Into the Darkest Corner

  MR JUSTICE MCCANN Mr Nicholson, my feelings on the matter are that if Miss Bartlett gave a second statement which provided an explanation of why she was untruthful in the first, then that too should be put before the jury.

  MR NICHOLSON Very well.

  MR JUSTICE MCCANN Thank you, would you please call the jury back? We will continue where we left off.

  Sunday 23 May 2010

  Sam Hollands was waiting for me outside.

  ‘Morning,’ she said, as I slid into the passenger seat. ‘Nice day for a mystery tour. Where did you say we’re going?’

  ‘St Albans.’

  We drove off towards the main road.

  ‘I’m really grateful for this. I know you’ve probably got better things to do on your day off, Sam.’

  ‘Tell me again. You got a letter?’

  It had been waiting for me when I got home from the shops yesterday. Nothing at all to indicate the nasty surprise that it contained – an ordinary envelope, my name and address typed on the outside, a first-class stamp, a smudged postmark. I read it out to Sam.

  Dear Catherine

  I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about everything that happened. I’m sorry for lots of things and I have a gift for you which I hope might make things better.

  You need to go to the Farley Road industrial estate to the north of St Albans. Unit 23 is right at the northern end of it. If you park in front of the unit you should be able to walk around the side of the building. At the back is an open space with trees. Follow the line of trees to the end and you’ll find what I’ve left for you.

  I hope you will do this last thing for me and take it as my way of saying sorry.

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It just seems like an abrupt way of ending a letter. You know, people who start a letter with “Dear Whoever” usually end it with “love from Whoever”, don’t they?’

  We were on the M1, heading towards the M25. The traffic on the other side of the motorway flashed past us. I bit my lip.

  ‘Cathy…?’

  ‘There are a few more sentences on another page. It’s personal stuff.’

  ‘What sort of personal stuff?’

  ‘It’s nothing that will make any difference. Really.’

  ‘Cathy. This isn’t just a letter, it’s evidence. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Let’s wait and see what this is all about, shall we? It might be something really silly.’

  ‘What does Stuart make of it all?’

  ‘He’s away for a couple of days. Gone to a big new hospital in Belgium for a conference.’

  She kept her eyes straight ahead and expressed her disapproval through the firm line of her mouth. I would end up showing her the letter anyway; I’d have to. But just for now I wanted to keep it between me and him.

  ‘What do you think it is?’ Sam asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think it’s anything good, put it like that.’

  ‘Me neither. I’m glad you rang me.’

  ‘I wondered if it was a trap.’

  ‘Well, he’s still safely inside, so you don’t need to worry about him being there to meet us. I rang the prison this morning.’

  ‘It’s not a prison letter,’ I said.

  ‘I noticed. He must have got someone to smuggle it out for him. Whatever happens, I’ll be putting in an intelligence report about that.’

  We turned off the motorway and listened to Sam’s satellite navigation telling us in a calm voice to take the next turning left, right, continue straight for two point four miles.

  ‘So how’s Stuart?’

  ‘He’s fine. We’re fine.’

  ‘What’s it like being married?’

  I laughed. ‘Not much different from how it was before. Anyway, it’s only been five months, give us a chance.’

  ‘No babies yet?’

  ‘Not yet. Don’t tell me you’re feeling broody?’

  ‘I’m not, but Jo is. We’re going to get married next year, I think.’

  ‘Sam, you never said.’

  ‘Well, we’ve been together ten years. It’s about time.’

  ‘Have you asked her?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘You should get on and do it. It’s worth it. Can we come to the wedding?’

  ‘Of course you can. I was going to ask Sylvia, too.’

  ‘She’d love it.’

  ‘Anyway, we’re here.’

  The Farley Industrial Estate was deserted, long wide streets empty of traffic, litter blowing across the pot-holed roads. We passed a kebab van, shutters down. Half the units were unoccupied, the whole area had a sense of desolation, and Unit 23 was no exception. It was as far as you could go, round a final corner. It was like the end of the world.

  Sam parked the car in front of it.

  ‘Round there, look.’

  Amidst the weeds growing around the building, a narrow dusty path twisted off between the chainlink fence and the wall of the unit. Stinging nettles grew to chest height, swaying towards us in the breeze.

  Sam went first, weaving her way along the path, one hand on the wall of the unit. A rabbit scuttled across the path in front of us and made me jump.

  Behind the unit the narrow space suddenly widened into a patch of wasteland. We walked across a large expanse of concrete, weeds growing up through the cracks. The sun shone over our heads and a bird sang from somewhere high up. It was completely deserted, not a person anywhere in sight.

  ‘Now where?’

  I shaded my eyes from the sun and looked around, towards the trees he’d described, and saw it, a flash of colour in a landscape of grey and brown and green.

  ‘There. See it?’

  It was a patch of red, scarlet, like a flag, and as we got closer it fluttered at us as though it were alive. I already knew what it was but it was still a shock to see it. I felt the tears start in my eyes and they were falling before I could stop them. It was like seeing an old friend, and a nightmare.

