(C) Copyright 1998 Associated Newspapers Ltd. MAIL ON SUNDAY

Headline: 'The police were obsessed that I murdered my wife.. the interrogation was very aggressive.. it worried me that the jury might be persuaded of my guilt'

'I KNOW SOME PEOPLE DOUBT MY INNOCENCE,' SAYS GORDON PARK AS HE TAKES A BREAK AT ULLSWATER IN CUMBRIA. 'BUT I'D NEVER HIT ANYONE.'

THE LAST time I saw Carol was a Saturday morning in the summer 1976.

We'd agreed the night before to give the children a special treat and take them to Blackpool funfair.

Come the morning, she had decided she did not want to go after all. The reason she gave escapes me but it was not significant. Changing her mind suddenly like that was entirely normal for Carol.

And so the children and I had our day in Blackpool and when we returned she was not here. It didn't surprise me. It was not the first time she had left.

She had walked out on me about six times already, sometimes returning the next day, other times leaving me for months on end for other men.

There was no note. Just her wedding and engagement rings which she had left on the dressing-table to indicate that our marriage was over. It was 'wait and see' time again.

SO BEGAN one of the most intriguing unsolved murder mysteries of our times: Who killed the lady in the lake?

The man speaking is 53-year-old Gordon Park and it is 10 days since the charge that he murdered his wife Carol more than 21 years ago was sensationally dropped.

Carol was 31 when she vanished from the family home in Leece, a village on the outskirts of Barrow-in-Furness in Cumbria, on July 17, 1976.

But a murder inquiry began only last August when her trussed-up body was discovered by amateur divers in Coniston Water, 20 miles away in the Lake District. Wearing only a blue baby-doll nightdress, her corpse had been wrapped and tied in plastic sheeting and weighed down with heavy metal.

Gordon, who had since married twice, was the immediate suspect. Arrested and charged with killing Carol, he waited for months to plead his case in court. But that day never came, because the Crown Prosecution Service decided there was insufficient evidence to proceed with the case.

Freed and in hiding from the Press with his third wife, Jenny, he said nothing. But now he has broken his silence in an exclusive interview with The Mail on Sunday, in which he says: 'I did not kill Carol - and I want people to know the truth. I want to put the record straight and draw a line under these terrible events.' And then, with anger in his voice, he adds: 'I want her murderer caught. After all I've been through, the police owe it to me.'

Gordon, a retired teacher, believes Carol could have been murdered by an unknown lover who may even have collected her from their home on the day she walked out.

He says: 'Nothing can be certain but she had done it all several times before. That's why I didn't even report her missing for six weeks. Throughout the summer holidays I waited for some contact from her, but there was none.

At the end, I felt I had to do something, so I rang my solicitor.

'We used the media and the Salvation Army to try to find her. The police made inquiries.

There were reports of sightings.

'I was not unduly worried about Carol. She was young, attractive, vivacious and quite capable of looking after herself. I expected that she had gone off with somebody else. But I found her comings and goings devastating.

I could not understand what was wrong, how I was failing her, why she was unhappy, how she could leave three lovely children.

'It is very hard when three little children ask why Mummy has not come home or when she is returning.'

THE story that Gordon Park pours out is all too common . . . one of young love gone wrong, of infidelity and of unhappiness.

He was born in Barrow, the son of working-class parents, his father a gas meter reader and his mother a conductor on the buses. But by the time he began going out with Carol his parents had built up a successful paint and wallpaper business and were going up in the world.

Carol, 17, was a clerk in Barrow Town Hall when she was introduced by a mutual friend to 20-year-old Gordon. 'She was full of fun, intelligent and enjoyed life,' he recalls. 'We did all the usual things, going to dances and pubs, and I used to repair the little scooter she was so proud of.

'We both worked full-time, so we really saw each other only at weekends when we would go out in the Ford Popular I had bought for £5. We would have a meal or go to the cinema or parties with friends.

'It was a typical teenage romance, punctuated by the sort of rows and walkouts that I'm sure most people experience. Our early arguments were over an old boyfriend of hers I had known from school days.

'We finished with each other more than once, then Carol would threaten suicide and dramatically ring up to say she had taken an overdose.

'Once, I shot round to her home with my sister but Carol hadn't taken that many pills and was seeking attention.' Gordon moved out of his parents' home and began building his own house from scratch on a plot he had bought in Leece. Meanwhile, Carol had given up her town hall job and was training as a teacher at Matlock College, Derbyshire, where Gordon visited her at weekends.

