by Martina Cole
‘Straight up. Don’t let this go because it’s pretty much the only chance you’ll get.’
‘What else could we do then?’
Geraldine relaxed, unsure why this woman allowing her to help made her feel so good inside herself. So right.
‘Hospital reports state he gave you a venereal disease and you lost a child. He kicked other children out of your belly. He attacked you constantly. If I use that I can get you out and no one need ever know the truth. Even his own mother is willing to testify about Barry and what he really was. I promise you, I can get you out on time served if I really let rip with details of his past life.’
Susan smiled.
‘Kate hated him, bless her.’
She sat down at the table and stared at Geraldine.
‘Will they look at the forensic evidence closely, do you think? The prosecution, I mean.’
Geraldine was thrown by the question.
‘They’ll bring into play the fact you hit him repeatedly with a hammer, yes. That’s all they had, really, the way the attack was carried out. But I can get a psychiatrist to say that it was a one off act of retaliation brought on by years of abuse. Which is what it was, wasn’t it?’
Susan nodded absently.
‘But the forensic evidence . . . will they have kept things? You know, samples and that?’
‘What is it with the forensics? All the reports state is that Barry was hit repeatedly with a hammer. We know that already. What we need now is some serious damage limitation to make that fact irrelevant. You must come across as a woman still in shock at her own trial. One who felt she deserved to go away for taking a life. Even though that life was hardly worth getting in a bloody lather about in the first place.’
Susan looked at her and grinned.
‘I like you, you’re all right.’
Geraldine laughed back.
‘I like you too actually. I had a feeling I would.’
Colin watched them and once more marvelled at women’s instinctive empathy with one another.
‘So what you’re telling me is, we tell them the truth but not the whole truth. Is that it?’
‘In a nutshell, yes.’
‘But the forensics - will they look at them and try and find something else?’
‘Such as?’ Colin’s voice was exasperated.
Susan shrugged.
‘I don’t know, do I? You’re the experts.’
Geraldine looked into her face.
‘Is there something else they could find?’
Susan didn’t answer her directly. ‘Are you really doing this for nothing?’
Geraldine shrugged.
‘Roselle says she’ll pay. But we’ll see. If I lose, I won’t charge a halfpenny. How’s that?’
Susan looked her over, from her hand-made shoes to her expensive haircut, and sighed inside.
‘Go on then, you’ve convinced me.’
Which was something Geraldine O’Hara had never had to do in her life before. People usually begged her to take their cases; that was how things were done in her world. You had the experience so you charged for it. Yet here was a convicted murderess doing her a favour by taking on her expertise, her knowledge, her time.
Geraldine laughed inside and out.
‘You’re on.’
Susan put her head in her hands and thought of Wendy and Rosie and Barry and Alana. Her four children, so different and yet so alike. She had to get back to them and this good-looking woman with the nice smile sounded like she could arrange that.
Wendy needed help. Those words were filling her brain. What Wendy needed, what they all needed, was their mother. It was time Susan Dalston allowed herself to go home.
Matty sat in the punishment cell on the block. She had no access to writing materials, books or radios. It didn’t bother her. She sat on the bunk, day in and day out, without moving.
The night screw opened the cell door. She was a thin woman with angular features and a weakness for Danielle Steele novels. Matilda Enderby was worrying her.
‘Can I get you a cup of coffee or anything?’
Matty stared at her as if she didn’t know who she was.
‘Sorry?’
‘You heard. Do you want a coffee or not?’
‘No, thank you. I’m fine.’
The other woman walked from the cell and locked it. At least she had tried. She could get back to her other world now, full of sexy women and intrigue.
Matty stared at the graffiti on the walls and smiled. Some of it was quite amusing in an ignorant and filthy way.
She tried to concentrate on it, but all she saw was Victor, poor Victor standing in front of her, begging her to tell him why she was so unhappy. Why she was so awkward. So nasty to him. Asking her to explain what was making her so miserable. The bewildered look in his eyes as he ran his hands through his hair in agitation.
She had felt the knife underneath the tea towel. Knowing it was there, waiting for her, had given her such a good feeling. As he had followed her she had caressed it, knowing she had the power of life or death. It was such a heady feeling. Oh, she had done her homework all right. Once through the heart. One thrust, the act of a desperate woman. She had seen the doctor, shown him her bruising. Told him of her husband’s cruelty. His tempers.
Victor had looked so shocked when she stabbed him. Kneeling on the floor in front of her, his face so pained, so white. She had thought he would never die. Even when he was lying on the white-tiled floor, the blood pooling around him, she had thought he would survive. She had stood over him for ten minutes, making sure he was dead.
She wasn’t taking any chances.
Then that last horrible gurgling noise. That had been terrible.
She had made herself a drink, a stiff G&T, drunk it down then picked up the phone and screamed and hollered into it.
The performance of a lifetime.
She had told her story to dozens of journalists, made herself a figurehead for battered women. And now Angela had turned up. That fat bitch was out to get her. Make her lose control, make her attack Sarah.
Matty would have to think up something good for Angela, something she would not be expecting. Give her something special, like she had her mother.
