“Rose tells me you’re a builder?”
“At the moment. I mainly work in the restaurant business, but it’s a bit quiet at the moment. No-one’s got any money to eat out.”
Cate sipped her coffee again. She was asking questions to which she already knew the answers, but they broke the ice. Noone wants to hear that a stranger knows things about them; it’s unnerving. So Cate asked another question to which she knew the answer. “How long have you and Rose known each other?”
Jason frowned, “five years nearly.”
“And you met when she was working at The Grand?”
“What is this, Mr and Mrs?”
“I’m just checking I’ve got my facts right.”
“That’s a first – one of you lot caring about getting it right. Yeah, okay, I was working in the bar when we hooked up. When they layed me off I moved in here with Rose.” He ground his cigarette butt into the ashtray.
Cate was cautious now, realising that Jason was angry. He resented being asked questions, but she still had to ask. “And then she got pregnant?”
“Yeah, after we’d been together a couple of months.”
“That would be a strain,” Cate suggested, “an upheaval like pregnancy so early on in the relationship.”
“You reckon? We were chuffed, even if it had happened a bit quickly. She wanted a baby – we both did.” His eyes moistened and he palmed a tear away.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Jason looked up for the first time, and she saw sadness settle on his features. “Everything would have been different if our son hadn’t died.”
He stood up, a large man who needed to break free from the moment. He paced the lounge and went to the windowsill, picked up a silver framed photograph and handed it to Cate. “He was just two days old when that was taken.”
The photo showed a tiny baby in a plastic incubator, a tube taped to his cheek. Rose was also in the picture, leaning over her son, trying to smile but failing. She looked younger, prettier, despite the dark circles under her eyes. Her long dark hair hung into the crib. Cate handed the picture back to Jason.
She watched him holding the photograph of his dead son, thinking how vulnerable he looked. She recognised the need to protect your child, how strong that urge was, and here was a man who had failed. In that moment she realised that they were alike – the expression of loss written on his face was the same as hers, as she’d dashed to the hospital after Amelia’s accident. At least Amelia was well; this man’s child had died.
“Do you mind if I ask you about Emma Hatcher?”
He flinched, then sat heavily onto the sofa, still clutching the photo frame, and reached for the opened can of beer, which he swigged. “I don’t have anything to do with her now.”
“What about her friendship with Rose? Was it strange, having your ex-wife and new partner become friends?”
He looked at Cate with something like disgust. “It wasn’t like that. You people, always making out something sinister going on. It was just a coincidence, Emma and Rose being together in hospital. I didn’t even know they knew each other. Not until right at the end.”
“So Rose kept it from you?”
He finished his beer, wiped a hand on his jeans, as if there were some stubborn stain there. “I suppose she was worried about upsetting me. When I met Rose I hadn’t got over Emma. She left me for a bloke she met at the school where she worked and I was pretty cut up about it.”
“Dominic Hatcher.”
“That bastard. He knew she was married, but that didn’t stop him making a play for her. Rose didn’t know that the Emma she had met in the hospital was the same Emma who’d been my wife. She only found that out much later.”
“Do you really believe she didn’t know?”
“Rose is not a liar.” His face reddened, “and neither am I.”
“But at some point Rose did realise that her new friend was your ex-wife?”
He seemed thrown by the question. “Well, yes, she found out when she got to know Emma better. I don’t know exactly when. But when they first met in the hospital she could never have known. I mean, why should she? She’d never met Emma so she didn’t even know what she looked like. And she was re-married by then so she had a different surname.”
“Would you say Rose was prone to jealousy?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I need the bigger picture to form an accurate assessment of the case. I need to know if Rose could still pose a risk to Emma if she is released.”
“Rose would never hurt Emma.”
“I need to assess the risk,” Cate repeated.
“She didn’t mean to start that fire, you know.”
“The Jury accepted that. But she was still going into the Hatchers’ home at night. She was going into Luke’s bedroom and nursing him. And the fire was started by Rose’s cigarette.”
