Secrets and Shadows

Chapter 6

They drove home in silent anger.

Janet was scrunched into her seat, as far away from Donald as she could get, her arms rigidly crossed, her nostrils flaring ad she stared intensely out ahead, as if to find answers in the lights of the oncoming traffic. Donald had tried to talk to her as they set out for home, but she sharply told him to shut up, there was nothing he could say, they had heard what they had heard. He had interfered with Julia which was why she ran away and killed herself with drugs. It was all his fault.

She felt that she didn’t even know this man, her husband. For more than 28 years he had slept in her bed, made love to her and all the while he was… was what? Having s*x with their daughter?

How long had it been going on? Where did he do it. In their bed? In her bed? She wanted to know but did not want to ask the questions for fear of what else she might find out. Did he interfere with David as well? Was that why he was so angry all the time? She was so distraught she felt suicidal, wanting to grab the steering wheel and drive the car straight into the path of an oncoming lorry, the only way she could see out of this misery.

heDonald was equally angry, angry at Janet’s stubborn refusal to listen, why would she not accept that he had never touched Julia. Never! And he gripped the steering wheel even tighter, wishing that it was the throat of that…that charlatan Serrano. How could Julia have been speaking through him? It made no sense. None of it made sense. None of the other supposedly contacted dead, William’s wife or Doris’s husband had spoken in their own voices, so why was Julia’s ‘contact’ the only one coming out of his lying mouth in her own voice?

None of it made any f*****g sense! He felt as though his head was about to explode.

The Jarrett’s lived in Fallswood, a wealthy residential district on the upper slopes of the hills to the west of the town. Their home on Blackmires Road was a large double fronted, 4-bedroom house set back some fifty yards from the road, partially screened by a high yew hedge.

There was a single garage to the side of the house and a gate leading to the rear garden, which backed onto an open field and then the trees of Westwick Woods fifty yards away. Built in the 1930’s it was a substantial house, reflecting well-to-do owners with some standing in the community, without the overt ostentation of some of the newer houses higher up the slopes in Heathcroft, sneeringly dismissed by Fallswood residents as ‘footballers-wives’ houses, bling without taste or character.

Donald drove the Volvo up to the gates, pressed the remote to open them and then drove up the drive to the front of house, the tyres scrunching on the gravel. He switched the engine off and turned to Janet. ‘We have to talk.’

‘The only talking I’m going to be doing is to a solicitor.’

‘Don’t be like that, Janet,’ he said and tried take her arm, but she brushed him and got out of the car but then had to wait for Donald who had the house keys. The rain of earlier had moved on and the night sky was clear, velvet smooth, the moon a bright silver crescent, as cold as a usurer’s heart.

‘Don’t for one minute think you are sleeping in my bed tonight, and don’t you even dare to suggest sleeping in Julia’s room. You can sleep on the settee or in your office I don’t really care where,’ Janet, snarled, once they were inside. ‘Don’t ever come near me again.’

‘Janet, don’t be like that,’ Donald pleaded, taking her hand.

‘Get off me, you bastard,’ she snapped, snatching her hand back.

David Jarrett, hearing their angry voices, came out of the kitchen, a can of Red Stripe in his hand. Even though not he was not very perceptive where relationships were concerned, he could hardly fail to sense the tensions between his parents. ‘What’s going on? What’s going on between you two, eh?’ he asked before taking another swig at his beer.

‘Nothing, just a bit of a spat, that’s all,’ answered Donald.

‘That’s all? Come on,’ David said with a disbelieving sneer, ‘Janet, you’re all steamed up and so red faced you look as though you’re about to burst, and you Donald, you’re absolutely tight-arsed with anger, so don’t say it’s nothing, just a spat, ‘cos I’m not totally stupid, you know. So, what’s going on?

‘Your father and I are getting a divorce, if you must know. I have found out something so appallingly disgusting about him that I can no longer tolerate his presence.’

‘Yeah? What, come on then, spill the dirt, what you been up to. eh, Donald?

‘It’s none of your business. And in any case, none of it’s true. None of it.’

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever, if you say so, but I did always think there was a dark side to you,’ David said, taking another drink.

‘What do you mean by that, David, come spit it out, whatever’s on your mind or apologise.’

‘Apologise to you, you must be joking.’ At that David drained his beer, turned on his heel and walked back into the kitchen to get another can from the fridge.

David’s intrusion seemed to have changed Janet’s mind where Donald was to sleep, for she said, ‘For sake of appearances you sleep in our bed, but I shall be putting pillows down between us and you do not touch me, not even accidentally.

‘If that’s the way it has to be, OK, but we need to talk.’

‘Maybe, but not tonight. My head’s in such a state that if you say another word to me, I shall scream.’

‘Fine, I’m going to get a scotch.’

‘That’s right, alcohol, your answer to everything. Drink yourself to death, see if I care.’

And that’s the way it was. In bed, they lay stiffly side by side, neither of them speaking, not even to say goodnight, neither of them really sleeping that night. There was just too much swirling around in their heads, the harsh words, the vivid images, reliving and reliving the awful revelations that could destroy their lives together forever.

Things were no better next morning, the atmosphere tense, febrile and acrid. Donald and Janet stepped cautiously, even courteously, around each other. They spoke hardly a word over breakfast, although neither had much appetite.

‘Well? Donald asked at last.

‘Well what?

‘What are we going to do, we can’t go on like this. And honestly, honestly I swear I never touched Julia.’

‘I just don’t believe you. You’re vile and evil, and I wish to God I had never laid eyes on you.’

‘Well, in that case, since you can no longer tolerate my presence and as David seems to have no time for me either, I’ll move out,’ said Donald, seething with resentment at both his wife and son. ‘I’ll get out now, today. I’ll stay at the Premier Inn or somewhere until I find a flat or something.’

‘Oh no you don’t Donald, you don’t get away like that, just so you can go and carry on your dirty little tricks with other girls.’

‘Well what do you want, for f**k’s sake? he shouted. ‘You say you want a divorce, that you can’t stand the sight of me, but you don’t want me to leave, you make accusations about me without a shred of evidence, but you won’t talk to me, so we can resolve things.’

‘Don’t you shout at me with that false indignation, we both know what you did, you heard it, I heard, the whole bloody town has probably heard about it now.

‘I didn’t do it...’

The rows continued, the words might vary but the accusations and denials went around and round and round, ever more bitter and rancorous, never resolving, the voice that came out of the mouth of Sebastian Serrano ever present, echoing and echoing but never receding.

And to make things worse, if that was possible, Newcastle United lost 3-1.