The thought made her smile.
Maybe a fire . . . fire was cleansing. And Angela needed cleansing. She had always had a dirty mind, a dirty mouth.
Matty got up off the bunk and banged on the cell door. The screw hurried down. This prisoner was on suicide watch.
‘I will have that coffee now, please. I’m suddenly feeling much better.’
The screw smiled at her in friendly fashion.
‘Could you eat something, do you think?’
She had not eaten for days and was suddenly ravenous.
‘I think I might just manage a few mouthfuls.’
‘A sandwich, perhaps?’
Matty laughed happily.
‘Barbecue chicken springs to mind but a sandwich would be wonderful.’
Chapter Thirty
Roselle picked up Wendy from the home. As she walked through the double doors she felt the usual sadness as she saw the kids milling around. All colours, all creeds, all unwanted. It was heartbreaking. These young minds were well aware they were not valued. You could see it on their faces, in their walk, in their actions. Sullen teenagers smoking cigarettes; younger children sitting around the house and grounds just watching the world go by. Knowing it was something they would never be able to join. Not really, not fully.
They had already been tainted, were already used to being overlooked unless they did something to get themselves attention. Something senseless and violent or self-destructive.
This could so easily have been the fate of Sue’s children except that whatever else happened to them they knew their mother adored them.
Roselle walked to the office and knocked gently on the door.
Mrs Eappen’s voice called disdainfully, ‘Wait there.’
Rosel
le knew she could see through the glass who it was. She also knew Mrs Eappen was not at all sure about her. About her car, her clothes, her expensive watch. She knew she upset Mrs Eappen’s ideas about right and wrong. Roselle wondered how the woman always managed to put her on the defensive, made her accent much stronger. She found herself saying ‘geezer’ and ‘mate’, words she’d never use at any other time. It wasn’t even her own accent, for Christ’s sake.
She was kept waiting nearly five minutes until she was summoned with a one-word command.
‘Enter.’
Walking into the room she was transported back to her school days once more. She felt she was in trouble though she knew that was absurd. She was a grown woman, not a kid. But the Mrs Eappens of this world made a point of treating everyone as if they were twelve years old.
The woman looked her over in that cold, critical way she had.
‘Ah, Miss Digby.’
The ‘Miss’ was emphasised as if any woman of her age without a ‘Mrs’ to her name was an out and out failure.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Drop dead’ sprang to Roselle’s mind but she knew how to play this game.
‘I’m here to pick up Wendy Dalston as usual. I thought today I’d take her for tea at Claridge’s then maybe on to Regent Street for a bit of shopping. I know she’s really looking forward to that.’
Her accent was atrocious. She knew it and it pleased her, especially when Mrs Eappen closed her eyes in obvious distress.
‘Quite. You do realise that after her ordeal she’s still tired and somewhat depressed?’
‘Not after today she won’t be, I can assure you of that. I also have a VO with my name on it and hers. So she’ll see her mother and all.’
Roselle had saved the best till last and had the satisfaction of seeing the other woman pale. As Mrs Eappen opened her mouth to speak again Roselle walked from the tiny cluttered office, with its pictures of Pooh Bear on the walls and its charts on the kids’ progress in red and black marker pen.
Mrs Eappen treated the children in her care as objects as opposed to young people and that was always going to be her mistake.
Wendy was sitting forlornly in the reception area. Roselle watched her for a second. She looked like a grown woman sitting there in her jeans and black T shirt, even with no make up and her glorious hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. Seeing Roselle, her face lit up in a smile.
As they walked out to the car Debbie got out of a cab. She looked better than she had for months. The strained look had gone from her face and the fine lines around her eyes looked more like laughter lines now. Her face had a jolly appearance to it.
‘All right, love. Off out, are you?’
Wendy nodded and introduced the two women. Roselle was aware of being looked over by a pair of shrewd blue eyes.
‘Heard a lot about you, Roselle. I’m Susan’s sister, as if you didn’t know.’
Debbie’s words told Roselle she’d guessed more than she had heard and wasn’t in the least bothered.
‘It took me a while to get around to seeing the kids but at least I’m here now . . .’
It was the nearest Debbie would ever come to an apology for leaving them alone for so long.
Roselle smiled.
‘Where are you taking them?’
‘Round my house. I thought I’d give them a day in the garden. The summer’s nearly over. I thought I’d do them a bit of grub, let them have a laze about. It’s nice where I live. Quiet like.’
Roselle nodded.
‘I have a VO. Me and this one here are going to see her mother to talk her into letting a new brief help her. That’s if she hasn’t already been convinced, of course.’
Debbie nodded.
‘Susan told me about her. I got a letter yesterday. She seems right on it if that’s any consolation. Seeing a light at the end of the tunnel was how she put it.’
Wendy was quiet throughout the exchange but neither of the women realised that. They were too busy sizing each other up.
‘Well, have a good day.’
Debbie grinned.
‘I will. I missed a lot of time with them kids and I intend to make up for it.’
Roselle smiled sadly.
‘They’re a nice bunch, if I say it myself.’
