Chapter 39: THEN - The Safe Room

I spent the hours before my wedding cleaning away red paint. Then the police turned up and I had to file a report. We pushed the wedding back by three hours, desperately trying to air out the room and wash away all the piss. I refused to let what he did stop us from getting married, because that was exactly what he wanted. I might have had tears in my eyes for the wrong reasons, but at least we said our vows and signed our contract.

“All that matters is that we’re together,” Ed whispered to me during the awkward first dance. “We can do all of this again some other time.”

I’d kissed him and told him he was right, but as we waltzed in a room that still stank of urine, I knew I’d never risk another party in case Peter escalated things again. I desperately tried not to let that make me sad, but I was. I was devastated.

We postponed the honeymoon because Ed and I agreed it was more important to make sure Peter was arrested for violating the restraining order again. I had an opportunity to get him back behind bars and I wasn’t going to let it slip through my fingers. If the police needed me, I wanted to be available.

I went into the station. Since moving to York, the PC working on my case, who acted as my liaison, had changed twice. Currently, PC Barton was my port of call, and I’d never met him before. He turned out to be a wiry man in his twenties, barely older than I was at the time.

I told him my story. I showed him photographs of the mess, and copies of the messages Peter sent to me when I was at school. He cleared his throat. His gaze travelled up above my head towards the door, and I knew it was bad news. Every time a police officer told me there was nothing they could do, they were so ashamed they couldn’t even look at me.

“I’m afraid there’s no evidence that Peter Harlow caused any of the property damage at The Cricket Inn pub,” he said.

“What do you mean? Of course it was him. Who else would it be?”

PC Barton still couldn’t look me in the eye. “There was no CCTV in the orangery, and the outside cameras didn’t pick anyone up. Whoever did this broke in through the back entrance and sprayed the camera as they entered. We have Peter Harlow’s fingerprints on file and there’s nothing in the room⁠—”

“Then he wore gloves and a mask!”

“Mrs Denton, please,” he said.

I jolted at the sound of my new name.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s nothing we can do. He said he was with his mother at the time, and she has backed up his story.”

I shook my head. “Who else would do this to me?”

“Keep a diary of anything⁠—”

“You think I don’t already do that?” I said through gritted teeth. “You lot won’t do anything until I’m dead.”

He flinched at that. “It’s not over, Mrs Denton. We’re going to continue our investigation. But at this time, we cannot arrest Peter Harlow. The case just isn’t good enough. I’m sorry. I could arrest him, but it would be a waste of everyone’s time.”

I left the station in floods of tears, no longer caring who saw me crying. It was Honey who’d brought me there and when she saw me her face went white. She didn’t say a word. She took hold of my hand and led me through to the car park. She knew he was going to get away with it.

For the first time, I realised she was truly scared, too. Peter was still out there as a free man and he was dangerous. There was always a fear hanging over anyone in our family that Peter might turn his attention to them, too. He’d already turned up at Honey’s salon and got her fired.

Honey took me home to Ed, but she didn’t stay; she kissed me on the cheek and left. I spent the evening recounting it all to Ed while he made me cups of tea and occasionally stood to pace the room.

“I feel so helpless,” he kept saying. “I just want… I want to kill him.”

I winced and pulled away, surprised by the ferocity in his voice.

“It’s not fair, Amber. Why does he get to carry on terrorising you when you’ve never done anything wrong? You… you’ve done everything the police have told you to do. Everything. But you have to live in fear while he pisses all over our wedding and calls you a whore in pig’s blood. He’s… he’s…”

I walked over, shushed him, and pulled him into my arms.

“I should be able to protect you,” he said.

“You can’t do that from prison.” I sighed. “I want to kill him too. Believe me. But he’s not worth it.” I held him tight. “You do protect me. You do it every day. I feel safe in our home because I’m here with you. He’s too much of a coward to try anything with a man in the house.”

He ran his hands through my hair and kissed me full on the mouth. I melted into him, letting go of the fear for a short time.

Strangely, I slept soundly that night. All the exhaustion knocked me out. I slept through my phone as it rang in the middle of the night and only woke when it rang a second time. I answered it groggily.

“Amber, it’s Honey. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I really wanted to end it, but I fucked up. I hope one day you might be able to forgive me.”

The line went dead and I sat there staring at my phone. What did she mean? I didn’t understand. A few moments later the phone rang again and this time I heard my hysterical mother screeching down the phone. I blinked, in shock, trying to piece words together.

“Mum, slow down. What are you trying to say?”

Ed heard the panic in my voice and got out of bed. He started pulling on a pair of jeans. I felt like I was in a movie, that this wasn’t real life.

“It’s your sister,” Mum said. “She stabbed Peter. Amber. Amber, she tried to kill him. She… she tried but she he’s… Amber, Honey got arrested for attempted murder.”