Sweet Caroline

By Trish McDee

In a few months time Caroline (Caro) Stapley will be fifty. A few days later she'll have been married to Simeon for thirty years.

It's February. Their friends come for a meal.

So far so normal… until the police turn up to search the house and arrest Simeon.

Life will never seem normal again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trish McDee
• Release date: Dec 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201823825

Trish McDee

Trish McDee was born in Barrow in Furness, Cumbria (it was Lancashire then) and lived there until she left to get married. She now lives in Scotland. She says: Persona Non Grata, is centred around Barrow in Furness. I got my inspiration when researching my family tree. All families have skeletons, and mine was no exception! This book is not an autobiography,though; it's fiction, but I didn't want to waste the information I gleaned from my genealogical pursuit.

Book preview

1

Inside The Beach House, Baycliffe

Saturday lunchtime, February 13th 2016

Caro watched her husband's performance. Simeon had everyone in the room in his thrall, captivated by his charm and eloquence as he entertained with yet another tale, stopping every now and then to ensure he still had their undivided attention.

Bob and Estelle, Marcus and Judith, Quentin and Theresa - friends from forever ago, were putty in his hands even as they were eating the meal she’d cooked for them. Polite acknowledgements of thanks to her were mere asides to his anecdotes.

Caro looked at them all, weighing up what made them tick. Bob and Estelle are a couple that wear matching weekend clothes; jackets and trousers, usually cords. Strange how some couples grew to resemble each other facially, too. Caro moved her eyes to Marcus and Judith – an odd couple in anyone’s eyes. He’s thin with piggy eyes; does something in management, HR, in the yard. Judith works in Asda, the evening shifts. Finally, Quentin and Theresa: Quentin’s lovely! Like a bear. This thought makes Caro smile. He’s taller than me, maybe six foot, but broad; a former rugby player. Theresa is my best friend and I love her. Caro felt her heart glow as she considered how much she and her friend had been through and shared over the years. She took in her friend’s new hairdo, a bob with a fresh colour. With her petite frame she looked a different woman. Fondling her own mousey shoulder-length mane, she felt in need of a revamp. Putting her mood down to the time of year, she felt herself reflecting on her life.

She and Simeon had married young, an almost shotgun wedding before she’d miscarried. More miscarriages followed. Then the final one and what followed meant they'd never be able to have another child. She'd wanted to adopt. He didn't. End of. Since then, they'd just got on with it being just the two of them.

They had a good enough life; she managed his solicitor’s practice, he’d had his musical band, still did – a more mature one now, though. Life was ticking by.

Their friends were here on this chilly February Saturday lunchtime - dining before the boys went to the local football match as they'd no gig tonight - ostensibly, to chat about the big occasions in their life: Caro and Simeon’s forthcoming thirtieth wedding anniversary – in October. She didn't really want them to mention her fiftieth birthday at the beginning of the same month. It rankled a tad, though, that neither were being discussed, but that was him for you: enchanting their minds away from the here and now.

If she was honest, a party for the anniversary was bad enough – the thought of being on show all evening made her squirm – but the idea of a party to celebrate just getting to thirty years almost made her laugh. There had been many times, especially over the past fifteen years at least, when – despite her being a mild-tempered woman – she could've throttled him, no doubt like many married women felt about their spouses. Out of the house he was always a charmer, especially with women, but she knew him inside out. That she’d resolved over the years to choose her arguments was maybe the reason they’d almost reached their pearl anniversary.

Before she knew it the time had passed and the men had gone to the match. The women savoured the warmth of the kitchen. Despite the time of year, Caro’s friends were always keen to sample some of her home-made ice cream. She was adventurous with the flavours and only let her tasters try it when she was satisfied herself. They’d tried them all but she had ideas forming in her mind for new flavours.

‘Right ladies, for dessert we have apple pie with an old favourite: cinnamon ice cream; any takers?’ Caro laughed as three hands went up though Theresa was already walking to the freezer.

