Jail Bird

‘Lily, he meant it. You’re staying with Becks and Joe, yes?’

‘Not any more. She’s told me to go.’

‘That’s a damned good idea, for them and for you. Where, though?’

Lily shrugged and slumped further down into the sofa. She felt exhausted with the aftermath of all this shit, and bewildered by Nick’s motives. And bloody angry too: he’d really scared her.

Nick stood up and went to the empty hearth. For such a big man he moved with a panther-like grace – silent and deadly. Which he was, she knew that. He was a hard man and a dangerous one. He’d grown up – like Leo – delving deep into the protection rackets and dabbling in large-scale bootlegging. Then he’d graduated to the criminal equivalent of the Premier League, working with an elite network of tough, trusted men at the highest level, and running rings around the cops and Customs & Excise.

There was a set of keys on the mantelpiece. Nick picked them up and they jingled.

That sound.

One of the older cons had told her she would feel like this. ‘Just the sound of a set of keys jingling is gonna make you jump out of your skin for the rest of your life. You heard how men used to come back after World War One, shell-shocked from the Somme? Anyone so much as popped a cork near them, or a car backfired. They just dived for cover. And that’ll be you, Lily girl. Every time you hear a set of keys.’

Nick tossed the keys into her lap. Lily flinched.

‘There’s a safe flat across town. The boys’ll take you back to Becks’s place to get your things, then take you on over there. All right?’

‘What you doing this for? Guilty conscience?’ asked Lily.

‘What?’

‘Did you…you didn’t have anything to do with Leo’s death, did you?’ she stumbled out.

Nick looked surprised. Then he laughed. ‘That’s a good act, Lily. And that’s a really good line to take, particularly with Si and Freddy King after your blood. So let’s get this right – you were an innocent, banged up by mistake? It was a miscarriage of justice? Someone else did it? Me, maybe? Oh Lily. That’s a bloody good one.’

Lily stood up. She’d been frightened, abused, accosted by her own kin and now the bastard was laughing at her.

‘It’s not funny,’ she snapped.

His laughter stopped suddenly. He moved forward and stood facing her. Suddenly she felt very small.

‘Oh, too right it ain’t. It’s far from that.’ He was staring at her face. ‘Twelve years in stir and you’re still fucking beautiful. How’d you manage that Lily King? So beautiful. And so bloody deadly, too.’

‘I didn’t do it,’ said Lily through gritted teeth.

‘Yeah, that’s a good one. I’d stick with that if I were you.’

Now Lily was getting mad. She lashed out, wanting to wipe that smirk off his face. He caught her wrist, held her there.

‘Now don’t start that with me,’ he advised. ‘If you hit me, I swear to you, I’ll hit back, and you know what? I can hit a lot harder than you. So don’t do it.’

Lily was silent, fuming, her eyes glinting with temper. He was hurting her wrist, but she wouldn’t say so. She’d die first.

‘I didn’t do it,’ she said again. ‘And I’m going to prove it’s the truth.’

‘Ha! Lily, you did it. I knew you. You were a shy, quiet girl and all I can think is that Leo pushed you too far, pushed you beyond reason, and you finally snapped.’

‘You think I killed your best friend? Truly? Then you ought to hate me for that.’

‘Yeah.’ Nick was staring at her thoughtfully. ‘You’re right. I should.’

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Lily didn’t struggle: she was too stunned to do that. She kept very still and tried not to respond. She couldn’t afford to let him see even a tiny bit of softness or pliability in her; she had to stay tough, stay in control. But – hell – it was difficult. It had been a long, dry time in prison. And if Nick was helping her – God knew why, she’d try to figure it out, if she could – then maybe she’d be wise to exploit any weakness for her he might still have.

He pulled back, and stood there looking at her from inches away. ‘You know what I’d like to do now?’ he said.

Lily gulped. Her lips were throbbing, and other parts were too. She shook her head.

‘I’d like to take you upstairs,’ he said, then his mouth tilted up in a cynical smile. ‘And I would – if it wasn’t for fear that I might wake up with what’s left of my brains splattered all over the room.’

‘You bastard,’ said Lily. ‘I told you…’

‘Yeah, that you didn’t do it.’ There was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He let go of her wrist, pushed her firmly back, away from him.

Lily told herself she was glad about that. Keep strong, she told herself. Keep focused. It was hard though. ‘I’ll show you,’ she said. ‘I’ll prove it.’

‘Look, Lily, don’t show me anything and don’t try to prove anything to me, I’m not biting, okay? Just keep out of trouble, or I promise I am going to give you such a seeing-to one of these days.’

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.

14

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.

15

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?’

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