how can I make you understand?”
“We’re listening.” Susan watched Banks nibble at his pizza out of the corner of her eye. “What happened? Will you tell us?”
Michelle gulped a little more wine, looked at her, then nodded. When she spoke, she looked back and forth between the two of them. “All right. Yes. I’d been out late with a friend. Owen was waiting up for me. And he’d been drinking.”
“Did he usually drink much?” Banks asked.
Michelle speared some linguine and twisted it on her fork. “No, not usually, though he had been doing more lately. Especially if he was brooding about something, which he always seemed to be. Anyway, I could definitely smell the whisky on his breath that night.”
Banks sipped his red wine. It tasted watery. “Had you been drinking much, too?” he asked.
“Only a couple of glasses of wine.”
Banks nodded. “What happened next?”
“He started calling me terrible names and accusing me of all kinds of disgusting things and then he…he…”
“He what, Michelle?”
“Oh, bugger it. Get it out, Michelle.” She took a deep breath and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. “He tried to force himself on me, that’s what he did.”
“He tried to rape you?”
“Yes. He tried to rape me.” She wasn’t crying, but her eyes glittered with anger.
“Was this the first time he had ever tried such a thing?”
“Of course it was. Do you think I’d willingly stay a moment longer than I had to with anyone who did that to me?” She hadn’t finished her meal, but she pushed her plate aside and sipped some more wine.
“I don’t know what your situation was,” Banks said. “Sometimes people, women especially, get stuck in abusive situations. They don’t know what to do.”
“Yes, well, not me. I’m not like that. Oh, I’d done my best, tried to please him, given in to his…but it was getting impossible. I was at my wits’ end. His demands were getting too much for me. This was the last straw. And I was especially upset by the names he called me and the dirty things he accused me of.”
“So you resisted him?”
“Yes. I thought it was awful that someone would say such horrible things to me, call me such vile names and then want to do it to me…you know…like animals.”
“Did you struggle?”
Michelle nodded.
“Then what happened?”
“It’s not very clear after that. I know he hit me at least once and then everything went dark.”
“He hit you when you refused to have sex with him?”
“Yes. I just remember falling and my head hurting and everything going dark for…I don’t know…maybe only a few seconds.”
“What happened next?”
“I felt his hands around my neck.”
“Owen was trying to strangle you?”
“Yes. He had his hands on my throat and he was pressing.”
“How did you stop him?”
“I didn’t. I hadn’t the strength. I must have passed out again.”
“Then what?”
“I woke up. It was light, early morning, and I was still on the floor, where I’d fallen. I felt all stiff and my head hurt. My clothes were torn. I had an awful headache.”
“Where was Owen?”
“He was in bed asleep, or passed out. I heard him snoring and went to look.”
“Had he interfered with you sexually in any way?”
“Yes. I think he’d had sex with me.”
“You can’t be certain?”
“No. I wasn’t conscious. But I’m pretty sure he had.”
“How did you know?”
She looked directly at Banks. He couldn’t detect any strong emotion in her eyes now, despite the events she was relating. She wasn’t exactly being cold and clinical about it all, but she wasn’t overly agitated, either. The few remaining diners would never have guessed what horrors the trio near the window were talking about.
“A woman can tell about those things,” she said, then she turned to Susan. “I felt sore…you know…down there.”
Susan nodded and touched her arm.
Banks finished his pizza and looked around to see if anyone was smoking. Miraculously, one or two people were. The restaurant had quietened down a lot, and when Banks beckoned the waiter to bring him an ashtray, he did.
“What did you do next?” Banks asked Michelle.
“I packed up my things, what little I had, and I left.”
“Where did you go?”
“I just walked and walked. I had nowhere to go. At least it was summer. And it wasn’t raining. I remember sleeping in the sun in a park.”
“And that night?”
“I tried to sleep at the railway station, but the police kept moving me on. I went in shop doorways, wherever I could find shelter. I was scared.”
“And the next day?”
“I swallowed my pride, went back to my parents and faced the music. A month later I got the job down here.”
“What did you tell them?” Susan asked.
“I couldn’t tell them the truth, could I? I was too ashamed. I couldn’t tell anyone that. I made up a story about just not, you know, being happy with Owen, and they believed it. It was what they wanted to hear. They’d only met him once and didn’t like him anyway. Thought he was too old for me. All I had to do was tell them what they wanted to hear and eat enough crow. They always believed what I told them.”
“Why didn’t you report the incident to the police?” Banks asked.
“I told you. I was too ashamed. I’m sure Detective Constable Gay will understand that.”
Susan nodded. “Yes.”
“Oh, I know what I should have done,” Michelle went on. “Especially now, after what’s happened to that poor schoolgirl. In a way, I feel terribly guilty, almost responsible. But you can’t really predict what a person will do, can you, how far he will go? I knew Owen was a bit unbalanced, that he could be dangerous. I should have known just how dangerous, and I should have reported him to the police. But I was scared.” She looked at Susan again. “And I’d heard such awful things about what they do, you know, in court, to girls who make such complaints. How they make out you’re the guilty one, that you’re just a slut, and how they get all sorts of doctors and…I…I just didn’t think I could go through with it. I mean, I was living with Owen, wasn’t I? And I had given in to him willingly before. What would they have said about that? They’d have said I led him on, that’s what.”
“The courts aren’t so easy on rapists these days, Michelle,” said Susan. “It wouldn’t have been like that.”
“But how was I to know?”
“Was that the only reason you didn’t report the incident?” Banks asked. “Fear of the police and the courts?”
“Well, mostly. But there was Owen, too, wasn’t there? I mean, after someone’s done something like that to you, something violent, you have to wonder, don’t you, whether they’re capable of anything. You hear about men stalking women and all the things they do to them. I was ashamed, but I was scared as well. Scared of what he might do.” She looked at her watch. “My God, it’s after two,” she said. “Look, I really must go now. Mr. Littlewood is only liberal to a degree.”
“In the light of what you’ve just told us,” Banks said, “we’d like to get a full statement from you. We can do it
