Jail Bird (7 page)

Promises, promises,
thought Lily. Then she clamped down on the thought, clamped down on the feeling. Her blood was fizzing from that unexpected kiss, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to get mixed up with
anyone.
Getting involved
with hot, dodgy men had got her into this mess. She wasn’t going to go there, not any more. Even if Nick wasn’t Leo, Leo of the dazzling charm and the secret stable of tarts, he was still a bad ’un and he was best avoided.

‘Now,’ he went on, crossing to the inner door. One of the bruisers, the one who had told her to shut up on the joyride over here, was standing there. Nick turned back to Lily. ‘Keep out of Si’s way. And if you see Freddy coming, for the love of God leg it fast in the opposite direction. Okay?’

Lily nodded slowly, although she knew that she was planning to do only one of those things.

‘Nige’ll drive you,’ said Nick, looking expectantly at her. ‘A thank you would be nice,’ he said.

‘Fuck
you,
’ said Lily, and the last thing she heard as she and Nige headed out of the house was Nick bloody O’Rourke laughing his bollocks off at her. Again.

It was her first day in Holloway. She thought she would choke with terror at the sensation of being hemmed-in, shut away. A prison officer at reception checked and logged her belongings, then allowed her to buy two phone cards with her own private cash.

‘Should be just one,’ said the officer. ‘But as you’re new in, two, okay?’

Then she was strip-searched for the first time, adding indignity to fear, and locked in a room with six other prisoners. Three of them were heroin users, one of which had turned on her violent boyfriend, nearly braining him with a candlestick, and she joked that his head was so hard it had broken the bloody thing, and she was sorry about that because the candlestick had been a gift from her mother.

One of the others was an intimidatingly tall, twenty-stone Jamaican woman with dreadlocks and a bass-baritone voice, called Mercy. She’d been done for importing cocaine and spoke in a fast patois that Lily at first struggled to comprehend. After a while, she developed an ear for it, and could
talk to Mercy and understand her fully. Mercy had three kids at home in Jamaica, and had taken the coke with her on her first-ever trip to England because she had been told that if she didn’t, her eleven-year-old son would be killed.

‘
Do you know if he’s safe now?’ Lily had asked her later on.

‘He’s in hiding with his grandma,’ said Mercy, and Lily thought then that her own life had been a picnic compared to this poor woman’s. After that, they each had a rudimentary health check and then Lily was pronounced ‘processed’ and was put on D3, the intake wing, in a four-bed dormitory.

Like boarding school,
she thought.

‘It true you killed your old man?’ asked one of the heroin junkies in the dorm. The girl had told Lily she’d decided not to sign on to the methadone programme because she said they were all loony-tunes in the hospital wing: she’d tried it before and she wasn’t trying it again. She’d rather go cold turkey.

Lily didn’t answer. She was blank-faced with shock at finding herself here, inside.

The heroin girl took her silence as an admission of guilt. They’d all read about the case in the papers; many of them had been the victims of violent husbands, boyfriends, pimps, and Lily had turned the tables. Struck a blow for the sisterhood.

‘
Hey girl
– respect,’
said her cellmate with a grin.

Lily sprang awake next morning wondering:
Where the hell am I?
She’d dreamed again. Back inside.
Fucking
dreams. But now she was lying in a comfy double bed, and sunlight was filtering through the closed curtains, and her first thought was that this was a different dream, another illusion, and that at any moment she would
really
wake up, and she would be in stir, forever in stir, on a hard bunk bed with a stained mattress and scratchy blankets and snoring cellmates for company. Ready to face the indignity all over again. The degradation, the dire prison food eaten at trestle tables on cheap, uncomfortable chairs, the need to fill the day before lights out and the sweet release of sleep.

But no. Here she was. She was
out.
Her mind ran back over the events of the past two days. Becks telling her to go – and the relief on her face last night when Lily and the boys had pitched up and collected her things. Joe skulking in the background – keeping out of it; not wanting to get involved. And who could blame him? Jack Rackland, sitting on a bench with her in the park, watching kiddies play…oh, and
her
kids, her beautiful girls, and then – and this was so painful, so awful – Saz’s face twisted with hate as she’d launched herself at Lily, knocking her flying.

