So Paula, what’s it really like married being to Britain’s most notorious prisoner?
Tears as she honeymooned alone. Her parents snubbing her big day. And taking a Charles Bronson lookalike to the reception . . .
THE text dropped into Paula Williamson’s smartphone inbox just as she had stepped into her wedding gown. It was from her mum and dad. ‘Dear Paula, this isn’t what we would have chosen,’ began the text, with impeccable understatement, ‘but we respect your decision. We love you very much. We hope you have a fantastic day and give our love to Charlie.’
Who could not feel for Paula’s parents and understand their sentiment? Brave words, which cannot conceal the sorrow behind them. For can there be a mother or father on earth who would want to see their daughter marry the notorious criminal Charles Bronson?
A prison inmate of 43 years, who during his time behind bars has beaten up prison officers, held numerous rooftop sieges and once threatened to eat an inmate he had taken hostage? No, this is not the sort of husband a parent wants for their daughter.
Paula, a 37-year- old soap actress, married Bronson, who seems to thrive on his reputation as ‘Britain’s most notorious prisoner’, on Tuesday last week, in a meeting room at HMP Wakefield, where he is locked up for 22 hours a day in solitary confinement.
The former Coronation Street extra says she is sad her mum, a retired laboratory technician, and dad, a retired postman, did not come to the wedding but understands their reason for not doing so.
‘Even I realise such a marriage is not what a parent would want for their daughter,’ she says. ‘But you know, we’ve come a long way, from really quite strong opposition to them sending their love to Charlie.
‘They can see he makes me happy. They see what I’m like when I’ve been to see him or when I’ve spoken to him on the phone. They don’t understand it but they can see it’s real. And they just want me to be happy.’
But perhaps they can also see that the likelihood of that must be slim.
After a rather riotous reception, attended by gangsters and oddballs, Paula spent her wedding night alone — conjugal relations are strictly forbidden for prisoners, with no exceptions made.
The next day, she jetted out to Malta for ‘their’ honeymoon. On the plane, she tried to be optimistic. Who needs a husband, she reasoned, in order to enjoy a honeymoon?
SHE would relax, swim in the pristine waters of the Mediterranean and go for long walks on the beach. It would be quality time alone (although she did have her agent with her).
By the time she had checked into the four-star Ramla Bay Resort for a four-night stay, her husband conspicuous by his absence, she felt wretched.
The pair wouldn’t even be able to exchange loving words on the phone because, Paula says, the prison authorities have put Charlie on ‘Live Calls’, meaning all his conversations will be recorded and terminated if deemed inappropriate or a security risk. She couldn’t even go through the wedding photographs — taken by a prison guard — because the prison authorities had refused to release them, she says.
Paula resorted, in the end, to shutting herself in her hotel room and reading a book.
‘Obviously I knew Charlie wasn’t going to be on our honeymoon, but it was only when I got to the hotel that it really hit home,’ she says. ‘I felt so sad and lonely.
‘One day I just sat on the beach, feeling upset. For two days I locked myself in my room reading one of Charlie’s books [ Bronson has published a number of books of his quite frankly disturbing paintings and etchings], so I could feel closer to him.’
Now, back home in Stoke- onTrent, Staffordshire, the reality of being Mrs Salvador is finally hitting home. Bronson was born Michael Peterson, before changing his name to Charles Bronson, after the American actor, before changing it again to Charles Salvador three years ago in homage to surrealist artist Salvador Dali.
But the Salvadors won’t be seeing much of each other — just once or twice a fortnight, and separated by bars, is as good as it gets.
Nor is there any realistic prospect of a release date any time soon. Earlier this week, the parole board confirmed that it has recommended Bronson not be released — and he won’t have another ‘ jam roll’ hearing, as Bronson calls it, for two more years.
Paula says she is staying positive, despite the parole board’s decision and ‘all the negativity’. She has been trolled online and accused of being a publicity seeker; her revelation during our interview that she is making a documentary about her life with Bronson will only fuel such accusations.
Yet, as unfathomable as it might seem, Paula definitely displays all the signs of a smitten new bride.
Her face lights up when she’s recounting a Bronson anecdote and she proudly shows me her wedding ring — a white gold band engraved ‘CPS 2017 1314’. CPS stands for Charlie and Paula Salvador — and is also a nod to Charlie’s long acquaintance with the Crown Prosecution Service — and 1314 is his old prison number.
‘We said we might as well make a joke about it — it is what it is.’ But you get a sense that Paula doesn’t find it all as funny as she did at the beginning. She seems rather fragile during our meeting, as though she is starting to feel the weight of all she’s taken on.
On the wedding day itself, Paula woke up in the bridal suite of the York House Hotel in Wakefield, West Yorkshire, feeling so anxious she was sick.
A friend of Bronson’s drove her to the prison, where she was subjected to a humiliating full body search, including two sniffer dogs nosing around her taffeta.
‘The guards had to go through my hair, which messed it up. And it was already messed up because I had a blanket over my head so no one could see the dress,’ she says.
Paula, a Roman Catholic, had wanted a Catholic ceremony, but had not been able to find a priest willing to take the job on. Besides, Bronson is twice divorced. His first wife was Irene, whom he wed in 1972 and with whom he had a son, Michael, the same year. They divorced in 1977.
In 2001, he married Saira Rehman at HMP Woodhill, after, like Paula, she began a correspondence with him. He briefly converted to Islam and changed his name to Charles Ali Ahmed. They divorced four years later.
His latest wife ended up with a civil ceremony in a soulless meeting room.
A dozen riot police with batons and shields were stationed at the ready in the room next door, just in case Bronson decided to take anyone hostage, or maybe beat up the registrar.
