Set: December 25th 2003.
From June Ackland�s POV.
Title and one scene inspired by �Stop Living The Lie� by David Sneddon
***
Even from here I can hear the noise as yet another drunk is dragged into custody. That must be the tenth and it�s only�2pm.
Christmas. Who needs it? At least it affords me a bit of peace and quiet to get this outstanding paperwork done. The CSU is officially closed for three days, but the staff � my staff � seemed to have gone into shut-down at last five days in advance, what with the parties, the laughter, the mistletoe and flashing fairy lights�
None of it, simply none of it, has managed to put me into a festive mood. Why else would I be here, on Christmas day, alone, working. Married to the job, that�s what they always say about me. Must be true.
Last Christmas�oh my god, that was so different. If anyone had told me then that�we�d had a party, the two of us, me and J� dammit, come on girl, after all this time; can�t you yet say his name? Polly, Gina and Tony, and Reg of course�turkey and twister and chocolates and more food than we could digest, so much fun and laughter, I thought that was it, and when he slipped that eternity ring onto my finger�
Must have cost him a fortune, I guess. Or not � I saw one just the same in an Argos catalogue just the other day. He told me to keep it, but I can�t wear it, last I saw it was hiding, semi-lost in the back of my knicker drawer.
He told me he�d marry me.
And for a month or more after that, we�d talked about it, neither of us really being able to come up with any reasons as to why we shouldn�t, why we should put it off any more. But then�
I still don�t know why he changed. Whether it was something within him, within that confused mind of his, or whether it was something I said or did � ever since that day when he told me he didn�t want to marry me�we�ve hardly spoken. Not properly. Oh yes, we discuss work and the weather and maybe the latest reality TV show that we profess to want to ignore but still get addicted to�
He still makes me laugh, still makes me smile.
Well � he did, up until about three months ago. I thought everything was going alright, with him and Ma�his wife. He�d taken on his responsibilities as husband and stepfather well, better than anyone had ever expected of a man of forty-one years of age who, in some respects, is still a child in his ways and outlook. Gradually I�d come to accept that maybe, yes, this was right, that this was what he had always needed � even begun to accept that maybe he and I just weren�t meant to be, no matter how strong the feelings I still had�have for him may be.
I guess I was grieving. I suppose I still am. What is it? Disbelief, anger, guilt, pain, acceptance� I�ve been through all of those, not in any particular order, out of one into another and right back around again� Anger�that day in that cellar, his wedding day, I turned on him, spoke to him in a way I had never even imagined speaking to him before, spitting venom, hurting him, his eyes told me that� He forgave me though. He always did. Always will. So sweet�
Weeks I spent, confused, angry, heartbroken. God, I let myself go. People told me, over and over that I wasn�t who I used to be, that they didn�t know me any more. I used to tell them that maybe it was because they had never looked closely enough. That it *was* me. Alone, bitter, frightened. The June that went home to an empty house and drunk her way through a bottle of wine a night � in some ways an alcoholic, not able to face life without the booze giving me that rod for my back�
It wasn�t until that day, three months ago, that I realised that I needed to be strong. I needed to get back to the woman they thought I was, that I used to profess to be.
The day that my friend, my colleague � my one true love � became a victim.
***
He�d come in late � about 10. I was busy talking to Polly, didn�t spare him a glance but felt the familiar tingle as he brushed past me. Even after all that time, he hadn�t touched me in love for five months or more, my body continued to betray me, sending that familiar surge of blood through my veins, making my breath catch in my throat.
Finishing with Polly, I turned to him; he was already at his desk. He was staring at his computer monitor, his chin in his hand, looking tired and disinterested in whatever lay before him.
The way his hand was hiding his cheek drew my attention. It wasn�t a natural pose, not anything I�d seen Jim do before. I stepped towards him; he started as he saw me, ducking his head down further.
�You�re late�� I tried not to snap, to keep my voice level. �Family trouble?�
�Yeah�� His eyes flickered in that oh-so-familiar way. �Ben�s starting his 5th year, he�s already stressed about his exams�y�know.�
�Chucking a sickie.�
�Yeah�wouldn�t go for the bus, had to drive him in.� Jim shrugged.
�OK.� I nodded. �You alright?�
�Yeah�why wouldn�t I be?� I felt that wall slam up. The wall he�d put up all those months ago and had never let me scale. I knew that words wouldn�t be of any use, so instead, I�d reached out and pulled his hand away from his face. And there I saw a livid red mark, standing out against his naturally pale skin.
