Authors: Barbara Copperthwaite
Sunday 8
Argh! I’m so bloody nervous!
Tomorrow I start my diploma course to train as a legal secretary. What the hell
am I doing? What if I can’t hack it?
Oh, sod it, I’ve tackled
worse things than this and got through it. That’s one good thing about what’s
happened to me; I feel like I can tackle anything now, because I know I am far
stronger than I think.
This is it, the start of an
exciting new future for me. I’d had the idea growing for a while, and had wound
up having a chat to Peter about retraining and launching myself into a proper
career. He’d thought I’d be great at it, after all I’m organised, can type, and
well, I have a knowledge of how barristers and the legal system work, thanks to
my past. Might as well put it to good use!
Peter’s even put in a good
word for me at a friend’s firm of solicitors, so I’ve got a job lined up while
I train that could turn into something even better once I’ve got my
qualification. Who knows, I might even progress to become a solicitor myself at
some point.
Get me, making exciting
plans for the future! Not bad for someone whose husband consistently called her
an air head…
Mum and Dad are really proud
of me too. Mum reckons legal secretary sounds so much more impressive than my
old job – and she’s right. She called me earlier to wish me good luck for
tomorrow, and as soon as I’d put the phone down it rang again. This time it was
Kim.
‘Good luck! We’re thinking
of you!’ she sang.
‘Thanks! I need all the luck
I can get!’ I laughed.
‘You should have more faith
in yourself,’
tutted
Kim. ‘That man destroyed all
your confidence…’
There was a time when just
that mention of Daryl would have made my blood pressure soar and my shoulders
shoot up to under my ears. Instead I just brushed the comment away with a
‘well, I’m fine now.’
I really feel like
Daryl’s old news now though.
Which is great.
Believe
me, I know how lucky I am to be able to say that because I’m sure it will take
his rape victims a lot longer to feel like that. Will they ever?
But as for me, I think
I’ve come a long way. I’ve shied away from the memories,
then
finally forced myself to examine exactly the depth of the pain, betrayal,
hopelessness. To revisit the world of lies he built around us.
Now though, I’ve stepped
away from it. I’ve done what I hadn’t truly thought was possible: I’ve moved
on. Will I sometimes still think of what happened and get upset
,
and
be influenced
by it?
Maybe.
I’ve learned
never to
say never
. No one can second guess the future – after all, I thought I
had a future that was all mapped out but it was built on nothing at all.
So now I take one day at a
time, and tomorrow is looking pretty darn exciting.
‘Anyway, how are you doing?’
I asked Kim, taking the subject away from me.
‘Oh, I’m fine!
Peter’s at work and Henry’s just playing around in the pool.
And…guess what? I’m pregnant!’
I screamed down the phone
then, probably bursting her eardrums, but that’s okay because she joined right
in and burst mine back! After that we chatted animatedly about why tiny socks
are so cute, whether she felt like she was having a boy or a girl (girl, but
she changes her mind daily), how excited Henry and Peter were… She promised to
email me her scan picture too; she’d had it done that day, and had been
desperate to tell me her news now she knew the pregnancy was going well.
‘Come and visit soon,’ she
begged as we said our goodbyes. ‘I know you’re really busy now being
high-powered…’
‘Yeah,
right!’
I laughed.
‘…But visit soon!’ she
finished.
Hmm, maybe I will.
Sunday 9
Noon
-
Well here I am at the start of a trip of a lifetime. Going to
Australia, to visit Kim, Peter, Henry and their new addition, little Eve. I’ve
never been on a trip like this – in fact I’ve never gone anywhere alone, so I’m
drinking it all in and making the most of every moment.
I’m currently sat next
to a woman who has been filing her nails for 45
mins
.
I’m amazed she’s got anything left. Eventually, by the time we reach Singapore
to re-fuel, presumably all that will be left will be bloody stumps.
How bizarre, the
Captain’s just made an announcement. No sleeping on the floor is allowed. Who
on earth would?!