Paula’s father had declined to walk her ‘down the aisle’ so this
honour fell to Stuart Godfrey, a cousin of Bronson.
Awaiting her, with tears in his eyes, was the 64-year-old groom, in black trousers and black shirt, a white jacket, a red carnation and black shoes with Union Jacks on them — and of course, that handlebar moustache, specially twirled. ‘Charlie welled up when he saw me, he was very emotional, we both were,’ says Paula.
‘We chose traditional vows. We promised to love each other. When we were declared man and wife, everyone cheered, the guards as well. The guards love Charlie.’ (Those he hasn’t beaten up, presumably).
The bride and groom kissed, then kissed again, and again. Then Bronson sang a rendition of My Way — just as he did after they got engaged. The ceremony over, they were given time to mingle with their guests and have a spot of lunch, paid for out of Bronson’s canteen allowance — sandwiches, mince pies and Viennetta ice cream. The guests had to toast the newlyweds with sparkling water.
‘We mingled with the other guests but we had 15 minutes just to ourselves. Charlie said: “Right, we’re a team, officially by law.”
‘And I replied: “Yes, and I’m never giving up on you.”
‘He said: “Thank you so much for believing in me, for being my wife.” ’
Just before things became too syrupy, one of the guards called out: ‘Right, it’s four o’clock.’
Bronson said to Paula: ‘Babe, that’s it, have a few sherbets for me.’
As she left the room, he called out: ‘Enjoy the honeymoon, be strong,’ and gave her a wink.
As far as the bride and groom were concerned, that was it for the day.
PAUlA
was upset to be told she was not permitted to take any pictures away. ‘ My mum wants a picture and so does Charlie’s mum, who was 87 on the day and not well enough to come up here.’
She made her way to the reception at the York House Hotel, where guests included Eddie Richardson, 81, a notorious former South london gang boss, and Dave Courtney, a ‘ former gangland enforcer’. Paula footed the bill.
There was a finger buffet, some pasta and antipasti, and plenty of wine, beer and champagne.
With Bronson back in his cell, she had to make do with a first dance with Bronson lookalike, Timothy Crowley. ‘ The reception was lovely,’ says Paula. ‘ We had more than 200 people who came from all over the world.’
By 10.30pm, she was tucked up in bed alone, and went straight to sleep. But her situation hit home the next day when she flew out on honeymoon. ‘It was the crash after the wedding. I felt sad,’ she says.
‘I did try to enjoy myself. I went for a walk on the beach and went paddling in a kayak. But then I just gave up and holed myself up in my room.
‘Ordinarily we would have spoken on the phone but Charlie was told he was being put on live Calls three days before the wedding. If either of us says anything not allowed, the call is terminated. But we don’t know what is or isn’t allowed.
‘Charlie said to me, while this is going on, we’re not going to speak on the phone. He doesn’t want to create more stress for me and I respect his decision. I don’t know why the prison has done it, I’ve given up trying to work out the reasons for their decisions.’
It is almost one year exactly since Paula first met Bronson. She began writing to him after being ‘drawn’ to one of his books in Waterstones and being ‘inspired’ by his story.
Bronson’s ‘story’ in brief, is this: sent to prison in 1974 for an armed robbery in a post office, he has carried out nine rooftop sieges, taken 11 hostages and attacked at least 20 prison officers.
DURInG one particularly infamous siege, when he took two inmates hostage, he threatened to eat one of the prisoners. But Paula says she sees the ‘lost soul’ behind these acts of violence.
After reading his book, a memoir about his time in prison, there followed a three-year correspondence between the pair, which grew increasingly flirtatious over time.
At their first encounter at the prison last november, Bronson’s opening line was: ‘Paula, shall we dance?’ He proposed last February.
The new Mrs Salvador is hoping to arrange tea between her mum and her new mother- in- law — Bronson’s mum.
‘My mum has spoken to Charlie a few times. At first she was a bit taken aback by his gruff Cockney accent, but he made her laugh — you can’t help but like Charlie when you speak to him. She’s looking forward to meeting his mum.’
Paula is convinced that Bronson is a changed man. ‘I don’t condone Charlie’s past actions and he admits his wrongdoing. Since we’ve been together he has behaved himself, he is much calmer, he takes things more in his stride.’
She is calling for his ‘progression’ into normal prison life, and over the next couple of weeks will devote herself to campaigning to persuade people to sign the latest petition to free him. ‘We are now over 20,000 and I’m not done yet!’
She plans to deliver the petition to Downing Street on December 7 and continues to dream of a future that may or may not happen.
‘Charlie says his friend, Ronnie Kray, used to dream of living in a cottage in norfolk. That’s our dream. To have a cottage, perhaps in Surrey.’
Paula has spoken of the possibility of children, but says now by the time Charlie is released — if that day ever comes — they might both be too old. Charlie may be pushing 70, while Paula will be into her 40s.
Still, Charlie has said he would like to breed llamas. ‘Charlie loves llamas — he wants them in our back garden.’ A consolation of sorts. But if, and when, Bronson, serving life, ever does get out of prison and they breed llamas together, is it not possible that, when he’s no longer ‘Britain’s most notorious prisoner’, but just an ordinary pensioner with a silly moustache, the infatuation may wear off?
‘ no, not a chance.’ Paula is adamant. ‘I love Charlie in spite of everything, not because of it. I just wish I’d met him down the pub.’
Yesterday, the newlyweds had to settle for a ‘date’ at HMP Wakefield, where they were allowed to see the wedding photographs for the first time.
‘Charlie said it was a magical day and the next time we do it, it’ll be out in the open,’ Paula said. Then she went home, as ever, alone.