Lily turned over in the bed, groaning, pulling the pillow over her head, trying to block out the image.

Oh, and more of them. Nick O’Rourke laughing at her last night, Nick O’Rourke kissing her. She paused over that. Relived for a moment the old, delicious sensations. But no. She couldn’t trust him. She couldn’t trust
anyone.
So what if he’d ferried her off to this neat, unshowy safe flat? So what if the kitchenette cupboards were well stocked with food. So what if she found wearable women’s clothes in the wardrobe, and a man’s, too – what was this, a little love-nest for Nick and some tart? She thought his marriage to Julia had ended long since, she’d heard that somewhere. Probably from Becks.

All right, he’d done all this for her, but she
still
couldn’t trust him.

Furthermore, she was potless. She hadn’t a bean. Very soon, she was going to have to get her hands on some substantial cash, set herself back up on her feet, get Jack paid and pointed in the right direction. It was going to be a challenge, but she thought:
I can do this.

A buzzer went off, very loud. Lily stiffened and emerged from beneath the pillow.
What the fuck?
she thought, her heart freezing in panic.

The buzzer sounded again, not muffled by the goose-down pillow this time. Very loud indeed. Lily sat bolt upright, pulling the long faded lavender-coloured t-shirt she’d grabbed out of the closet to wear in bed further down, hunching her knees up to her chest. She looked around her with wild, frightened eyes. Where was it coming from? It sounded again,
and she pinpointed it. There was a telephone intercom on the wall. Someone was downstairs, leaning on the doorbell.

Oh shit.

Who the hell could it be?

She glanced at the clock beside the bed. It was ten past nine: she’d slept late. She’d been worn out. Now her pulse was hammering away as the fear picked up where it had left off last night. It would be Freddy or Si; they’d tracked her down and if she opened the door they’d kill her.

The buzzer sounded again.

Gulping, crossing her arms over herself for comfort, Lily left the bed and went over to the intercom. Yeah, it would be them. For sure. They’d found her. But…what if it wasn’t them? What if it was Nick, how big a laugh would that give him, hard-hearted murderess Lily King quivering with fear from a doorbell?

She stood beside the damned thing and took a deep, deep breath. She reached out, feeling sick with terror, and picked it up.

‘Hello?’ she said unsteadily into the phone. ‘Who’s there?’

There was silence. Traffic passing by, someone breathing.

Oh God oh help, it’s them, it’s them…

‘Hello?’ she repeated, feeling cold sweat break out all over her body. Because she’d just told them, hadn’t she?, that she was there. She shouldn’t have spoken. Shouldn’t have picked the damned thing up. What was she thinking? Was she completely mad?

There was nothing to be heard but the breathing. Fast, frantic breathing.

Oh for God’s sake just say or do something,
she thought.
Break the bloody door down, just get it over with. I don’t care any more.

Then an unsteady female voice said: ‘It’s…it’s Oli. It’s Oli.’

Lily sagged against the wall in shock. Oli, her baby girl…

Then she had a nasty thought. ‘Are you alone, Oli?’ Maybe she had Uncle Si with her, maybe this was a blind, a way in, Oli playing Trojan horse for the King brothers. Maybe Oli hated her just as much as Saz did. And why shouldn’t she? God knew she had reason.

‘Of course I’m alone,’ said Oli, in a voice that sounded on the edge of tears.

Do I believe her?
thought Lily.
Do I dare?

She leaned back against the wall beside the intercom. Reached out a hand, pressed the release. She had to take the chance. She
had
to.

‘Come on up,’ she said, dry-mouthed with fear.

The first thing that Lily thought when she opened the door and saw Oli standing there – alone, and thank God for that – was, oh my God, my baby, how she’s grown up. She felt an almost overpowering urge to hug Oli, to hold her close. Lily’s second thought was that Oli looked distraught, and that she didn’t look as if she wanted to be held or hugged. In fact, she looked like she was about to freak. Lily held herself firmly in check.

