It was never really talked about although she or her mother had said that she had gone to a special school.
Even though we were going out and had been for a while, she lived in a flat near Woking. Both my father and I thought that was an incredible waste of money but she insisted that she kept it; why? Because she had got it in her mind that she wanted to get married in a specific church; if she had lived with me in Lincoln Road, she would not have been able to as it was outside that church’s catchment area or parish boundary.
One evening, we went to a charity auction; she got very drunk. When we got to her flat, she ended up in the bathroom, crying; I came to investigate as I was concerned about her.
When I entered, I found her curled up in a foetal position in the bath of all places. I asked her what was wrong and then she started blabbering, not making a great deal of sense. She said and I remember these words distinctly, even after all these years, “Davey, don’t let them put those wires on my head again”. She was in a hell of a state clearly exsasipated by the alcohol.
At the time, I was just concerned about her, not knowing what she was talking about so I just said anything to calm her down “of course not Sam, I won’t let them”. She started to calm down.
In the morning, I asked her what she meant the previous night. She said that it meant nothing and quickly moved onto another subject. But, with the benefit of hindsight, it was clear that it was ECT treatment.
Since that night, she hardly drank a drop of alcohol, maybe half a glass, as she did not want to let her guard down again. I doubt that her current husband even knows about it, as it was only due to the alcohol that I find out. It is certain that neither of her daughters knows about it as well.
I remember that we went on a trip that required us to cross the QE2 bridge, the Dartmouth Crossing. As I have got older, my fear of heights has worsened and I insisted that she drove across the bridge, I would do the rest. Even though I had explained it to her, she was mightily pissed off as she said that she wanted to see the view from the bridge. I thought that was very unfair of her. I think the fear of heights was inherited from my father because, when he had to go across it to see his mother-in-law in Essex, he drove in the middle lane.
On the way back, she said that she wanted to make a diversion to show me something; she knew exactly where to go. We didn’t get too close to the buildings but got out of the car and she said that was one of her schools; she even recounted the headmistress’s name. I believe that this was the special school that she went to. I cannot even remember if it was before or after the bridge on the way back but I remember the event, if somewhat hazey.
It explains her behaviour, whilst we were married, when we got divorced and subsequently. Even the night of the first date when I had given her the spare room at Lincoln Road and then she came into my bedroom and jumped into bed
When we were in Fetcham, she was happy blowing £3,500 (20 years ago) on a fancy gas fire with remote control but chastised me for spending £50 on a cufflink box, which I still own. I never got to enjoy that fancy fireplace as we were in the process of getting divorced, once it was finally installed.
Even though she had Verity, she was quite content to have an affair with her current husband, concoct a reason for a trial separation that immediately went to a divorce, then moving into her new home that I paid for and swiftly installing who is now her current husband.
And, of course, there was the embezzlement, with the amount stolen, including interest, amounting to £1.3M. She only escaped prison because I begged my father to bale her out so that I didn’t have to take Verity to see her mother in prison.
Then came the lies and the falsification of her CV to make those past events “disappear”.
When I started having a go at her, she kept on recounting everything that she had done for me. Yes, she did help me with the divorce from Rosanna, as I could not drive then but she completely ignored the fact that I had saved her from prison.
That was not the first time I had helped either. When there was concern about Parkinson’s father’s health (Alan who I really got on with) and they wanted to move up to the South East but could not because her parents could not sell their house, I stepped in again and begged my father to lend her the money so that she, along with her mother, could buy a house and they could then move up. Alan was effectively bankrupt as his brother had stitched him up.
Of course, when that embezzlement was discovered, she had to make her parents homeless and sell that house too. I remember seeing their new home; a pokey council house right by the very noisy A24.
That is the trouble with Parkinson; it is all “me, me,me” with absolutely no consideration for others when the illegal actions that she took backfired.
No consideration for me, no consideration for her parents and no consideration for Verity, who was forced to move in with Parkinson’s inlaws for a period.
Someone like that just has no moral compass whatsoever and she is only still with her husband because:
- He is gutless and will not stand up to his wife, unlike me
- Wears rose tinted glasses
Indeed, he is nearly as culpable as Parkinson is. He is an intelligent man and a Chartered Accountant.
Where did he think all of that money came from to finance the purchase of that old people’s home that had a mint spent on it to make it into a luxury home, those holidays to Dubai and the cars that she bought?
Did he honestly believe that she had earned it all or had saved up? If so, he is extremely blinkered and far stupid than his inaction over many years.