I keep a list of topics by the phone, on a small blackboard. These might be TV programmes I’ve watched, books I’ve read, current affairs that have interested me, even the spat I had with a woman in Waitrose. When you know you only have ten minutes to talk, the pressure to think of something to say can be enormous. I find I do most of the talking – I guess my life is so much more varied than his – but I make a point of being interested in the minutiae of his day, too.
Jack goes to nursery at 9 a.m. and then it’s a short drive to my offices in town. I get involved in most areas of criminal law – filing cases, investigation, visiting police stations, taking witness statements, liaising with the court, etc. – but most of my time is spent on appeals and that involves a lot of paperwork and research. I visit prisons from time to time, but never HMP Wandsworth where Jonathan is currently. That would be a potential conflict of interest. Most of my clients know nothing about my private life and I like to keep it that way.
Jack and I get home at about six and he’s usually very tired, so we just watch a bit of TV before it’s time for his bath and bed. There is a photograph beside his bed of his dad and me on our wedding day. I had a friend Photoshop it so that you can’t really tell it was taken inside a prison. I always sit with Jack until he falls asleep. Friends tell me I’m creating problems for myself down the line doing this, but Jonathan sits and looks at our photograph at exactly this time too. It is our time together as a family.
People often assume that Jack was conceived before Jonathan was convicted, but Jonathan and I met and married before we thought about having a family. HMP Wandsworth doesn’t allow conjugal visits, but as Jonathan’s solicitor I’m allowed time alone with him. We try not to take advantage of the system, but at the end of the day, we’re two people in love.
Evening is when I work for Jonathan. I manage his website, answer mail on his behalf, post blogs and Facebook stories, and of course I’m working on his appeal all the time. I write to him, too, putting down my thoughts, dreams, memories, both good and bad. I’ve discovered the incredible emotional punch that can be packed inside a good letter. It is important for me to find ways in which our unusual relationship works better than more conventional ones, and in this regard I feel we have the edge. Communicating via written correspondence really intensifies the level of our connection. There are couples that spend hours together every day who don’t have the intimacy that Jonathan and I share.
People ask me how I do this, how long I can carry on with this half-life but, knowing Jonathan, there can be no alternative for me. And it’s really not so bad. I speak to him, write to him, most days. I see him every couple of weeks. He’s not there to carry out the rubbish or take the lid off the marmalade jar, but I know I’m in his thoughts every waking hour. He thinks of no other woman but me. I’m as sure of his love as any woman can be.
People ask me if I feel my life is on hold. I understand them thinking that way but the answer is no. My life might be unconventional, my family certainly is, and of course I hope things will be different in future. For now, though, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
(Maggie Rose: case file 64/701 Hamish Wolfe)
Chapter 93
‘PETE, MAGGIE ROSE on the phone for you.’
Pete is on his way back from the loo, having stopped off at the coffee machine. It’s two days since the Parkhurst riot, and this will be the first time he’s spoken to her.
‘Hi, Maggie.’
‘I think I’ve found the office the killer used. The computer is still in it. I’m there now.’
It takes a second for the news to sink in, then he’s looking around to see who else is in the room. ‘Where? Where are you?’
She names a small industrial estate on the outskirts of Bristol’s south side.
‘Maggie, I can’t just – what makes you think you’ve got the right place?’
‘It’s a one-room office with private toilet and kitchen. Taken in the name of a company called PCG Ltd, which doesn’t exist. I checked. The rent’s paid up until the middle of next year, but nobody’s been near the place for months. We know that because a load of junk mail’s built up just inside the door. I’m with the caretaker of the site. He has a spare set of keys, but we haven’t been inside yet.’
He’s trying to think. And to get Liz’s attention. ‘OK, I’ll try and have someone pop round in the next few days.’
‘I thought you’d say that. The security system on the gate involves the guard keeping a record of people going in and out of the estate. It’s in case of an emergency evacuation. They need to know which units are occupied and who’s in each one.’
‘And?’
‘They don’t keep CCTV footage for more than three months, and they don’t take car registrations, but the logbooks go back three years. The office was used regularly, right up until the middle of November 2013. That’s two weeks before Wolfe was arrested. No one has been near it since.’