Oli came inside and Lily shut the door and locked it after her. Then she turned, leaning against the door for support, thinking
my baby, my baby
as Oli turned and looked at her with Leo’s dark blue eyes, eyes that were only just this side of crazy. Oli’s dark hair, long and wildly curling, was dishevelled. She was wearing pale denim jeans and a white puff-sleeved blouse and had about her that same old aura of litheness, of intense nervous energy.

Oli the tomboy. She’d always favoured trousers over dresses – unlike the more stately, feminine Saz – and was always off climbing trees, playing cowboys, camping out in the garden, doing wild, boyish things, while Saz petted her pony and shot clays with Leo.

Lily took a breath. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ she said, and Oli nodded absently and flopped down into the nearest chair, immediately starting to pick at the arm of it with long, nimble fingers. Her nails were bitten, Lily noticed as her gaze moved avidly over her daughter, taking in every precious inch of her. Oli’s skin was still fine, lightly tanned, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her turned-up nose. Her pouting rosebud mouth was unadorned by lipstick. Her lashes were long, her brows black and slightly bushy. She glanced up at Lily and Lily thought,
Oh she’s so pretty. Those beautiful dark blue eyes are going to break a few hearts.

Leo’s eyes,
she thought more soberly. Saz had been the real daddy’s girl of the family, but Oli had loved her dad too, so much. And what must she think of her mother, who she believed had killed him?

Lily sat down cautiously, quite a way from Oli; she didn’t want to panic her, make her bolt for the door. Oli looked as if she was on a knife-edge, not certain whether to stay or go.

‘How did you find me here?’ Lily asked her.

Oli made a flicking movement of her hand. ‘I followed you. I…I wanted to see what you…I’ve been trying not to, but I wanted to see you, so I went over to your mate Becky’s place after I’d heard Uncle Si and Aunt Maeve saying you were staying there…’

Jesus God,
thought Lily. Oli had found her so easily. And so had Si and Freddy.

‘And when I got there, I bottled it.’ Oli stopped talking and clutched at her head with both hands, mucking up her hair even more. It was sticking out in all directions. ‘I just…I couldn’t come in. I sat in the car. It was getting darker. I didn’t know what to do. And then you arrived with some men, and you all went in there, and I still couldn’t get up the nerve to come in…’ She gulped and rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes like a tired child. Then she dropped her arms and looked at Lily. ‘It’s funny, I thought if I ever saw you again I wouldn’t know you, but I did, I knew you straight away when I saw you standing outside the church. Don’t you think that’s odd?’

Lily didn’t answer.

‘When you all came out of Becky’s, I followed the car. At a distance. I was careful the men didn’t see me. I parked over the road. Then they went away, and the lights were still on up here, so I thought, I’ll go over, she’s alone, I can talk to her, ask her why she did it.’

‘Oli—’ said Lily.

‘But I couldn’t!’ Oli let out a wild little laugh. ‘I bottled it again. Then the lights went out. And I thought, all right, I’ll wait until morning.’

‘You’ve been sitting out in the car all night?’ Lily asked.

Oli nodded, wrapping her arms harder around her body, her feet tapping on the floor, her movements frenetic, jittery.

Again Lily had to quash the urge to hug her. Instead she stood up. ‘Let’s have a cup of tea, and some toast, and we’ll both start to feel a bit better.’

She went into the little kitchenette and made the tea, found bread in the freezer and put four slices in the toaster. Then she found butter, jam, milk, cups, plates, cutlery, put it all on a tray and came back into the small sitting area. She put
the tray on the coffee table, poured out the tea, buttered the toast and slathered jam on it. Then she pushed a mug and plate over to Oli.

‘Here. For God’s sake eat something and drink some tea, you must be frozen.’

‘What, playing mother? It’s a bit late for that,’ said Oli sharply.

Lily flinched, but she knew how Oli must be hurting. She had to soak it up. ‘Better late than never I s’pose,’ she said lightly, and started in on the toast although she was almost choking with nerves. Her daughter, her lovely little Oli, was sitting right here in front of her, looking as though she might leg it at any second, but she was
here,
thank God, she was here.

