Unbreakable: My life with Paul – a story of extraordinary courage and love. Lindsey Hunter

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.