Читать книгу Unbreakable: My life with Paul – a story of extraordinary courage and love - Lindsey Hunter - Страница 18
Оглавление1998–2000
By the spring of 1998, I’d settled into my own house and was feeling really confident about life in general. I was still running between three different jobs, but it was worth it. I managed to fit in a good social life and had lots of friends. My parents and my sister Tracy came round to visit me all the time and I felt as if everything had fallen into place.
Apart from Paul.
My friend Vicky had moved into the house with me, and she was going through a really bad time; the lad she had been with for 10 years had split up with her and she was in shock because she’d thought they would be together forever. We were like two Bridget Joneses. We’d stay in at the weekend with a bottle of wine moaning about men. Vicky would say, ‘When are we going to meet lads we really like?’ I’d say, ‘Well, I’ve found mine but he doesn’t want me!’
I used to talk about Paul all the time. I must have driven my friends up the wall, because they would often tell me to get over him and find somebody else – and shut up about it. If I was a friend of mine, I’d have been saying the same thing. The pain was constant – it was as if being away from him physically and emotionally for those months had made me want him even more. I was pining for Paul.
Paul had treated me so badly but I still really liked him. How many thousands of girls out there will be able to sympathize with that? Something happens when you fall in love, especially when it’s seemingly one-sided. You don’t even recognize yourself any more. I knew that, if I wanted him, I’d either have to stick it out until he grew up or try to change him somehow. But how?
One night in March, I went into town on a Saturday night with Nicky and some other girls, and we saw Paul a few tables down from us in a club. Nicky said to me, ‘Look at him, Lindsey. He’s out with his friends, meant to be having a good time, but he just looks really unhappy.’ I could see what she was getting at – he was acting as if everything was great, buying drinks for everybody and laughing, but every so often he would just look miserable, especially when he was left on his own if the others were away getting drinks or having a dance. I knew that I was being soft but I decided to go up and speak to him.
‘All right, Paul,’ I said. ‘Lindsey!’ he exclaimed, turning round in his chair to see me. ‘I noticed you were over there with Nicky but I didn’t know if you’d want me to come over.’ I felt sorry for him – we had to get this sorted; even if we weren’t going to be together, I knew that I still wanted to be friends with him. ‘No Gemma tonight, Paul?’ I asked him. ‘No Gemma for a lot of nights,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ve had a fight.’ I just nodded.
‘Look, Paul, I think we need to get a few things sorted.’
‘Are you going to shout at me, Lindsey?’ he asked, and we both smiled, knowing that shouting wasn’t quite my style. ‘No,’ I said. ‘But Paul – you hurt me, you really did. I trusted you and you threw that back in my face. You lied to me and you cheated on me. I don’t ever want that to happen to me again, whether it’s by you or someone else.’
He interrupted me. ‘I know, Linz, and I’m so, so, so sorry. If I could go back and change things I would. It’s just that Gemma and I have been together such a long time. It’s hard to walk away. I’m confused. I don’t know what to do.’
Paul and I chatted a bit more and had a dance together. One of the girls I was with had tickets for another club so we all left before him and his mates.
Years later, when Paul and I were together properly, I asked him what had really been going on in that period. He said that he knew he loved me – but thought what he felt for Gemma was love too, and just couldn’t decide. Because they’d been so young when they got together, she had a hold over him, whereas I intrigued him. I had my own car, my own house, a good job; I didn’t need his money, and he didn’t know what to do with me. Perhaps something in him liked her dependence on him, whereas he could see that I was my own person. If they fell out, he’d have to take her home; I’d just say, ‘Bye, Paul!’ and drive off.
At the time, knowing that Paul was torn between us was enough to make me think that I should give him another chance. Maybe if I stayed strong and supportive, he would be able to make a final break from her. If I could just hang in there, I knew he was worth it.
A few weeks after Paul and I talked in the club, he called me and asked if I would like to go for a meal. He sounded quite upset so I agreed and he picked me up from work that night. We went to a restaurant nearby and he started pouring his heart out to me almost straight away.
‘Lindsey, things aren’t going too well,’ he said. I knew that he wasn’t just referring to the situation with Gemma. Nicky had told me that Paul’s snooker was going from bad to worse. He was drinking too much, smoking too much marijuana, and practising too little. His ranking had gone down and he was in real danger of becoming a wasted talent. It was as if he thought he didn’t need to do any hard work, and he drank vodka into oblivion. That night he told me all of this in his own words, and I listened as if it was news to me.
When he was finished, I said, ‘Paul, it’s fine to do all of that stuff off season, but not when you are meant to be working. Snooker is your job and you don’t seem to be applying yourself so it’s only natural that things have got worse.’ I don’t know if anyone had ever given it straight to Paul like that but to me, it was the same as if he had been working in an office or a factory. ‘You should do your job properly and don’t go looking for sympathy if you are the one mucking things up for yourself.’
‘God, Linz,’ he said, once I had finished my speech. ‘You don’t beat around the bush, do you?’
‘There’s no point, Paul. If you choose to throw everything away, you have to realize that you are the one to blame. You could have the world at your feet if you wanted it.’
‘And would you be there beside me, Lindsey?’ he asked, taking my hand.
I fell for it all. Of course I did.