She and Theresa made a good duo, one serving the pie, the other scooping the ice cream. As they all tucked in you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Estelle was licking her spoon. ‘Oh Caro, this is gorgeous. Why don’t you do it full-time? You know you want to.’

‘Simeon still thinks it’s a stupid idea, plus it’d cost a packet to set up a proper kitchen and all that.’ Caro's dream was to make ice-cream, but not just to make it: to sell it, via an ice-cream van, serving functions such as weddings, birthday parties and the like. Simeon thought it a daft idea, and never failed to scoff if she mentioned it. He called her The Ice Queen. Quite unsure if there was a sinister undertone, she laughed it off, and thought it a suitable name for her business.

‘You don’t have to do it here; you could do it at the farm. I bet your dad could find a spare barn or something, surely?’

Theresa chirped up. ‘You’ve got loads of recipes and your dad’ll have loads of milk so why not combine the two? You’re mad working in the office when you hate it.’

‘Maybe one day...’ Caro sounded wistful. She caught Theresa’s eye; they smiled at each other. Theresa, of course, knew that Caro had saved her wages for years in order to fund her business, but somehow the timing never seemed right. It wasn’t right now, but her guests didn’t know that.

Surveying the empty bowls, Caro smiled as she prepared coffee. When they were all draining their cups, Caro said, ‘I’ve not told any of you yet, but from Monday I’ll be taking a month off work so I can take Mum to the hospital in Preston.’

There were a few short gasps as they all realised what the implications of going to Preston meant. She continued, ‘She’s got a basal cell carcinoma on her face that needs treatment. Dad wanted to take her, but with the farm and all that, well, it makes sense for me to drive her. She doesn’t want to stay overnight on her own so it’ll be a daily round trip for a month.’

‘Oh love,’ Theresa said in a low voice. ‘Why haven’t you said before?’

Caro shrugged. ‘Mum didn’t want anyone to know, and anyway, when she found out in early December, well she didn’t want to spoil anyone’s Christmas. So like my mother!’ Caro smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

‘How’s your dad taking it?’ Judith asked, knowing exactly what the family would be going through, after losing her own mother the year before to cancer.

‘Oh Judith, I’m sorry, it must be bringing it all back to you.’

‘Don’t worry about me, Caro. I just feel for you, that’s all. Cancer gets to so many of us, in one way or another. Let me know if I can help in any way.’

‘Yes,’ Theresa echoed, ‘I’m here if you need anything. Anything at all, love.’

Estelle said to them all, ‘Oh love, I think after all this your party will be very welcome, despite us not organising a bloody thing today! Forgive us,’ she smiled as she took Caro into her arms. ‘For God’s sake, this is the last thing you need; or your poor Mum.’

Judith interrupted. ‘Why don’t we organise another date purely for making plans? We should be ashamed of ourselves as that was the whole point of coming today. We’ll do better next time, Caro, I promise.’

They spent the next hour or so chatting about a few ideas until the men arrived back, barging in the back door, raucous as ever, raiding the fridge like teenagers despite having been fed a good meal earlier. In a matter of minutes the worktops were filled with cheese and crackers and plates.

Hearing all about the match wasn’t as interesting to the ladies as it was to the men, so Caro led the women to the sitting room. They’d no sooner sat down when the doorbell rang. Caro sighed as she rose to answer it.

A woman surrounded by police officers was brandishing a warrant card in one hand and a search warrant in the other. The latter was thrust into a stunned Caro’s hands.

‘Caroline Stapley?’ Caro nodded. ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Adele Gaunt. I’m looking for your husband, Simeon Stapley. Is he here?’ As she nodded again, the detective seemed to barge in along with her posse. She didn’t need to ask where he was as the men were still as loud, but they all quietened as the detective stood in the doorway, surveying the scene. She looked at each one for a few seconds before, correctly, addressing Simeon. Next to him was Quentin Pardew, a local solicitor who owned a practice with his wife, Theresa. She’d seen them in court many times. A cuddly-looking man with a well-fed look, he was looking at her with a puzzled expression on his face, as were the other two men in the group. One was a weasly-looking man who was swallowing constantly, as if he felt guilty about something even if he wasn’t. She realised that the police can affect some people like that. The last man looked preppy with his spectacles and black-grey short hair. All the men, aside from Simeon Stapley, were wearing corduroy trousers. He was wearing jeans, and a grey sweater. She imagined that as a younger man he may have been a bit of a heart-throb; heartbreaker, probably.