They parted happily. Roselle watched the dumpy little woman with the fat legs practically racing up the drive to get to her nieces and nephew.
Wendy was settled in the car before she spoke.
‘Me mum won’t let the truth come out. Not for anyone.’
Roselle looked at her, eyes suddenly tired.
‘Your mum will do what she’s told for once. Now let’s get going and have a nice day, eh?’
She drove out of the home but the shine had somehow been taken off the day. Wendy looked haunted again, depressed.
Roselle made a big concession and put on Radio One. She knew the girl liked the latest pop songs. Hopefully they would cheer her up.
Matty came off the block to a sea of faces. She looked around her at the girls and women she had helped, given advice to, and wondered at their resilience. That they were still concerned for her even after what she had done.
Sarah watched her warily, her eyes bleak but unclouded by drugs.
Matty smiled and waved at the girl and saw her visibly relax.
Grudges could be nurtured in a prison environment, could escalate into violent episodes at the drop of a hat. With nothing else to think about, especially on the block, feuds were commonplace. The Mattys of this world made life difficult. Everyone was wary of her and others like her. They sensed people like that didn’t really need a reason to be violent. Anything could trigger them off.
Susan had the cell in pristine condition and this made Matty smile.
‘I’ve been cleaning all bleeding morning.’
Susan’s voice was high. She was nervous and for some reason this depressed Matty even more. She looked around her, as she knew she was expected to, and smiled in charming fashion.
‘It’s as if I was never away.’
Susan snorted.
‘You wouldn’t have thought that earlier! It looked like a bomb had hit the place. But you know me, mate, what you see is what you get!’
Rhianna came in then and filled the small space even further.
‘I was in the gym, I just heard you was back.’
Her thin face looked eagerly at Matty who saw true friendship there.
‘How’s Sarah?’ she asked.
Rhianna shrugged.
‘Took the can for it, as expected. Said she wound you up, was out of it and caused a fight. The usual.’
Matty nodded slowly.
‘I guessed as much. They don’t tell you anything, do they? I still don’t know whether they’re going to charge me or not.’
Rhianna smiled.
‘No chance. The girl’s not stupid. She’s done her stuff. There’ll be no comebacks.’
Matty was quiet for a moment.
‘Maybe. We’ll see.’
Rhianna and Susan looked at one another. This was not what they’d expected.
‘You okay, Matty? You need anything?’
‘Believe it or not, I just need a bit of peace and quiet. I want to write a letter.’
The other two grinned.
‘Who to?’
Matty looked at them seriously.
‘My sister.’
‘I never knew you had a sister?’ Rhianna’s voice was high with disbelief.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me, ladies. But I expect you’ll find out one day, if I’m not careful.’
Matty laughed then and the two women laughed with her. But both of them knew that whatever they were laughing at it wasn’t in the least bit funny. Not really. Rhianna pulled Susan gently from the cell, leaving Matty to her letter writing. They sat in Rhianna’s cell and stared at one another.
‘She’s different again, ain’t she?’ Susan commented.
Rh
ianna nodded.
‘She, if you don’t mind me saying, is madder than the maddest person who was ever mad. You can practically feel the animosity coming out of her pores. Aren’t you nervous, Sue? I would be.’
‘Not a lot I can do, is there? But that sister has rattled her cage by the sound of it. Let’s hope her letter writing eases her mind. I’ve enough on me plate without worrying about Matty.’
Rhianna shook her head.
‘The sooner you get an appeal date, the better.’
Susan hugged herself with delight.
‘I think I really may be in with a chance with this Geraldine bird. I wonder how Matty will react to me having her on my case as well?’
Rhianna didn’t answer. But she had a feeling that the mood Matty was in, she wasn’t going to be too pleased.
‘You be careful, Susan. Keep an eye out. When Matty’s like this she’s capable of anything.’
Susan shrugged good-naturedly.
‘She’ll be all right once she gets back in the swing of things. And Sarah’s saved a lot of hag, hasn’t she? Holding her hand up like that. Matty will get over it in time. Like we all do.’
Rhianna didn’t answer.
Susan’s head was full of thoughts of Wendy and Roselle. She was about to see the friend she hadn’t clapped eyes on for over two years. She couldn’t wait for this visit. It was going to be brilliant.
‘Anyway, I’ve got me girl in today and me best mate, Roselle. I ain’t seen her in the flesh for so long I feel all excited at the prospect. I want to take a good gander at her, see how the last few years have treated her.’
Rhianna was caught up in Susan’s enthusiasm.
‘Roselle who? You’re always talking about her, I know the name.’
‘Roselle Digby. She lives in Soho.’
Rhianna looked impressed.
‘Not the Roselle Digby, runs that club in Dean Street?’
The tone of her voice said it all and Susan laughed.
‘The very same. Me and her go back quite a few years now. She’s a fucking good mate. It’s her offered to pay for this Geraldine bird, though she says she’ll do the case for nix if necessary.’
‘I’ll bet. You’ll get her press coverage and kudos, remember that.’ Rhianna was impressed, though, and it showed. ‘You should have let your secret out long ago. You’d have been treated like visiting Royalty in here with her on your case.’