Jason bit his lip, staring at his own packet of cigarettes on the table. “It was a horrible accident.” He chewed the fingernail, viciously pulling the flesh. “Look, the reason Rose got a bit obsessed with visiting that house was nothing to do with Emma. It was to do with Luke. Our sons were born at the same time, that was all.”
He touched the photograph down on the coffee table with his finger then pushed it away. “Their boy was the same age as Joel and Rose kept in touch with Emma. I suppose she felt that Emma understood what she was going through.”
“Didn’t you understand what she was going through, Mr Clark?” Cate said softly.
He pulled his hand across his thigh, and Cate saw a sweat mark where his palm had been. “’Course I did. It killed me too, you know. But women talk more don’t they?”
“You found it difficult talking with Rose?”
“You’re twisting my words! All I’m saying is I wasn’t the one who had him growing inside me all those months. I didn’t get to know him – I only saw him for a few minutes in intensive care at the end of each day. Not that his death didn’t tear me apart. But it was worse for Rose.”
He looked like a man trying to keep himself together, his hands were rung together and his eyes wet, his whole body hunched over like he was weighing up whether to erupt into tears or punch the wall.
“I’d really like to ask you about Emma.”
“For fuck’s sake!”
“Where did you meet?”
Jason stood up and left the room. She could hear him moving around in what she assumed was the kitchen. A cupboard door was opened and closed.
Jason re-appeared, holding another can of lager. He took a deep swig, “I met Emma when I was 25. I was working at Newcastle Arts College. She was in her final year there, and I had some work in the Union bar. I first noticed her because she always drank Vimto and vodka and I thought it was the most disgusting drink I’d heard of.”
Warm lager at ten in the morning sounds worse
. “What else?”
“She’d come to the bar after rehearsals, still in her dancing clothes. Some of the students acted like they knew everything, and treated us staff like shit, but she didn’t.”
“She was different from the others?”
“Seemed so. One night we just got talking, and that was that.”
“That was what?”
He sighed, agitated. “Look. We were very young. We became serious too quickly, and then got carried away and got married. In a registry office with a few friends and no family.”
“Go on.”
“You really want your pound of flesh, don’t you? After she graduated she got a job teaching dance at a boarding school just outside Ipswich. I hadn’t even heard of the bloody town but I didn’t mind moving, I can find work anywhere. ’Course, if I’d known what was going to happen, I never would have agreed.”
“She met Dominic Hatcher?”
“Cracking on to a married woman like that. The old pervert should have kept his hands to himself. He was deputy head at the school, and it all happened very quickly. I tried to make her see sense, but she said she’d been ‘bowled over’. That was how she put it.”
“That must have been awful for you.”
“She didn’t care about that! Said she couldn’t help herself. So she moved in with him. That’s what Emma’s like, act now think later. It was a quick divorce – she accepted the blame, cited her own adultery, so it only took six months. She was married again before the ink had dried. Not that she didn’t regret it.”
“How do you mean?”
Jason swigged his lager then slammed the can on the table. “Nothing.”
“And when did you meet Rose?”
“Emma had just left me. I guess some would say I was on the rebound. But then, we’ve stood the test of time. Not like Emma and me. I didn’t even know she was still with that jerk Hatcher until I saw them at the trial.” He paused, “Emma looked awful, she could barely walk. I think she was pretty heavily sedated. We didn’t speak to each other.”
Cate nodded. “That would have been difficult. I always think it’s bad the way everyone is together in court waiting rooms. Victims and defendants together, it’s cruel.” As she said it, Cate realised she was thinking of Jason as a defendant. He was Rose’s partner, and may have known what she was up to.
“So after you and Emma separated, you met Rose. Why didn’t you marry her?” It was an impertinent question, but she thought it could be significant.
“Once bitten, as they say. I just didn’t see the point. I’d found out the hard way that a wedding ring is no guarantee that a relationship will survive. Rose would mention marriage every now and again but I don’t think it really bothered her. I’ve stayed with her, haven’t I? We didn’t need a ceremony.”
