She's Out

by Lynda La Plante

  “You’re bleedin’ late,” he muttered.

  “I had to get a train, missed the tube, waited fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh shuddup. Every time you come I got to listen to a bleedin’ travelogue of how you got here. You get me some fags?”

  “Yes.”

  “Books? Any cash?”

  “Yeah, in me left sleeve, can you feel it?”

  Eddie leaned over and kissed her as he slipped his hand up her sleeve and palmed the money. “How much?”

  “Sixty quid, and that’s cleaned me out. I got to pick up me giro.”

  “Where’ve you been? I called the house three times.” Eddie opened the cigarettes and lit one, looking around the room at the men and their visitors. The racket was deafening.

  “The council have given me my marching orders for non-payment of rent.”

  “Oh, great! What you let them do that for?”

  “Could be because I’ve not got any cash and that Mrs. Rheece downstairs is a bloody moron. She let them in, found that bloke kipping down and so they said I was sublettin’.”

  “What bloke?”

  “You know, him with the squint, friend of your brother’s. I asked him to leave an’ all but he wouldn’t. Pain in the arse, he is.”

  “So where’ve you been stayin’?”

  “I’m near Aylesbury, with some friends. You don’t know them, Eddie. I wish you wouldn’t grill me every time I come, it gets on my nerves.”

  “Who you staying with then?”

  She sighed. “Ester Freeman, you don’t know her. She did time with me. Julia Lawson, she was also in Holloway, Kathleen O’Reilly, a stupid cow called Connie and—”

  “Ester Freeman? They all tarts then, are they?”

  “No, they’re not. Dolly Rawlins, she’s there.”

  “Oh yeah, Dolly Rawlins, yeah, I remember Harry. So what you all there for?”

  “For God’s sake, I needed a place to doss down, all right? So we’re all sort of helping Dolly out until—”

  “Until what?”

  Gloria flushed. “I always get a headache in here. They should keep the kids to another section.”

  Eddie reached out and gripped her wrist. “I said, what are you doing there?”

  She wrenched her wrist free and rubbed it. “Word is, she’s got some diamonds stashed and we’re, well, we’re waiting for her to get them.”

  “And then what?”

  She smiled. “Well, we want a cut and if she doesn’t like it, we’re gonna take it. But you keep your mouth shut about it.”

  “Who would I tell?” he said bitterly.

  She touched his hand. “You’ll have some nice things, I’ll get you anything you want, Eddie.”

  He pulled his hand away. “Who’s looking after my guns?”

  Gloria looked round nervously, then leaned close to whisper, “They’re still out in the coal hut. I ain’t touched them.”

  Eddie closed his eyes. “Brilliant! You’re not even at the fuckin’ house, that idiot bloke is hanging around and I got thirty grand’s worth of gear stashed out back. You fuckin’ out of your mind, Gloria?”

  “I don’t want anythin’ to do with them. I get picked up again and that’s me for ten years, Eddie. It’s too dangerous.”

  “You listen to me, slag, you move them out of that place. I’ll get you a decent contact, you’ll flog them when I say so, understand me? You move them, you do that, Gloria. Get the gear, stash it where you’re staying with all the tarts, then I’ll get my friends to contact you. Gimme the number there.”

  “I can’t, the phone’s not connected, Eddie, on my mother’s life.”

  He swore and then the bell rang for the first section of visitors to move out. He gripped her hand tightly. “Just get them. Then next time you come I’ll arrange for you to meet someone. You do it, Gloria, they’re all I got left in the world, them and you, so I’m depending on you, understand me?”

  He drew her toward him and they kissed. She always felt like crying when he did that but this afternoon she was too much on edge, having gone and told him about Dolly Rawlins. For a second she hoped he’d forgotten but he suddenly smiled. “And if that cow don’t want to part with her diamonds, you got the gear to make her, haven’t you? Use them, sweetheart. You get me some dough and we’ll go abroad, have a nice holiday when I get out.”