He jerked away, still trying to hide it, even though he was aware I had seen the evidence.
�What happened?�
He looked up. His eyes narrowed. �I walked into a door.�
�A door shaped like a hand?� I stared at him, incredulous.
�Co-incidence.� He growled.
�Jim, come here.� I reached for his arm. �I said � come here!�
Slowly he got to his feet, followed me toward the office. I closed the door behind us. �What happened?�
�Things got a bit�tense. This morning. Between Marie and me. I was siding with Ben and she didn�t like it.�
�So she hit you.�
�She didn�t mean it.�
�Do you realise what you just said?� I shook my head, in disbelief. �How many times has someone said that to you. How many times have you told them that that is no excuse?�
�That�s when you�re not on the inside. When you are, it�s different. People who come in here, women, they never give you all the facts. You can never feel what they feel, June.�
�So what are the facts?�
�Marie�s stressed out because Ben is stressed out. I lost my temper this morning, and she couldn�t deal with that as well.� He�d shrugged. �I deserved it.�
�Oh�Jim�� My legs no longer able to support me, I slumped to the settee. �Please, listen to yourself.�
�It doesn�t affect my work here��
�Of course it does! Jim, you�re a victim of domestic violence whether you want to admit it or not!�
�It was a one off. It�s not systematic. And anyway��
�Anyway what? It doesn�t happen to men? You can handle it on your own?�
He�d looked to the floor, then up, belligerent. �Yeah. I can. She�s my wife. I know her better than anyone.�
�No you don�t.�
�You�re talking about her history. The accusations of abuse.� He sat next to me. �June�I�m hardly an angel. The two of us, we can put all that behind us and move on, together. Her hitting me is just like me having a beer. She needs help, not recriminations.�
�You�re too good, Jim Carver.�
�No, I�m not, just realistic. I�m not denying Marie has problems. But so do I. So do you.�
�I don�t.�
�Don�t you?� He�d sighed, looking up at me with those beautiful grey puppy-eyes. �Don�t think I haven�t noticed.�
�Everyone�s entitled to a bad time.� He�d shrugged, smiled a wry smile, I left it at that. �But Jim, if it happens again, or�you can�t handle it�you know you can talk to me.�
�Course I do. But it�s alright. Trust me, June.�
***
Three weeks ago, Jim started drinking again. Someone saw him�Honey, sweet Honey Harman. She has a soft spot for Jim�in fact she�s like Jim was at the start of his time here, innocent, caring, eager�Jim had a little more up top I guess but otherwise the same.
Before all this, they made quite a double act, every time they got together you knew there�d be trouble, a practical joke, or something silly to raise spirits on those all too common times when morale got low.
I still remember Honey getting Jim to join her doing the Cheeky Dance at a fund-raising disco, back in July or August�Honey sponsored him to do it, others sponsored him to stop.
She brings out the best in him, sees him as he really is, I suppose apart from me she�s the only person to know the real �Jimmy� Carver. She�s privileged � I hope she knows how lucky she is. It�s good to know that he�s still in there somewhere, under the lines, and the pain, and the scars. Or is he�I don�t know.
The last three weeks�its� been happening again. He�s been off sick, six days in total, late for most of the others. He�s losing weight, enthusiasm�life.
More than once I�ve caught him looking as if he�s in pain, but if she�s still harming him then it�s somewhere I can�t see, either under his clothes or in his soul. Jim�s never been the most self-confident man, but now what little had seems to have gone, drained from him.
I wish I knew what she was doing to him. I know it�s her behind it all, in my heart I know, but I can�t do anything about it � he hasn�t made an official complaint. He�s just taking it, taking it like he always has, taking the blows or taking the abuse. Believing, still, that he deserves it, probably, for not being a good enough husband, or father. He�s a victim now, just like the CSU deals with every day, but one who, while so close, is slipping through my fingers, living in denial, refusing help until�
She�s killing him.
And it�s killing me to watch it happen.
***
I can hear the screams and shouts from inside the house even before I get out of the car. Ten minutes ago, Tony came into the CSU and told me there was a disturbance at Jim and Marie�s.
He wasn�t wrong.
I hear Jim�s voice � not shouting, but loud, trying to calm Marie down. Telling her to stop it, telling her to calm down, take deep breaths�
Typical Jim.