Cate wondered if Rose was really as unconcerned about marriage as Jason said. The fact that Jason was once married to Emma must be significant to Rose’s stalking; it couldn’t just have been about Luke. But she didn’t want to push Jason too far on this first interview, sensing that he could lose his composure if she questioned him too closely. She turned the focus away from him. “How do you think Rose has coped with prison?”
“Alright. Better than I would, I reckon.”
“She’s surprised you?”
“She always surprises me.” He allowed himself a slight smile that looked like pride, and met Cate’s eye for the first time, catching her off-guard with a question. “Do you enjoy working in prison?”
“I only started a week ago,” adding quickly, “but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“You’re not how I imagined a probation officer.” He was looking at her intently now, and she felt her colour deepen. He leaned closer and she could smell his boozy breath. “What does your husband think of you working in that place?”
Her right hand went instinctively to her left, to the finger were no ring had ever been. “We’re not here to talk about me.”
“You people!” Jason erupted, “You come in here and ask all these questions, opening up a can of worms when it’ll only cause trouble…” He stopped, closed his mouth tight.
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m not saying anything else. You could never understand.”
“Understand what, Jason?”
“You want to know everything but it won’t change what happened, will it? You can’t bring either of the boys back. You have no idea what it’s like…”
“Losing a child must be the worst pain.”
“She’ll never have another. You know that don’t you?”
“No. I didn’t know…”
“She can’t. When her womb ruptured, or whatever it was happened, they couldn’t fix her. Even before Joel died we knew there’d never be another baby for us. Can’t you see why she got so attached to Luke?”
“It must be terrible to be told you can’t have any more children.”
“What do you care, you patronising bitch.” He moved towards her, his hands bunched into fist.
Must get out of here, I need to get out.
She grabbed her bag and stood up. As she moved for the door her bag caught her half-full mug of coffee. It fell and dregs of coffee spilled onto the carpet.
She watched, feeling the blood in her cheeks, as Jason got on his knees and began blotting up the spilt coffee with some tissues. “Now look what you’ve done! What a fucking mess.”
He stopped blotting the carpet and collapsed into a heap, fighting back muffled sobs. Cate could just make out the words as he covered his face with his hands. “What have you done? Oh Christ, what have you done?”
Black Book Entry
I was 10 weeks pregnant, but I hadn’t told you. I hid it well, and I’ve always been on the heavy side so it hardly showed. I wanted to keep my secret for as long as possible, but I kept sneaking away to look at the pregnancy test, that precious plastic stick with the indigo line. It was a talisman; the proof that I was lucky after all. I had finally been blessed.
We were in bed one Sunday morning, and I was trying to cuddle up, but you kept pulling away. And then something in you snapped like you couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I can’t do this Rose. There’s something I need to tell you…”
“Shhh...”
I stroked your hair, kissed your cheek, all the time feeling the distance your heart was placing between us, fearing what was to come. You still checked your mobile constantly for text messages, the picture of Emma was still in your wallet.
“I’m leaving, Rose. It’s no good, trying to pretend. There’s nothing for me here.”
My hands clasped around the gentle curve of my stomach, the baby inside. “Please stay, Jason. I’ll do anything if you just stay.”
“No, Rose, you deserve more than that…”
“Just you! I don’t even deserve that…” I moved closer, pressing against you like a needy child.
“Christ, Rose, have some dignity. Don’t be so pathetic.”
“But I am pathetic.” I tried to cuddle up, but you pulled back to your side of the bed. “I love you.”
“But I don’t want you, Rose. I love Emma.”
How easily you said it. My next breath came quick, but I kept calm, “I know that. It’s okay.”
“Rose,” you were exasperated with me, holding me away with both hands. “What will it take to make you see this won’t work?” You rolled on your back and started up at the ceiling. “I need to get away from Emma, from the hold she has on me.”
“Don’t talk about that.”
“Get your head out of the sand, Rose. I never lied to you: you know I’ve been seeing her. We’ve had sex a few times, but she always sends me away afterwards. Anytime she has an argument with that bastard Hatcher she’s texting me.”