  ‘What is it?’ Sam said.

  ‘It’s my dress.’

  The edges of it were ragged, and it was dusty and filthy, but I still recognised it. All of the buttons had gone from it, and sections of it had been cut out, leaving the bare edges to fray and catch the wind. It must have been here for some time.

  ‘That’s it? Just an old dress?’

  It was anchored to the rocky soil by an old spade, rusted, which had been placed across it, and a heap of stones which had been laid over the top, like a cairn, like a grave.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s a marker.’

  She saw it just a few moments after I did. At the bottom of the ditch, the movement caught my eye as the wind blew against a hank of dark hair. At first it looked artificial, like frayed hessian, and the skin like old canvas. And then the sudden whiteness of the broken bone, and there was no confusion any more.

  ‘Oh, shit, shit.’ Sam grabbed her mobile and started phoning, calling for back-up, and I sank to my knees amidst the dry soil and the stones, and stroked my fingers against the softness of the fabric for comfort.

  ‘I think she’s called Naomi,’ I said.

  From the back pocket of my jeans I pulled out the second page of the letter.

  ‘Sam. You’d better look at this.’

  I’m sorry for what I did to Sylvia, and to the old woman who lived in the flat downstairs. They meant nothing to me other than as a means to find you. You should realise that nobody and nothing can ever stop me from finding you, Catherine. I’ve left you this gift as a sign that I am prepared to take the blame for everything. But it won’t stop me. However long it takes, I will wait for you. One day I will be free, and I will find you and we can be together.

  Wait for me, Catherine.

  I love you.

  Lee

  AFTERWORD :

  About the Book

  About Writing

  ABOUT THE BOOK :

  How did you begin w
riting the book?

  Believe it or not, it was a dream: I dreamed that there was a man who I knew was bad, and nobody believed me. All my friends were falling for him and the more I tried to tell them he was nasty the more they accused me of being petty and mean. I woke up thinking about what a terrible thing it is to not be believed, to the extent that you even doubt yourself.

  How long did it take to write?

  I wrote the first draft of about 60,000 words in November 2008.

  What encouraged you along the way?

  The original draft was written as part of National Novel Writing Month, which is an annual challenge to write a 50,000-word novel during the month of November. Nano, as it’s called, is an experience shared with hundreds of thousands of other participants around the world and so it’s very different from the usual way of writing a book. During November I’m afraid I also become a Nano bore, and I try to find subtle and creative ways of bringing my story into every conversation. Luckily I have some very patient friends.

  How did you decide on the structure of the novel?

  The structure was mainly to help prevent boredom and writer’s block. It’s very useful to have two stories on the go – if you’re bored with one, you just move on to the other.

  How did you develop your characters?

  Once I’ve found each character’s ‘voice’, they almost develop themselves. After a while they become real people to me, and then they just pester me to tell their stories. I do get a sense of disquiet if I’m heading in the wrong direction with one of them. People are often surprising, even imaginary ones.

  Did you know how the novel would end when you began it?

  No. Writing a novel, just like reading it, isn’t nearly as much fun if you know the ending in advance.

  What was most challenging about writing the novel?

  The scenes where Lee is holding Catherine in her spare room were difficult to write. Amongst all the violence it was important to me to try to describe how Catherine’s mood changes from anger to hope to despair, and finally acceptance of her fate. Having built up a strange kind of relationship with these characters, it’s hard to put them through such a terrible experience.

  Are any of the characters based on people you have known?

  Not directly. Some of them have characteristics of people I know, of course, and physically some of them may bear a passing resemblance to real people. Some of my friends suggested names for characters, including my friend Naomi, who wanted the dubious honour of being ‘first corpse’.

  Did you have concerns about fictionalising real people?

  I never thought for one minute that my writing would ever be published, so at the time of writing I had no concerns at all. Of course, now I’m thinking that maybe I’ll have fewer friends once people read the book.

  Which of your characters did you most enjoy writing?

  Probably Sylvia. In an earlier draft, Sylvia didn’t survive her final encounter with Lee and she ended up in same place as Naomi. My friend Vanessa suggested she was too good a character for such a fate, so, thanks to her, Sylvia was spared. Since then I’ve grown fonder of Sylvia and, having written the final courtroom transcript, I think it would have been interesting to have heard the whole story from Sylvia’s point of view.

  Did you feel a responsibility to get the details of what happens in the novel right, for example representing OCD a certain way?

  Yes. OCD is a condition that takes many different forms and I don’t think any two experiences of it will be the same. I’m lucky to have a very good friend from university days, Alexia, who is a consultant clinical psychologist. She was able to suggest some useful books to read, two of which I would particularly recommend to anyone who would like further information about OCD: Overcoming Obsessive Compulsive Disorder by David Veale and Rob Willson, which provides a useful insight into treatment options; and The Boy Who Couldn’t Stop Washing by Judith L. Rapoport, which tells the stories of a number of people of all ages with OCD of various kinds.