But her, she�s screaming, swearing, turning the air blue. I wonder where Ben is, watching this, or has he run away, or is he hiding in his room, crying?
�What should we do, Sarge?� Tony asks.
�I�.� I stutter, procedure for dealing with domestics slipping from my mind completely. �Unless�something��
�Yeah�we can�t do anything.� Tony looks despairing.
I look up; jump as I see Ben�s face pressed against his bedroom window. I can see his face is red, the tear tracks. �Ben!� I call, before I even think. �Open the door, let us in!�
He frowns � he hasn�t heard me.
�Ben � let us in!� I mouth the words. He nods dumbly, and disappears from the window.
We�re waiting�just waiting�
Oh my god.
There�s a loud scream, then silence. Utter silence.
I run for the door � slamming my hand against it. �Come ON!� I�m screaming now, my throat sore.
The door opens. It�s not Ben, it�s Marie.
She�s standing in front of me. She�s not crying, or shaking, or�anything. But her hands are covered with blood.
She�s looking up into my eyes.
�I�m sorry.� Her words are barely a whisper. I�m pushing past her, running into the kitchen.
My words escape me. My mouth falls open, dumbly, as I see him there, on the floor, propped up against the cupboards, clutching a tea towel to a wound in his stomach.
�It�s not as bad as it looks.� He says. �Don�t worry, June.�
I laugh. I hear the noise escape from my lips and it sounds alien to me. �Stop it. Alright? Stop worrying about everyone else.�
He nods. I watch as the tears escape, flowing down his cheeks.
It�s only natural for me to take him into my arms. �It�s alright.�
�Is it over?� He asks me, looking up at me, looking for reassurance, looking for the truth.
�Yes, Jim. It�s over.�
***
It was only a flesh wound.
Ten stitches and home.
But he can�t go home. He doesn�t have a home to go to anymore.
Marie has been arrested. They�ve got a doctor in, a psychiatrist, I�ve heard rumours about hormone imbalances, should have been caught years ago� Her past record means she�ll inevitably be convicted � probably sent to a secure hospital for treatment � apparently PMS at it�s worst can be regarded as insanity.
I already know her ex-husband will give evidence against her.
Ben � it�s too early to say. He may go into care, or back to his father. I know for sure that that will hurt Jim a lot � he loves his �kid� as he calls him.
I�m watching him now, as he sits in the canteen, alone, nursing a cup of coffee. I don�t know if he wants to talk, or if he wants to see me, but�
I can�t leave him like this.
I push the door open and approach him, stand by his table in silence until he glances up.
�You alright?� His expression tells me that he knows it�s just a stupid a question as I do.
�In a way I am.� He gestures for me to sit down. �It�s done�it�s over. I don�t have to deal with it any more.�
�I�m not going to ask what she was doing to you.�
He shrugs.
�And I�m not going to say I told you so.�
�You want to though, don�t you. I should have listened to you, June.�
�You�re stubborn, Jim Carver.�
�And I always think I can help. Guess this has taught me sometimes I can�t.� He runs his fingers through his hair. �I should have figured that out years ago.�
�Maybe�maybe not. Marie will be alright, with treatment.�
�I always believed in forgiveness, putting the past behind us�but�� He stirs his coffee aimlessly. �I married the woman I thought Marie was. I married this loving, funny, sweet woman, but for the last few months she�s been�� He sighs. �Maybe, under it all, when she�s better, she will be that Marie again, but I can�t trust her, I can�t put myself through it, take the risk. I�m not strong enough.�
�That�s your decision.�
�You told me once, I was a fool for marrying someone I hardly knew.� He swallows, his eyes again filling with tears. �Why do you always have to be right?�
�I wish I wasn�t�this time I really wish I wasn�t. I just want you to be happy, Jim.�
He nods, picking up his cup and downing his coffee in one. He drops it carefully, deliberately. �June�you know I�ve been drinking.�
�Yeah.�
�I need your help.� He looks up at me with huge eyes, his jaw quivering.
�I�ll be with you every step of the way.� I take his hand. �No strings, just friends��
He nods. �But�don�t give up on me, eh?�
A spark of hope, finally after all the pain.
�I will never � ever � give up on you. I love you.�
I take him into my arms; hold him as he lets out the anger, fear and pain. I stroke his hair; doing everything I can to console him.
And I pray that no-one will ever make me let go.
***
THE END
***
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