They seemed to drift into marriage. Gordon says: 'I was building the house but it was not specifically for us as a couple. Carol just happened to be my current girlfriend. But before too long we were engaged.' They married in 1967 and moved into the unfinished house, named Bluestones, just as Carol qualified as a teacher.

Three years later Carol's sister, Christine, was murdered, throttled by a jealous boyfriend who was jailed for life. She left an 18-month-old baby, Vanessa, whom Gordon and Carol decided to adopt. They were also trying for a baby of their own - and their son Jeremy was born in March 1970.

Gordon says: 'I found it exciting being married, with a house to run and children to care for. But Carol often went into a shell. She was dissatisfied with me and would come to life only when other people were with us.

'At the time it never occurred to me that she felt I was holding her back - but looking back now it seems that's what she must have been thinking.'

Soon, with the birth of their daughter Rachael, the Parks had three children aged under three - and this was when their marriage began to go wrong.

'Carol became very unstable and didn't seem happy with me. We didn't get out much and had little money. The harmony had disappeared from our relationship. Carol would cry over the smallest things.

'She seemed so troubled and I could not reach her or make any difference to her state of unhappiness. Little problems somehow became big ones. We lost the communication we'd had. She loved our children and they loved her and we should have been the perfect family unit. I still look at the photos of the happy times together but ask myself: if she'd loved us, how could she leave us?

'She first walked out in September 1972. It was with someone I knew. I even confronted him and he was man enough to come to see me and own up. He promised me his relationship with Carol had ended.' But within a year she had a new man, a local shipyard worker. 'I was introduced to him as a friend of Carol's she had met on an Open University course,' says Gordon. 'And soon we were socialising together with his wife, having drinks and meals at our home.

But it wasn't long before his wife and I realised something was going on between them.

'Carol admitted being involved and promised to stop seeing him - but she didn't. In the end she admitted adultery and told me she was leaving me. I was devastated. I could not understand what was wrong, how I was failing her, why she was unhappy, how she could leave three lovely children, or how to make it right between us.

'Her boyfriend brought her home to pack and she left with him. But next day she was back. That was in March 1974. The next month she left again with a holdall in the morning but returned the same evening.' Later that year an Open University summer school gave Carol the chance of another illicit romance - this time with a fellow student named David. After this she began asking for a divorce.

'She rang me at school and I was called to the head's office to take the call. She told me she wanted a divorce. I was shocked, deeply.

'That night I took my children home, made tea, played with them, read with them, bathed them and put them to bed with a kiss.

Then I did the housework, washing, food preparation and school preparation for the next day, as usual. I just couldn't see what I had done to warrant Carol's behaviour.' By the end of the year she was living with David in Middlesbrough and had applied to the courts for custody of the children. She failed.

Gordon says: 'At a hearing in March 1975 I was awarded custody, which at the time was very unusual for a man. But the court decided I was looking after the children well and that it was important they should stay in their home and schools surrounded by their family and friends.' Losing the children may have brought Carol to her senses because next month she was back home. 'I was overjoyed,' says Gordon. 'We talked endlessly and everything came out.

But six days later she was gone again - back to David.

'In August they came to collect the children for a fortnight's holiday.

Two weeks later, when I arrived at David's to collect them, I found Carol with her bags packed asking me to take her back to Barrow. The relationship with David had broken down so we agreed to give our marriage another go.

'You may ask why I did it after all that had gone before, but I felt we still had a lot going for us - three nice kids who needed their mum, good jobs and a nice house. And I still loved her. There were a lot of wounds to heal, much to forgive and forget. I thought we were doing that.' For nearly a year they tried. But in July 1976, Carol left for the last time, never to be seen alive again . . . except by her killer.

AS CAROL'S absence lengthened, Gordon did the only thing he could do - he got on with his life. 'There was no time for self-pity,' he says. 'My primary responsibility was to carry on working in order to look after the children.

It was extremely difficult.

'My life was all work and sleep. I felt like an emotional cripple but had to carry on, otherwise the children would have been taken into care. I had no option but to 'dig deep' to find the necessary mental resources to cope.

'Whenever the children asked what had happened to their mother I simply told them she had left. When they asked why, I said she must have been unhappy.

'But I never mentioned her men to them. I wanted them to have a positive image of their mother. It is important if children are to preserve their own self-esteem.' The police were taking an interest in Carol's disappearance.

'They were suspicious because I had not notified them as soon as she'd vanished. The investigation lasted about six months. I was interviewed by senior detectives.