  The officers were pointing for him to go back to the corridor outside and be returned to his cell.

  “I love you, Eddie,” she said softly.

  “I should hope so, Gloria. Ta-ra, see you next week.”

  He smiled wryly as he walked after the prison officer. He’d got eighteen years and there he was talking about when they would go on a bloody holiday together. She’d be in a Zimmer frame by the time he got out.

  Dolly paid off the taxi and carried her purchases inside the manor. Ester’s Range Rover was nowhere to be seen. She went straight to her bedroom and sorted out what she would wear for the afternoon, then started to pack her few things. She would leave without a goodbye and then get the check stopped. She swore at herself: she should have done that as soon as she came home. Dolly headed down the stairs as Ester breezed in, waving a big brown envelope.

  “Hi! They said you’d left when I went to the town hall so I did a grocery shop. Here you go, Dolly, the lease all signed, and now the place is really all yours.”

  “Oh, is it? Well, you can take it and stuff it. I don’t want this place, I don’t want anything to do with you and I’m gonna stop that check.”

  “What?”

  Dolly glared at Ester. “You really did me in, didn’t you? Never thought to mention this place was a brothel.”

  Ester tossed the envelope down. “You knew what I was.”

  “I didn’t know you ran a whorehouse from here, though, did I?”

  “All you had to do was ask.”

  “They all know about this place, they told me at the social services.”

  “So what?”

  “This place has got such a bad reputation. What with that and my record, you think they’ll give us the go-ahead?”

  Dolly was about to walk back up the stairs when Ester yelled, “They’ll be more likely to give you the go-ahead on a place like this that’s crying out for kids than any terraced place in fucking Islington or Holloway—and they cost, Dolly. You’ve been away a long time, any house in that area’s gonna cost you at least a hundred and fifty grand. Here you got beds, furniture, linen, all thrown in, but if you don’t want it, then that’s up to you . . .”

  Julia walked out and leaned on the kitchen door. “She’s right, you know, Dolly. This is a fabulous place for kids.”

  Dolly hesitated. Julia’s soft voice seemed to calm her. “The orchard and the gardens, the pool doesn’t need much doing to it, then you can even get a horse for the stables . . .”

  Ester winked at Julia. “She’s right, Dolly. I mean, each kid would bring in about two hundred a week. I’m right, aren’t I, Julia?”

  “Yep, and then you’d get grants to rebuild and convert . . .”

  Dolly sat down on the stairs, more confused than ever. Ester glanced at her watch. All she needed was a few more hours for the check to go into the system then Dolly couldn’t stop it.

  Dolly frowned. “I got to go to London, let me think about it.”

  “You want a lift, do you? To the station?”

  Dolly nodded, then got up and went to her room.

  “By tomorrow the check will have gone through,” Ester said quietly to Julia. “Where do you think she’s going?”

  “I don’t know, do I?”

  Ester pulled her into the kitchen. “What if she’s going for the diamonds?” She thought for a moment. “You make some excuse, say you got to go to London as well, see where she goes and who she talks to.”

  “Oh, for Chrissakes, Ester, that’s ridiculous. You mean follow her around?”

  “What the hell do you think I mean?”

  By the time Dolly came back
downstairs, Julia was already sitting in the Range Rover.

  “Julia’s got to go and see her mother so she’ll catch the train with you,” Ester explained as Dolly followed her out.

  “She’s still being kept in the lap of luxury by her beloved daughter. She has no idea Julia was even picked up and put in the slammer, never mind that she was a junkie. Julia’s been paying for her for years, she’s in a wheelchair or somethin’, so that’s housekeepers and cleaners and . . . you name it. That’s why Julia’s broke.”

  As soon as Dolly got into the car, she started asking Julia about her mother. “She’s very old, Dolly. I don’t want her to know what a mess I’ve made of my life. It would devastate her.”