DCI Gaunt’s eyes narrowed as she spoke to Simeon Stapley. ‘Simeon Stapley, I’m arresting you...’ All eyes were on them. ‘... Twenty-five years ago, on February 14th 1991...’

Simultaneously as the DI was reading him his rights Simeon had jumped up from the table protesting at her words. She ignored him and he was handcuffed and pushed out of the kitchen door to one of the many police cars outside.

‘There’s no need for cuffs, for crying out loud,’ he protested as he was led away.

Quentin had heard what he was being arrested for, but couldn’t quite believe it. Nonetheless, he knew he’d have to remain calm for the others, especially Caro, who was looking pole-axed.

Caro had stood watching her husband being arrested, not hearing anything, just a whooshing noise in her ears. She felt overwhelmed, that this wasn’t really happening. She’d seen the DCI’s mouth move but not heard a word of what she’d accused Simeon of. Then, utter chaos seemed to take over. Caro and her friends watched as Simeon’s computer and so many bags of various documents were taken from her home; she felt there couldn’t have been much left inside his home office.

Caro gasped as she saw a policeman pick up her laptop. ‘No!’ she shouted. ‘That’s mine not Simeon’s. Put it down.’

DCI Gaunt waved the officer on with what he was doing as she turned to Caro. ‘Mrs Stapley, I’m sorry for what’s happening but we have our job to do. We’ll return the laptop as soon as we can.’

Caro was raging. ‘Simeon never uses it; it’s mine. He’s got his own, that your people have already taken. Why d’you need mine? Tell me.’

DCI Gaunt was trying to be patient. ‘Have you ever left your husband alone in this house?’

‘Of course I have; don’t be obtuse.’

‘Then you have to accept that he could’ve used your laptop anytime he liked, couldn’t he?’

‘Technically, yes of course, but...’

‘There’s no but about it, Mrs Stapley. He could’ve used it without your knowledge, and it’s for that reason we have to take it away for examination.’

‘Examination for what, though? I don’t understand.’

‘For reasons in line with our investigation.’ DCI Gaunt then turned to all of Simeon and Caro’s friends. ‘Will you please give your names and addresses to one of the officers...’ she turned to one, allocating him the task, ‘... and we’ll be in touch with you as soon as we can.’

‘Why d’you need our friends’ details?’ Caro asked.

Realising that Mrs Stapley was rather naïve, she smiled, lowered her voice and told her, ‘Everyone who knows your husband, and especially those who’ve known him a long time, are useful to the case.’

‘How long will you keep him?’ Caro knew she sounded surly but couldn’t help herself.

‘As long as it takes, Mrs Stapley; as long as it takes.’ DCI Gaunt turned and walked out, leaving Caro and her friends gawping after her. The other officers were going through everything, or it felt like it. All they could do was sit and watch, hoping it would soon be over.

Once the police had left, Theresa, Judith and Estelle with their husbands began helping put things back in drawers and cupboards, tried to restore some kind of order.

‘I feel defiled,’ Caro told them. ‘I don’t get it, who’s he supposed to have assaulted twenty-five years ago, Quentin?’

‘She mentioned a name but it didn’t mean anything to me. Nadine Starkie. Have you heard of her?’

Caro shook her head. ‘So, what else did she say? Please tell me.’

‘That over a period of months, Simeon had groomed her then...’ he took a deep breath; he felt awful to have to relay this, ‘then had sex with her.’

‘Groomed? So she was a young girl?’ her eyes were wide in horror. ‘How young?’

‘A teenager but I don’t know how exactly.’

‘Oh God,’ she whispered, ‘Simeon, what have you done?’ Then something occurred to her. ‘But surely there’s no proof, not after all this time – I don’t mean it wasn’t wrong – of course it was. Dear God, this is a nightmare.’