That night was lovely. We finished our meal and then went back to my house. It was the first time Paul had been there. ‘You’re quite the property tycoon, aren’t you?’ he joked as he walked in. ‘Maybe you’ll be the one keeping me in luxury.’ I made some coffee, but we both knew what was going to happen next. As we sat on the sofa, Paul put his arm around me and drew me towards him. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘Enough to stop seeing Gemma?’ I asked. ‘Anything,’ he answered. ‘Anything.’
I knew I was being a fool to myself, but as we kissed and made our way to the bedroom, I had to believe what he was saying. I didn’t want to be without him any longer, and I did think we had made some progress that night. He had confided in me his worries about his snooker and I had shown that he could always trust me to tell him the truth. I thought that sort of honesty was just the type of thing you built relationships on, and a relationship with Paul was exactly what I wanted. I really thought this was a new beginning.
I hoped I had got through to him, but when he left in the morning, I felt a knot of dread in my stomach. Was he going to her now? He called me that afternoon to say he had really enjoyed our time together and hoped we could do it again next weekend. I was starry-eyed and said ‘yes’, but when I went round to Nicky’s a few nights later to tell her about Paul and me getting back together, she told me something before I could even start. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t phone you last night,’ she said. ‘Paul was here on the bloody thing for hours – our bill’s about trebled because of him and Gemma.’
‘He was calling Gemma?’ I asked, my heart sinking into my boots.
‘Isn’t he always?’ Nicky replied.
I decided not to tell Nicky I’d been seeing him again as I knew she would have divided loyalties. Instead, I called Paul as soon as I got home that night. ‘Paul,’ I began, ‘I need to know something – are we together or not?’ He didn’t even try to lie; he just groaned. ‘Oh, Linz, I know what this is about. I didn’t mean to mess you about, it’s just that … I just can’t … oh, this is a mess, isn’t it?’
It turned out that the night we spent together was the start of the whole cycle repeating itself and I should have guessed it. It went on for months and months on end; in fact, all through 1998 and right into the following year. I’d bump into Paul, we’d get chatting, then I’d sleep with him and think we were together again, only to hear that he was back with Gemma. I hated myself for it, but it was as if I was addicted – I also knew, in my heart of hearts, that he was the one for me.
I’d heard that his snooker was still going downhill and that he hadn’t paid a blind bit of attention to my advice. He was spending far too much time partying and far too little time practising. He was in nightclubs more than snooker clubs, and he always seemed to be in the newspapers for the wrong reasons. I thought that maybe I could be the one to save him from himself, if only I got the chance – he needed someone to look out for him – but he would have to make the decision to be with me and only me first.
Before I had met him, back in 1996 he had gone to a snooker tournament in Blackpool and was mucking about on the promenade late one night with Matthew Stevens, a very close snooker player friend. Matthew and Paul had made their way through snooker qualifying school together and they were two young lads who liked to have a beer and muck around. That night in Blackpool, they both decided to have a bit of a laugh, and started taking their clothes off. Paul only got down to his t-shirt and boxers (he was always a bit self-conscious about being so skinny), but Matthew went the whole hog and streaked along Blackpool pier. They both got their clothes back on and were fully dressed by the time the police car appeared. Someone had reported that there was a naked man wandering through Blackpool and they were there to make sure someone was reprimanded. It was reported in all the papers that Paul Hunter had been fined for streaking, but no one ever got the real story. Paul knew that Matthew’s family would be horrified if their son was caught stripping in public, even if it was only two drunk lads having a laugh. So, when the police arrived and asked who had been starkers, Paul took the blame. He was already developing a naughty, bad boy image, so he reasoned it was easier for him to take the rap – even though it resulted in him being disciplined and fined by the World Professional Billiards and Snooker Association for his behaviour. This was one of the earliest of the ‘bad boy’ stories to reach the press, but it set a pattern and there would be lots more to come.
The months went on and I struggled to cope with the Paul and Gemma situation. I had never been messed around like that in my life. I wouldn’t do it to somebody and I wouldn’t have expected to have it done to me but I was completely under Paul Hunter’s spell. Each time, after he’d hurt me, he would be contrite and sad and confused and desperate to make up again. He seemed to be getting hooked on me as well, but at the same time he couldn’t let go of Gemma.
I didn’t recognize myself; I couldn’t get away no matter how hard I tried. Whenever I phoned his sister or Nicky for a natter, I’d ask, ‘Is she there?’ If they said that she was, I felt as if my heart was being ripped out.
I decided I would try to meet somebody else. For about six months I tried to play Paul at his own game. I met and dated four different lads, trying to find someone to help me get over Paul, but it just wasn’t working. I went out with one of them, a lad called Chris, for about two months. He was six foot four, had a good job, was well dressed and I did like him – but at the back of my mind I was thinking about how jealous Paul would feel when he saw me out in town with Chris. It worked to an extent. Paul started calling me a lot more while I was seeing Chris.
I was driving another lad home to Wakefield one night and it was announced on the radio that Paul Hunter was in a local tournament. I looked across at this poor boy and thought, ‘What am I doing with you?’ Even when I went for a cheekier sort, they didn’t appeal the way Paul did. Instead of finding someone to take my mind off him, I kept thinking that there was something he had that they didn’t. I kept trying to get away then I kept going back to him.
