From moody to murder!
Sue Beharall's life was cruelly snatched
Sunday 2nd March 2008
As she burst through the front door like a whirlwind, my sister, Sue, had the biggest smile on her face.
'I've had a great idea,' she announced. 'I'm going to plan a big party for my 40th birthday next month.'
'Go for it,' I smiled.
'I'm going to do it properly,' she went on. 'Balloons, caterers, big cake. The lot.'
It was great to see my sister so happy. Then she went quiet.
'I think I'll have to invite Chris, though,' she added.
I tried, but I couldn't hide my disappointment.
She'd been married to Chris Beardshall, 40, for 11 years. He was a great dad to their kids, Ethan, 9, and Matthew, 7, but I couldn't help feeling Sue could do better.
Chris wasn't a bad bloke. He was just so moody. Sometimes, I'd pop round to see Sue, and he'd make me a coffee, sit and have a proper chat, nice as pie. Other times, he'd ignore me, turn up the telly while Sue and I were talking and make it obvious he didn't want me around. Often, I found I just couldn't hold my tongue.
'He's being a bit unreasonable,' I'd say, time and time again.
But Sue's response was always the same: 'I don't want to talk about it.'
So I'd stopped going round there years ago, although I still tried to be civil when I saw Chris at family gatherings. After all, Sue was my only sister. But in March 2006, she'd got back from a three-week holiday in Disneyworld, Florida, and come round to see me.
'I've had enough of Chris's moods,' she'd said. 'He kept storming off and the kids hardly got to go on any rides. I can't be with someone like that any more.' Deep down, I was thrilled, but at that moment, Sue needed my support.
'I'm here,' I'd said, giving her a hug. 'I'll do anything I can to help.'
'Thanks,' she'd replied, blinking back the tears.
Sue had contacted a solicitor and borrowed a single bed from our mum, Hazel Cooper, 63, and dad, Pete, 65, and put it up in the boys' bedroom so she didn't have
to share a bed with Chris. Then, she'd told Chris she was filing for divorce.
'He wasn't happy,' she'd said. 'He told me I'd never go through with it.'
'How dare he!' I'd spat.
'To make it easier on the boys, I'm going to suggest a two-year separation, so we can have an amicable divorce,' she'd explained.
And now, just a month later, with her 40th party plans in full swing, I was proud of how strong she was being. Over the next few weeks, Sue booked a room upstairs at the Three Tuns Pub in Stainton, and invited 100 guests.
Unfortunately, one of them was Chris, but I knew she didn't want to upset the boys by not inviting their dad. Soon, the big day arrived. On 10 June 2006, me and my husband, Glyn, 40, and our children, Robert, 12, and Sarah, 7, were sitting at
a table in the corner of the room, when I spotted someone coming in.
'Look who's here,' I said, as Chris strode across the room, with a face like thunder.
'Just ignore him,' Glyn said.
Chris headed to the bar and started knocking back pints of lager. Thankfully, Sue didn't let him stop her from having a good time. She spent all night on the dancefloor with her friends from The Royal Bank of Scotland, where she worked as a cashier.
But at 11.30pm, I heard somebody scream. I jumped up from the table, and Glyn raced round the corner to the dancefloor. He reappeared a few minutes later, holding onto Chris, who was struggling to get free.
As he marched him downstairs, my throat went dry and I felt sick. What the hell had he done? Then, Mum came rushing over.
'He's just punched her,' she said, shaking.
'What?' I gulped.
'He just stumbled up to Sue on the dancefloor and dragged her to the side,' Mum said tearfully. 'She fell backwards, banged her head on a table and then he just punched her.'
'The animal,' I raged.
'She tried to defend herself,' Mum added. 'And when Glyn came to the rescue, she whacked Chris with one of her red stilettos.'
'Good on her,' I said.
But when Sue appeared a few minutes later, her right eye was horribly swollen.
I was horrified. I knew Chris was moody — but violent?
'You're not going home to him,' I said. 'You and the kids are coming back to ours.'