'They looked in the freezer, the loft, wanted to know what clothing Carol had taken and asked the children if they had said goodbye to their mum. There were reports of a vehicle seen outside my home that day and it seemed likely she had gone off with someone else - the notion that she was dead just never entered my head. The police did not say that they suspected me of murder, but they pointed out that if ever a body was found, I would be the first suspect.' Three years after her disappearance Gordon divorced Carol on the grounds of her desertion. He married twice and was on holiday in France with third wife Jenny when the body was discovered last August. His son Jeremy rang them in Gascony to break the news: 'They think it's Mum and the police want to interview you.' Gordon says: 'It was the start of a nightmare. The media wrongly reported that we were in hiding and that police were in France looking for us. In fact, it just took us two days to get home.

'I couldn't believe the scene when we walked into our house. The police had been there. They had got a key from one of the children - but because the bedroom door was locked they smashed it down.

'Everything had been taken - two computers, all my disks, bank statements, bills and medical cards. They took every piece of rope they could find in the house, including one tying up a drainpipe.

'Every hammer went, an old car number plate, an outboard motor - even my son's flippers.' Gordon was arrested on suspicion of murder. 'It was a shock,' he says. 'I realised I was the person with the sort of information the police wanted. I did my best to co-operate and answer all their questions fully. But I thought that as soon as I'd told them all I could, they'd realise they'd made a mistake and release me. I did not expect to be arrested.' Formally charged with murdering his ex-wife, Gordon was remanded in Preston Prison. 'From the warmth of France, I suddenly found myself alongside murderers and rapists. I was frightened to death, yet I was never once threatened - I was given marvellous support by the lifers.' After two weeks Gordon was bailed on condition he lived with his sister Barbara in Manchester.

TEN days ago the charge of murdering Carol was dropped and Gordon was freed from the threat of a trial - and maybe the rest of his life in jail.

But, reflecting on his ordeal now, he reveals how it has made him suspicious, questioning everything. He is unable to relax.

Huge support comes from Jenny. He likens her to a teenager. 'Just look at her,' says Gordon, 'and you know why we are so much in love. I don't mean to sound smug but we are so totally happy together, beyond anyone's possible understanding.' Jenny, who has two children by her previous marriage, actually went out with Gordon at school before he met Carol. She recalls: 'We went our separate ways and 30 years later met up again as teachers.

'Gordon is so caring and compassionate, gentle, loving - and he listens.

He's just a lovely gentleman and I'm horrified to think anyone could suspect he was capable of murder.

'We've coped only because our marriage is rock solid and there has been marvellous support from friends, family, colleagues and even parents of the children we have taught.

'I've been reduced to tears by the hundreds of letters from complete strangers all offering help. We've never had one nasty letter or phone call.

The worst moment was when the police said they were going to charge him.

But our love has held us together.' GORDON, though, is bitter at the attitude of the police. 'Yes, Carol was found in Coniston where I had previously sailed,' he says, 'but at the time of her disappearance I didn't even own a boat, having sold a racing dinghy a few weeks earlier.

'The police flatly refused to believe that. And because they thought I had intimate knowledge of Coniston, their attitude was that I must have done it. I could understand their suspicions but they totally overreacted.

'The police appeared to be obsessed with their belief in my guilt. The interrogation I got was gruelling. It lasted two days and nights. I would be alone in my cell, then subjected to an intense grilling by two detectives at once. It happened again and again.

It seemed that they were trying to break me down.

'The questioning started in a fairly civilised way but became more intense - and in the end very aggressive. My solicitor had to stop it three times.

But I knew they could have no direct evidence linking me to this crime because there isn't any. I did not do it.

'But it did worry me that some slick-tongued barrister might be able to persuade enough members of a jury of my guilt, just through a dramatisation of the circumstances. Just doing his job!

'How do you prove you did not do something?

'People might think that, given the way Carol treated me, I'd every motive for killing her. But I am not a violent person. I don't believe in violence.

I would never dream of hitting anyone, especially a woman, no matter what provocation.

'I know some people will still doubt my innocence. And it will only be when someone else is sent to prison for murdering Carol that they'll be persuaded I didn't do it.

'The police say they are continuing their investigations. Good.

'Because I want the answer to finally clear my name.' He wants an end to the mystery of the Lady in the Lake. He has not, though, been to Coniston Water since Carol's body was found there.

The place has happy memories for him because he sailed there in the years after her disappearance. Now he has no wish to go back.

A thought crosses his mind and brings tears to his eyes. 'I must have sailed over her body dozens of times,' he muses. 'I cannot see that I will ever enjoy the place again.'

(C) Copyright 1998 Associated Newspapers Ltd. MAIL ON SUNDAY