The file’s still out…
Anyway, I booked this
holiday in November as soon as Eve was born, and it felt like it would never
arrive, but suddenly here I am, flying for 24 hours solid, on my own, to
Sydney. Boy, am I looking forward to this holiday. It’s my first since the Daryl
incident (as I now call it. Well, God knows it needed some kind of shorthand
title and nothing was going to do it justice) and I reckon I really deserve it
after everything.
Funny, people think it’s
brave of me to get on a flight alone and fly to Oz, but I don’t feel it. All
I’m doing is getting on a plane one end and getting off at the other, where Kim
is meeting me. It’s a picnic compared to everything else that’s happened to me.
This holiday isn’t the
only good bit of news I’ve had lately. My training is going really well, and my
employers are so impressed with me that I’m already in line for a promotion.
Seems I’m a natural legal secretary! And last Friday I went out with some women
from work and I met a guy called George; we’re going to meet up, hopefully,
when I get back in a month’s time. That’s helping with the old positivity!
He’s not going
to be The One, I know that. But he’ll be a step towards finding The One. Time
to dip my toe in the water again, but I’ll be looking out for sharks. Of
course, I worry that basically every man is a shark of some form or other, or
that I’ve got truly bad taste in men and will somehow, in a room packed with
hundreds of normal blokes manage to pick the only twisted, perverted weirdo in
it…but I can’t hide away from life forever. I won’t let myself.
Seriously, does that
woman have nails made of steel? Ooh, blimey, I think she’s finally finished
filing!
Anyway, I’m 34,000 feet
up in the air and feel like I can see my future laid out below me. Maybe I’ll
train to be a solicitor, maybe I’ll fall in love and have oodles of babies,
maybe
I’ll even move to Oz myself, who can say. Whatever
happens, life is just waiting for me to grab it, and from now on I’m only going
to accept good things.
I’m free.
Totally free.
WAKEFIELD PRISON
Tuesday
Every day is the same, a
numbing grind of boredom divided by work, exercise time, and staring at the
four walls of my little cell. At least I don’t have to share with anyone, so it
gives me plenty of time to think about everything.
My
past.
The mistakes I’ve made. How I’d put them right in a
flash if I could go back in time. I can’t of course, all I can do is learn from
it, and my God have I.
Yes, I won’t make the same
mistakes again. I won’t get caught.
The divorce came through
today. Which means that fucking whore is out there somewhere celebrating,
thinking that she has won. But that’s okay, let her have her time of triumph,
it’ll make it all the sweeter when I show her how to really play the game. I’m
being a good boy, I’m never in trouble in here, and in twelve years I’ll charm
the parole board like I can always charm anyone I want to.
Then I’ll be free to go
after that little bitch and make her pay for what she’s done to me.
I win.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I OWE HUGE thanks to so many people for listening to me as I
became increasingly caught up in the writing of this book, so apologies if I
miss anyone out.
Firstly, I have to thank Paul Humphreys. Invisible may have
happened eventually without him, but his support made it easier, faster, and
far more pleasant! The difference he made can’t be underestimated. What’s more,
he created the amazing book cover for me – talented, eh?
I was given great insight into how the police worked by
Lindsay Baxter, who has also been a good and true friend to me. As if that
weren’t enough, she even introduced me to Richard Graham, a legal eagle who was
so patient when replying to my many and varied random queries about court
process, etc. Any factual
innacuracies
are my own,
either through misunderstanding or for the sake of the story.
Thanks to my guinea pigs, who not only had to listen to me
describing plots and plans in great detail (your patience and stellar
friendship in not telling me to just shut up will be forever appreciated!) but
also read the first draft of my novel and made positive, constructive comments.
My wonderful mother, Eileen (a true inspiration!), my sister, Ellen, Jean
Jollands
(official nagger for constantly telling me to keep
writing – thank you), Fiona Ford, Mary
Hykel
Hunt, and
Kerry Harden: all take a bow, please.
I’m so very grateful to you all.