at her hands. She thinks of John’s affair. She thinks of the loan sharks coming after him. But she doesn’t say these things. ‘I work in a care home, Officer,’ she says at last, not quite able to call him by his first name. It’s too informal for Pauline. ‘As I said, John was very jealous. He was always very funny about me working with themale residents – even much older men – and he would constantly quiz me about them.’ Pauline clears her throat uneasily as Teddy uncrosses her legs, then re-crosses them. ‘John demanded to know the names of the residents I worked with and how much attention they gave me.’ Before her, the police officer makes a note, his face thoughtful as she continues. ‘There was one gentleman I looked after who was particularly handsy – though of course I told him off and asked him to stop. He was in his eighties, for goodness’ sake.’ Pauline tuts before picking the story back up. ‘John gradually became obsessed with this man. He was always grilling me about him and asking whether he’d come near me that day. My husband even showed up at the care home to check up on me and had arguments with the old man.’ She looks up, meeting the police officer’s eyes. His expression is concerned, his brows knitted together. ‘You can ask my colleagues there. I think they were shocked by his behaviour.’ She pauses to swallow hard. She has rehearsed this speech but it still sticks in her throat, remembering the way John would humiliate her in front of her colleagues. She inhales deeply.