  “Where does she think you are, then?” Dolly asked.

  “Well, when I was in Holloway I got friends to send postcards from Malta. She thought I was working over there with the Red Cross.”

  “And now?” Dolly asked.

  “Well, since my release, I told her I’ve been looking for a new practice. She doesn’t know I was struck off—she doesn’t know anything about my life, really.”

  Dolly nodded and looked at her watch: she was going to be late for the meeting with Jimmy Donaldson. She didn’t know how she was going to get all the way to the theme park on time. Well, if he left, he left. She’d just have to rearrange the meeting.

  Connie had asked the cab driver to wait while she hurried into the mansion block. Lennie always left just before lunch, did the rounds of his girls, then checked his club for the previous night’s takings. He would then come home, change and have something to eat. Connie usually cooked him a light meal before running his bath. He would change and leave the flat between eight and eight thirty in the evening, rarely returning until the early morning.

  For Lennie his girls, his club, his Porsche and his well-furnished flat came before any love or relationship. Connie knew that now. She had been with him for three years, cooking, cleaning, keeping his flat spotless. Occasionally she went to the club and they dined out frequently, but then he had started knocking her around and a few times told her to be “very nice” to friends of his. When that became a regular weekly session, she knew that it was all over between them, she was no longer “special.” He was getting ready for a change, as if she was part of the fixtures and fittings.

  He had beaten her up so badly one night, breaking her nose, that he had arranged for her to have plastic surgery. She had her eyes done, her nose remodeled, a cheek implant and a breast implant. At first she had felt wonderful. He had visited her in the clinic and been kind to her when she came home in the bandages. She had believed he’d changed, that perhaps he really did care for her, but when the bandages came off and she admired herself in front of him as he lay in bed, he had said, lighting a cigarette, “Well, now, girl, you can make up the money, seven grand you owe. I reckon you’ve a few more years in you now so you’re going to share with Carol and Leslie.”

  Connie couldn’t believe it. They were two of his girls and he was moving her out and in with them, as if there had been nothing between them. “But, Lennie, I want to try going straight. You know, get a proper agent and do some modeling.”

  He had laughed. “No way. You can earn more for me on your back than doing any bleedin’ cereal advert . . .”

  She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t argued back, afraid he’d maybe whack her. She had simply waited for him to leave at his usual time, then Ester had called her and said she would be free to come to the manor. She had packed fast and run off. Now Connie was back, she let herself in and went straight to the kitchen. She began unplugging all the movable stuff she could lay her hands on. She then went into the bedroom and cleared out her side of the wardrobe. At least she was alone; he hadn’t moved anyone else in yet.

  Lennie’s portable phone was on the stand, recharging. She was so busy filling the suitcase that she didn’t notice it. Lennie never went anywhere without his portable. At that moment he was swearing as he realized he’d forgotten to put it in his pocket, right now doing a U-turn and heading back to the flat to pick it up.

  The cab driver watched the metallic blue Porsche park, and saw the dapper West Indian straighten his draped suit as he headed toward the mansion block. He went back to reading the Sun, after a quick look at the meter. The girl had said she’d be ten minutes but she’d already been gone that. He swore, wondering for a moment if she’d just done a Marquess of Blandford on him and wouldn’t be coming out, but then he saw she had left a bag on the back seat.

  Connie had filled two cases when she heard the front door slam and instantly backed away in terror. He kicked open the bedroom door and looked at her.

  “Hello, Lennie,” she said in a trembling voice. “I was just packing me gear.”

  “I can see that. You missed anything? Like the light fittings?”

  “I’ve not taken anything that wasn’t mine, Lennie.”

  “I gave you the cash for everything you’re standing up in, sweetheart. Now what the fuck do you think you’re doing and where’ve you been?”

  “Near Aylesbury . . . with some friends.” He came closer. “Don’t hurt me, please don’t.”