'But…' she began.
'No buts,' I interrupted. 'I know it'll be crowded, but I don't care. Enough's enough.'
So, that night, Sue slept on the bottom bunk in Sarah's room and we put all three boys together in Robert's room.
The next day, Chris rang her mobile again and again. Eventually, she answered.
'It's over,' she said, before cutting him off.
Later that day, I went round to their house with her to help her collect some of her things. When we walked in, Chris was on the settee, crying his eyes out. Did I feel sorry for him? Did I heck. As far as I was concerned, he'd brought this on himself.
'It's too late,' Sue told him. 'I'm filing for divorce.'
But she didn't want the boys to suffer, so in the weeks that followed, Chris came round every morning to see them before school and had them two nights during the week and on Saturdays.
'You won't believe this,' Sue said a couple of days later. 'My solicitor wants me to move back in, otherwise I'll lose the house.'
'You can't,' I gasped.
'But it's the boys' home,' Sue said.
So, after six weeks at my house, Sue's solicitor arranged for Chris to move out, so she and the boys could go back. But Chris's name was still on the mortgage, so Sue wasn't allowed to change the locks, and he still had a key.
For the first couple of weeks, he stayed over the road at a neighbour's. Then
he moved into their caravan, which was parked in the back garden. Hardly what I'd call moving out. But Sue was prepared to put up with it, as it meant the boys could see their dad.
Things were far from settled, though. One morning, days later, she phoned me, fuming.
'Someone's put superglue in my car door locks,' she raged. 'I've had to take it to the garage to be fixed.'
'It'll just be kids messing about,' I told her.
But two weeks later, she came round in tears.
'Someone's slashed my clothes,' she said.
'What do you mean?' I frowned.
'I got home from work and when I went upstairs to get changed, I found the clothes in my wardrobe had been hacked to shreds,' she gulped.
'Do you think someone broke in?' I asked.
'No,' she said. 'I couldn't see
any signs.'
Chris.
'You should call the police,' I told her.
So Sue got on the phone and reported it to the police. But, a couple of days later, someone used a key to get into Mum and Dad's house, and stole the divorce paperwork that Sue had kept there.
'It's Chris,' I said. 'He obviously let himself into your place and took your key to Mum's.'
Sue called the police every time and reported the incidents. She tried to make out she was OK, but I could see the stress was taking its toll. She was losing weight and was constantly on edge.
'I wish he could just move on,' I grumbled to Glyn.
But Chris still had access to the kids, and when he was with them, he was the perfect dad. Finally, in September 2006, after three months of worry, Sue went to Rotherham Police Station to give a statement.
After a six-hour interview, the police reckoned they had enough evidence to arrest Chris and charge him with harassment. That night, Sue phoned me.
'I don't know when they're going to do it,' she whispered. 'I want to make sure the boys aren't here.'
My heart went out to her. Poor Sue. Always putting other people first. She didn't deserve this. So, a few days later, I suggested something to take her mind off things.
'Why don't you come over for a Chinese?' I said.
'OK,' she said.' Chris has the boys tonight, so I'll be round in a bit.'
As we sat in our living room and tucked into our chicken chow mein, Sue was
on good form.
'There'll be an empty chair at Nanny's this Christmas, because Uncle Chris won't be there,' Robert piped up.
I shot him a glare. But Sue looked up from her plate and smiled.
'Who says I won't be with someone new by then?' she winked.
Finally, a glimmer of the old Sue we all loved was back again. Now, all she needed was to get this divorce behind her, and get Chris out of her garden.
When she left at 10.30pm that night, Sue had a big smile on her face.
'Give me a ring when you're home,' I said, hugging her.
'Will do,' she promised.
But I was so tired, I forgot to take my mobile to bed with me.
Next thing I knew, my eyes shot open as the sound of the landline ringing echoed round the house.
'Who's that?' I panicked. 'It's 3.45 in the morning.'