Lily swigged down some tea; it steadied her a little. She could see the food and drink having a similar effect on Oli, although she was only nibbling at the toast, she was too uptight to relish it.

‘They said…’ Oli’s eyes suddenly filled with tears as she spoke. ‘Aunt Maeve said he was having an affair with that horrible woman, that Adrienne Thomson. And that he’d been hitting you.’ A tear spilled over and ran down Oli’s face. She pushed her hands into her hair. ‘You know, I don’t remember much of what happened when Dad…when he died, or when you were taken away.’

‘Much?’ queried Lily.

‘All right, I don’t remember
anything
around that time. Except that you were both there…and then you were gone.’ She threw her half-eaten toast down and shoved the plate away. ‘I can’t eat this.’

Lily pushed hers away too. Her throat had closed as she saw the misery in Oli’s eyes. ‘Oli,’ she said urgently. ‘I didn’t do it.’

‘What?’
Oli was looking at her open-mouthed. Then she shook her head. ‘You were tried and convicted. You were
found guilty.
’

Lily was shaking her head. ‘No…’

‘Yes,’
said Oli, shouting now. Now the tears were falling, she was sobbing, nearly hysterical. ‘I never saw him hit you. Not once. Saz never saw that either. That was a lie.’

‘Oh Jesus, Oli…’ Despite herself, Lily found herself reaching out, trying to bridge the huge, horrible gulf between them.

‘Don’t you touch me!’ Oli snapped, cringing back.

Lily held up both hands and slowly drew back.
Okay, okay.

‘I didn’t do it, Oli. That’s the truth. Someone fitted me up for it. That’s the truth too. I would never, ever have done such a thing to you. I would have slit my own throat first, Oli. I promise you that.’

Oli was silent now, watching her. She swiped a hand over her eyes. Picked up the mug of tea and sipped it, tried to gather herself.

Poor little cow,
thought Lily.
How the hell has she managed to cope with this?
No mother. Her father dead. And the horror of knowing what had happened to bring all that about. Oli was eighteen, a young adult now; but in her eyes Lily could see nothing but the frightened, bewildered child she had been back then.

‘The silly thing is,’ said Oli finally, ‘I want to believe you.’

Lily took a gasping breath. Oh, Jesus, could she make this right? Could it really be possible? She didn’t dare believe it, not yet. But she could see that Oli was having doubts. And if she was clever enough,
cunning
enough, then she could open that tiny crack in Oli’s armour, get inside and win her daughter back.

Saz would be quite another matter. But Saz wasn’t here.
She’d have to face that particular battle later, and she wasn’t looking forward to it at all.

‘They on honeymoon? Saz and…what’s his name, the groom?’ she asked.

‘South of France. Only for a week,’ said Oli, her eyes fixed on Lily’s face. ‘Richard’s got work to get back to: he works in the business for Uncle Si and Freddy. Him and Saz are going to move into our place when they get back.’

‘Ah.’ Lily knew that ‘the business’ covered a multitude of sins–literally. Ask any of the King brothers or Nick O’Rourke where they earned the vast amounts of dosh to pay for mansions, fast cars, holidays in the Caribbean and extremely high-maintenance blonde girlfriends and wives, and they would say ‘import and export’. It was only true insofar as ‘the business’ was a blind for other, more lucrative and less law-abiding activities.

‘Oli,’ said Lily. ‘I’d like to come home.’

Oli stared at her mother, her expression at first puzzled and then, as she took in the full meaning of what Lily had just said, horrified. ‘You
what?
’

Lily decided it was time to start milking it. ‘I can’t stay here. It’s strictly temporary, one night only, a favour from Nick. Becks and Joe don’t want me there. I’ve got nowhere to go to, Oli. Nowhere at all.’

It wasn’t true, and she hated lying to Oli, but fuck it. She wanted to go back to her own home. She
had
to go back there. She was prepared to kick any obstacle out of the way to achieve that goal, too. Up to and including Maeve and even Si King–somehow. She didn’t know how yet. Si King wasn’t so much an obstacle as a fucking great concrete wall, but somehow she was going to have to break the bastard down. If he didn’t break
her
down first.