it would take for the tiny track to disappear. That would mark a big step towards her emancipation.
‘Well, Mark was very fussy, obsessive, really. I wasn’t allowed to wear jeans or trousers, only skirts. Every minute of my day was more or less accounted for; there was very little time for free choice. I could decide what route to take to the supermarket or what veg to prepare for supper, but that was pretty much it. How and where I stored the groceries, when I served dinner, these things were all prescribed. I had to complete a round of chores every day, often pointless and repetitive chores that were designed to exhaust me and break my spirit…’
Roland pinched his eye sockets with his thumb and forefinger. He could just picture those words being repeated in court: ‘I killed my husband because he was a little bit fussy, preferring me in skirts. And I had to do household chores.’ Jesus, if she got away with it, most of the women in the country would have justification. He hoped she had something better than that.
‘At the end of every day, we would climb the stairs together. With only a plaster wall between me and my children, I would kneel at the foot of our bed and Mark would allocate me points according to how badly he thought I had executed the chores that day. Extra points would be added if I had done anything to irritate or anger him.’
She had his attention.
‘These points would be on a scale of one to ten and depending on how badly I had scored – ten being bad – would determine what came next.’
Kathryn’s tears snaked their way into the waiting square of kitchen roll. Her breath stuttered in her throat, her distress as much for the shame in telling as for the memory of the events.
‘Points?’
Roland shook his head. Kathryn couldn’t gauge whether this was in pity or disbelief.
‘Yes. And then he would hurt me.’
This she whispered. Roland strained to hear.
‘How long had he been doing this to you, Kathryn?’
She coughed, collected herself and continued quite brightly, as if she could fool herself that all was well.
‘Well, looking back, I can see that I was bullied from the moment we met. It was little things at first: criticising the clothes I wore, the way I styled my hair, and disliking all of my friends. He put a halt to my career as an English teacher, which was a shame. He broke or threw away anything that I had owned prior to meeting him, monitored my calls, that sort of thing. I was slowly alienated from my family. All his actions were designed to destabilise me and make me more dependent on him, cutting off all my allies and destroying my self-esteem so that when he started the real abuse I was already a victim and quite alone. I had become unable to confidently make a decision, such was my confusion. I had no voice. At least that’s how it felt.’
‘And what you term as “real abuse” – how long had that been going on?’
‘Oh, let me see… since I was pregnant with Dominic.’
‘Who is now sixteen?’
‘Yes, that’s right, although it doesn’t seem possible! Sixteen… it goes so quickly, doesn’t it? You must find that with Sophie. Sometimes I feel as if I was chasing a chubby toddler around the house, then turned my back for a second to find he’s suddenly become this invincible life force, “a teenager”. Sorry, Roland, I’m going off-piste a little, aren’t I?’
She watched his expression, understood his predicament. Kathryn knew that it didn’t sound plausible; it sounded completely bonkers that she had been talking about Mark Brooker, the headmaster! She knew that Roland and every other parent would only ever be able to picture Mark offering a firm handshake and a clever quip. They would all agree that the whole affair was most shocking. What would Mark’s PA, Judith, make of it all? Kathryn smiled to herself as she considered the woman’s reaction, she could just imagine her statement: ‘Mark didn’t look like a nasty man, in fact he was quite gorgeous…’
Kathryn hoped that in time and once all the facts had been revealed, people would ask themselves one important question: if her life had been as perfect as Roland and everyone had thought, why would she have done it? Why would she fabricate the whole nightmare and then ask for punishment if it weren’t true? Unless she was crazy,