Glyn jumped out of bed and grabbed the phone. Then, he raced to the bedroom window.
'Your dad's here,' he said. 'With the police.'
I grabbed my dressing gown and raced to the front door.
'He's done her,' Dad cried.
'What? Chris beat Sue up again?'
I gasped, as Dad and a police liaison officer stepped inside.
'No,' the officer said. 'There's been a fatality.'
A fatality. Not my Sue.
'Don't be daft,' I gulped. 'She'll have called me when she got home. She'll be fine.'
But when I reached for my mobile, there was only one missed call. It was from Dad, who'd tried to call me before he'd come round.
'We've found another body, too,' the officer said.
'We think it's Chris.'
I sat there in disbelief, as he explained that Chris had stabbed Sue in bed, then hanged himself.
'The boys?' I gasped.
'They're OK,' he said. 'We found them locked in the caravan. They're being looked after by a neighbour.'
I couldn't believe my sister was gone. A couple of hours later, we went to collect Ethan and Matthew. They didn't know their parents were dead yet.
'Dad put a pillow over my face,' Matthew said, confused. 'He tried to suffocate me.'
'You're safe now,' I said, as we took them to Sheffield Police Station, where they had to give evidence. That didn't finish until 4.30pm, when we were due to see a social worker at Maltby Police Station.
I sat in the room with her as she broke the news to the boys.
'Mummy and Daddy had an argument,' she told them gently. 'Daddy killed Mummy, then he felt so upset about what he did, he killed himself.'
Matthew was crying so hard, all I could do was hold him tightly.
'You're going to live with me now,' I said. I'd agreed to take the boys if anything happened to Sue and Chris. But I never imagined it would. Later, the police took Dad and I to identify Sue's body. Because of the police investigation, we had to look at her through a glass pane.
'She doesn't wear her hair like that,' Dad said.
'I know,' I reassured him. 'It's just the way the police have done it.'
Silly really — as if her hairstyle mattered.
But seeing my sister, looking so still, so peaceful, it finally felt real. I burst into tears for the first time. And I didn't stop crying for the rest of the night.
Next day, we took Matthew to Rotherham District General Hospital for a check-up.
'There's a blister on his lip and shadows under his eyes, which shows pressure has been applied to his face,' the doctor told us. Poor kid. Two weeks after Sue was killed, I took the boys to Herringthorpe Crematorium in Rotherham for
her funeral.
From the moment Robbie Willliams' She's The One started to play, I collapsed in tears. Chris's funeral was the next day. I couldn't bear to go, so Glyn took the boys, while I stayed at home with Mum and Dad.
Over the next few weeks, we did our best to help the boys settle in. We made boxes filled with tickets from Disneyworld and toys Sue had given them. When they'd been with us for a month, we were eating dinner one night, when Matthew put down his fork.
'Are we going to change our surname to Beharall?' he asked.
Poor lad was so confused.
'No, darling,' I said. 'You know who your mum and dad were. They'll always be your parents.'
I never wanted to hear Chris's name again, but he was their father. They'd been through so much, I couldn't taint their memories.
On 5 December last year, Mum, Dad and I went to the inquest at Rotherham Coroner's Court. The coroner concluded Sue had died from stab wounds to the chest and abdomen. On Saturday, 23 September 2006, Chris had had an argument with Sue, and he'd stabbed her. Afterwards, he'd called his friend, Frank Evans, at 11.15pm, to tell him what he'd done.
'Look after the kids,' he'd said, then gone to his workshop behind the house and hanged himself.
It's not known what Sue was stabbed with because the weapon was never found.
As I pictured my poor sister, fighting for her life, I couldn't hold back tears. I'll never know for sure what happened, but I'm positive it was Chris's way of punishing her for divorcing him. We knew Chris was moody, but I'd never have thought he was capable of killing someone.
I miss Sue so much. Sometimes, I hide in my room and sob. But never in front of the kids. I'm determined to be strong for them, like their mum was. And I'll make sure they know just how much she loved them.
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