Quentin gathered her in his arms and sat her down. ‘Caro sweetheart, listen to me. You mentioned proof. There is some proof. Nadine became pregnant with Simeon’s child. She has a son.’

‘A son? Twenty-five years ago?’ her brain was ticking over. ‘I can’t recall where...’ As if things were suddenly clicking into place, she looked aghast at Quentin. ‘Please don’t let it be when I was in hospital. None of this is good, but bloody hell, don’t let it be then.’

‘I don’t know, love, but I’m sure we’ll find out when the police have finished with him.’

Everyone was sitting in a shocked silence; all that could be heard was whoever swallowed or gulped, all thinking their own thoughts, but Caro suddenly broke the silence. ‘Did any of you know what he was getting up to?’ They all shook their heads. Marcus looked as if he was about to weep. He was Simeon’s oldest friend, from childhood, so she could understand his woe.

Caro went upstairs and from what could be heard downstairs, she was sorting through drawers. They all looked surprised when she reappeared with a weekend case. She walked past them and placed it on the floor in the sitting room. Not a word was spoken or needed.

Just after midnight Caro’s phone rang. It was the police station saying Simeon was being bailed and would she collect him.

‘No. Tell him to call a taxi. Please.’

Quentin and Theresa were still with her – like Caro and Simeon, they didn’t have children; the others had had reasons to go home, Marcus and Judith had been the first to leave.

Quentin stood up. ‘I’ll prepare some coffee, shall I?’ The two women nodded. None of them knew what to do now, or expect.

Theresa, sitting beside Caro on the sofa, took hold of one of her hands. ‘You know you can call me anytime, don’t you? I can’t imagine how you’ll work through this, or even if you want to. Don’t be rushed into making any decisions. Okay?’

Caro nodded. ‘I won’t be pushed about anymore, I can tell you. My head’s full of all sorts of stuff, which is only natural after the shock we’ve had, but I know this: I cannot have him living here. He’ll have to go to his parents’ house. I don’t want him near me. You know, over the years I’ve had my suspicions about him, with other women – oh, I’ve seen him flirting so taking it to the next level wouldn’t have shocked me, but a girl! How could he stoop so low? A child, for goodness sake! Worse than that, he’d planned to seduce her when I was... fragile,’ she whispered, remembering that awful time. ‘How could he?’

‘I don’t know, love,’ Theresa held her, fighting back her own tears at the memories she knew were coursing through Caro‘s mind right now but wishing Caro could at least cry - she hadn’t cried since the time she’d just alluded to.

Quentin put two mugs of coffee on the table in front of them. Caro half-smiled at him.

She was in the downstairs cloakroom when the taxi pulled up outside. Having no keys on him, Simeon had to ring the bell. Quentin let him in but didn’t speak to him.

Caro entered the kitchen at the same time as he did. ‘So, got it all off your chest now? Told them what you’ve done, have you? God you make me sick.’

‘For Christ’s sake, Caro, don’t you think I’ve been through enough tonight?’ He poured himself a large glass of red wine and glugged most of it then refilled the glass.

‘What! You’ve been through enough? Me, me, me, that’s all it is with you, isn’t it? Always has been. Well not anymore. I want you out of this house and out of my life - tonight!’

‘Don’t be hasty...’

‘Hasty? I think in light of this revelation, it’s long overdue. You’re no better than a pervert. Like bloody Saville...’

Simeon was furious; his face turned puce. He yelled: ‘Don’t you ever label me with the likes of him!’

‘Why ever not? You’re out of the same mould, the pair of you. The only difference is: you’ve got a son to show for it. How could you?’

'I... I... didn’t mean for it to happen...’

‘Her getting pregnant, you mean? No, I bet you didn’t, but because you were careless she did, so you’ve no escape from what you’ve done, Simeon. How long did you groom her for?’ Caro’s voice was calmer now, but she was still angry.