  Do you think the novel is political – particularly in the way it presents relationships?

  Since writing Into the Darkest Corner I’ve become very aware of stories in the media about domestic abuse, and more significantly the horrific cases where men, women and children have been either killed or seriously injured by ex-partners. It does sometimes seem inappropriate to be writing a fictional story about something that is real, and which in fact is happening to real people right now. I would hate anyone to feel that this story trivialises what is such a tragic subject. I hope readers who have no personal experience of domestic abuse could take from it that such things do happen, and for too many victims of violence in the home there really is no easy escape.

  How easy did you find creating a sense of suspense, and also maintaining it?

  I didn’t have the whole story mapped out from the start, so a lot of the twists and turns were a surprise to me when they came along. Every time poor Catherine started to relax or feel safe, I’d ask myself ‘what’s the worst thing that could happen to her?’ and then just see how she’d react to it. Some bits of it gave me goosebumps, and those bits mainly stayed in.

  Was the decision to write from Catherine’s point of view an easy one?

  I felt Catherine had the best story to tell. That said, it would be interesting to hear the same story from Lee’s side, or maybe, as I said earlier, from Sylvia’s, wouldn’t it?

  Did you want Lee to be a sympathetic character in some respects?

  I wanted the reader to be able to see why Catherine fell for Lee in the first place. As well as being cruel and manipulative, he himself is damaged and has an element of vulnerability. From his point of view all his actions are motivated by his love for Naomi, and then for Catherine. What he does to Catherine is inexcusable, but like many violent people he is a victim too, at least in part: a product of the betrayals of his past.

  What’s your view on happy endings?

  Happy endings in real life are quite rare, aren’t they? Even when matters are successfully resolved, the people concerned are usually permanently affected in some way by traumatic events. A novel is like having a little window into the characters’ lives for a limited period of time: so whilst it’s important to be able have an ending, it’s also important to believe the characters will carry on with their lives in private, even though the reader is no longer able to observe them.

  Why did you decide to incorporate court transcripts into the book?

  Having completed the first draft, I wrote the first transcript as a writing exercise to see if it was feasible that Lee could talk his way out of attempted murder. After that, the second transcript provided a lovely sense of balance; at the start, Lee is the one in control while Catherine is absent because of her breakdown; at the end, Sylvia is able to redeem herself and Lee is the one silenced. Of course, he ends up getting the final word in…

  How has your professional life shaped the books you write?

  I work as an intelligence analyst for the police, a job that I feel has been sadly overlooked by crime writers! It’s a civilian role which involves analysing crime and intelligence in order to determine patterns in offending and criminal behaviour, which can then be used to direct resources effectively. It’s the ideal job for a writer, because it requires a degree of creativity, the ability to think beyond the available intelligence to ask the eternal question, ‘what if…?’ I’ve learned many things through my job, including that individuals often behave in the most unexpected ways; that things you’re told can’t always be relied upon; and that two apparently honest and trustworthy people may have completely different interpretations of the same situation or conversation.

  ABOUT WRITING :

  Where do you write?

  If I’m alone in the house, then I write in the spare room in my pyjamas with a flask of tea for company. If not, I’ll put some proper clothes on and take the laptop and write in a coffee shop – Caffè Nero in Maidstone is a particular favourit
e since the lovely baristas let me sit there all day. It’s also endlessly intriguing, coffee shop culture, and I can pick up some brilliant conversation snippets and ideas that I would otherwise miss.

  Why do you write?

  It’s a bit like breathing for me. I have to write otherwise after a while I start to feel suffocated.

  Do you have any writing rituals?

  Hotel Chocolat Chocolate Gemstones. One bag per November.

  Who or what inspires you?

  I’m always clipping things out of the weekend papers. I have files full of stories about people and situations that have sparked off some idea or theme I’ll probably never write about, but every so often I’ll go back through them and see if anything leaps out.

  Do you listen to music as you write? If so, do you have a favourite piece to write to?

  I have a different soundtrack for each novel. The first draft of Into the Darkest Corner was written to the sound of Ben’s Brother, Damien Rice and Cherry Ghost. Stuart and Cathy’s relationship was inspired in part by the song ‘Allelujah’ by Fairground Attraction. When the editing process began, I was listening to a lot of Ludovico Einaudi, and Nightbook in particular. For me, each track of that brilliant album is now associated with a different scene from the book.

  Do you revise and edit your work as you go?

  No. Writing and editing at the same time is like trying to drive a fast car with the handbrake on.

  What tips would you give aspiring writers?

  Writing can be very personal, and if your aim is to have your writing published, then share it as much as you can: go on creative writing courses, join a writers’ group, find writing websites where you can chat to other writers and share ideas. I think sharing your work can be scary at first, but that’s a good sign because it’s important that you care about your characters and situations. Be open to suggestions from others about how to improve. Carry a notebook everywhere so you can note ideas as soon as they come to you. Oh – and definitely try National Novel Writing Month, it’s a blast.