‘I didn’t groom her! She was just... there. I will fight this, Caro. I will and I will win. We don’t know that her child is mine. We’ll sort this mess out, believe me.’

Turning to face her husband Caro looked at him, then at their friends, before saying in a clear, quiet voice, ‘No, Simeon, there’s nothing for us to sort out. It’s your problem. You cheated on me, for no reason other than you could. I can’t forgive that. From now on you’re on your own. As this is my family's house, I want you to leave it. I've already packed an overnight bag for you.’

Flustered and shocked, Simeon said, ‘What? But... but...’

Holding up a hand almost in front of his face she told him, ‘No buts, Simeon. Just pick up the bag and go.’

‘Go where?’ he shouted. He really didn’t know what to make of this new Caro talking to him like this. ‘You’re my wife! Your duty is to support me, through thick and thin, so let’s stop all this nonsense about me going anywhere, eh?’

‘I don’t care where, just go. I've told you, I've packed a bag for you,' she nodded to where it was. His eyes glanced at it then went back to her face. 'And leave your keys for this house before you do.’

He began sneering and snarling. ‘Oh yeah, not only are you married to a solicitor, I have rights, and that means half this house, sweetheart.’

‘I also have rights, sweetheart, and you know fine well that when my parents bought this house for us, my dad insisted that you always behave well towards me, and you agreed. You haven’t.’

‘Huh, a gentleman’s agreement isn’t worth the paper it isn’t written on, as well you know, or have you learned nothing from working in my practice all these years?’

Caro closed her eyes but opened them wide when she heard a thwacking noise. Quentin had punched Simeon, on the nose judging by the amount of blood pouring from it. As Simeon reeled across the floor, it looked as if Quentin may strike again.

Quentin, his voice bitter, said, 'You sicken me.' His fist was jabbing towards Simeon.

Caro put a hand on his arm, saying, 'No, Quentin, I think Simeon’s learnt his lesson and will want to leave now. The police have taken your computer and loads of paperwork, but I'll put your goods and chattels in the den so you can take them to your mother’s home. At least she’ll be pleased to see you... until she finds out why. But that’s your problem.’

She walked across the room, and began fiddling with his key ring. ‘Your car keys are on the dresser. Pick them up and leave.’

Determined to have the last word, like always, Simeon shouted, ‘You’ve won zilch, Caro. All the years I’ve stayed with you count for nothing, eh? We’ll see about that.’

'You're making it sound like you've been doing me a favour. Was ours a marriage of convenience, so you could play around, Simeon? Was I a handy appendage to save you committing yourself to somebody else, somebody younger?'

'No,' he wailed, 'I loved you, I still love you. I don't want anybody else.' Simeon was openly weeping.

Caro's face didn't react to his tears; she remained poker faced. 'That's easy to say when you've been found out. It sounds good to you, does it, that you don't want anybody but me? But twenty-five years ago you couldn't give a damn about me, what I was going through. No wonder you practically ran out of the hospital, when you had a nubile young body to turn you on. I'm amazed you've managed to live with me all these years.'

'I didn't... I had a gig, you know I did. Jeez, you're still cool and collected despite what's happened here tonight. You're still the frozen bloody ice queen, aren't you? Living in the past - no emotion left in your body; it's all been spent on dead babies.' Caro's face paled at his words.

'Simeon, stop it! I think you should leave now.' Theresa said; her voice calm.

‘Oh do you, Mother Theresa?’ he mocked her.

She held Quentin back as he tried to get to Simeon again.

Theresa was smarting a bit. His words were cruel. He knew that she and Quentin couldn’t have the much-wanted family they’d assumed they’d have - just like him and Caro - the bastard.

His eyes glaring at all of them, blood all over his shirt, Simeon snatched his car keys, picked up the bag and flounced through the house, slamming the door behind him.

The roar of his car, as he drove at speed down the lane made Caro shudder.

Caro said, ‘I dread to think how much he’s drank today. Surely he’s well over the limit?’

Quentin wrapped an arm around her shoulders, telling her, ‘Let’s hope our luck’s in and he’s either wrapped around a tree down the road or nicked... again. Either one would make my weekend.’

Caro looked like she was in a stupor. ‘I can’t believe the last thirty years have come to this.’ She shook her head. ‘How on earth could I have been such a fool?’

‘Because you saw what you wanted to see, darling.’ Theresa said, blunt but not unkindly. ‘You loved him so much and he abused it.’

Something occurred to Caro. She looked at her friends. ‘I know I asked this earlier, but did you all know what he was like? Please be honest with me.’

Theresa took Caro’s hands and looked her in the eye. ‘No, we didn’t. And that’s the truth. We all know what a show off he is, but he always has been. He’s always talked about you as if you were the love of his life – and why shouldn’t he? You are! No matter what he’s done, you are, Caro.’ At the sight of Caro’s grimacing face she went on, ‘Listen to me. Yes, he’s a cocky sod, but he’s always known you were here to come back to. Why else has he never left you for whichever floozy?’

Noticing Quentin sitting quietly in a chair, Caro told him, ‘I’m sorry, this must be tedious for you. Get yourselves home.’

Theresa told her, ‘No, I’m not leaving you alone. Should we ring your mother?’

Her eyes widening, Caro said, ‘No, I'll go and see them in the morning. Christ, I think they've got enough on their plates without this.'

Theresa nodded to Quentin, saying, ‘Why don’t you go home and I’ll stay here tonight. I can’t leave her alone.’

Caro shook her head. 'No, honestly, I'll be fine, though could I ask just one more favour?' Theresa nodded. 'I'd like to pack his stuff up so he won't have to come back inside and do it. Would you help me pack up his clothes and bits?’

‘Course I will. Come on, where d'you keep the luggage?’

As they worked, Theresa emptying Simeon’s side of the wardrobe, Caro emptying his tallboy, each folding the clothes neatly, Theresa broke the silence, repeating what she'd said earlier. ‘Y’know, you don’t have to rush into anything, make any hasty decisions...’

‘I know,’ Caro said, interrupting. ‘The thing is: our entire marriage has turned out to be a sham, Theresa. He’s messed around then come home to me. He could’ve given me any damn thing. He’s been totally selfish. All the years I’ve gone along with what he wanted; just to keep him happy. That’s what really hurts.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘I wanted us to adopt. He wouldn’t hear of it. All those kids just crying out to be loved, but no, if he couldn’t have his own he didn’t want anybody else’s cast offs – that’s what he said; the bastard!’

Theresa had never heard bitterness in Caro’s voice, ever. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. You would’ve made a lovely mum but somehow I can’t imagine Simeon as a father. Oh that’s a daft thing to say when he clearly is!’

Caro shook her head. ‘He’s a sperm donor, Theresa. He wouldn’t know the first thing about being a father. You have to earn that title; deserve it – and he’s incapable of it.’ Caro then removed her wedding ring and almost threw it into the dressing table drawer.

Theresa looked at her in a new light. Maybe Caro was going to be just fine after all.

2

Westfield Farm

Caro’s parents, Jeremy and Olga Cross, were understanding people, always keen to see the good in everyone. Or at least they were. Today, her father was furious and wanted to jump in his car and drive to Simeon’s mother’s house. Only her mother stopped him.

‘Don’t be such a fool, Jez! He’d love that, you turning up and smacking him one. Don’t you think our lass’s got enough to deal with without you getting yourself arrested? Stop being ridiculous and get over yourself.’

Having to tell your ageing parents of your husband’s proclivities must rank as one of life's most hideous tasks. Especially with what was going on with her mum. Now that she'd told them, Caro felt the need for fresh air. For someone who hadn’t cried for a long time she’d more than made up for it after seeing her parents’ faces as she imparted her news. Releasing herself from her mother’s clasp, she sat up, dried her eyes then stood up.

‘I think I’ll go for a walk on the beach,’ she told her anxious mother.

‘Should I come with you, lass?’

She shook her head in response. ‘I need to clear my head, Mum. After what I learned last night, my head feels stuffed; I need to make sense of