  He laughed. “Aylesbury? You kiddin’? Who you staying there with?”

  “Dolly Rawlins, you don’t know her, but listen, Lennie, I might be onto a good thing. She’s got diamonds, a lot of diamonds and—” Connie panicked, trying anything to stop him coming closer, pressing herself against the wardrobe, bracing herself for what she knew was coming. She raised her hands in a feeble gesture. “Please don’t hit me in the face, Lennie.”

  The cab driver saw the West Indian guy walk out quickly and roar off in his Porsche. Then Connie came out, waking unsteadily as she carried a suitcase. She was wearing dark glasses and a headscarf. He took the case from her. “You all right, love?”

  “Take me to Marylebone Station, please,” she said, getting into the back seat.

  “Right, the station . . .” He looked at her in the mirror. She had a blood-soaked handkerchief pressed to her face. “You sure you’re okay, love?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you.” She could feel the swelling coming up under her eyes. Her nose was bleeding, but she didn’t think he’d broken it, though her neck was covered in dark red bruises. She thought he was going to kill her, and he had only stopped when she had pretended to be unconscious.

  “Kathleen? Kathleen?” Ester shouted. Kathleen was on her bed. She’d had a few drinks earlier and was now sleeping it off. Ester barged into the room. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

  “What do you want?”

  Ester shut the door. “I think she might be going for the diamonds today. Who do you know that we could trust to fence them?”

  Kathleen lifted her head a little. “Well, it depends, doesn’t it? I mean, they’re still hot but I’ve got a few people I’d trust.”

  Ester was pacing up and down. “If they were valued at God knows how many million when they were nicked almost nine years ago, what do you reckon they’re worth now?”

  “Could be double, it all depends on the quality. Soon as I see them I’ll be able to tell you the best man. When do you reckon that’s going to be, Ester?”

  “I think she’s maybe doing something about them this afternoon.”

  Kathleen sat up, rubbing her head. “Well, shouldn’t someone be with her?”

  “Julia’s on her, I hope.”

  “Have you told Dolly you know about them?”

  Ester shook her head. “No. Let’s just take it one step at a time.”

  “Fine by me, but she’s such a wily old cow she might pick them up and that’s the last we see of her.”

  “No, she’ll be back. All her gear’s still in her room.”

  “Ah, she might be back, but will she be bringin’ back the diamonds?”

  “I bloody hope so. And in the meantime, you just stop nicking the booze,” she added, walking out.

  Kathleen slowly got off the bed. She splas
hed her face with cold water then patted it dry. The photographs of her three daughters were on the dressing table, positioned so she could see them from her bed. They were the last thing she saw at night and the first in the morning: the nine-year-old twins, Kate and Mary, and five-year-old Sheena. They were in care, a convent home, but how long they would remain together Kathleen couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that when she got the cut of the diamonds they were going home, all of them, going back to Dublin. She’d be safe, the cops wouldn’t find her there. “You get the diamonds, Dolly, love,” she whispered to herself. “Pray God you get them before the cops find me.”

  Kathleen, like every one of them, was in trouble. But Kathleen’s problem was not some bloke out to make her a punchbag: a warrant was out for her arrest on two charges of check-card fraud. She had simply not turned up for the hearing and Ester’s invitation to come to the manor not only gave her hope for a lot of cash, but also a safe place to hide.

  Dolly finally found a taxi for the last stage of the journey to Thorpe Park, and Julia was right on her heels, grabbing the next cab in the rank.

  At the theme park Julia concentrated on keeping Dolly in sight, keeping her distance until she saw Dolly heading toward the funfair section.

  What Julia didn’t know was that she wasn’t the only one watching Dolly. Far from it. Unmarked patrol cars and plainclothes officers were positioned at each exit, while a moody Jimmy Donaldson sat in another one. They had arrived at three fifteen and he’d been in the car for over an hour and a half. They were all almost giving up when they got the contact. “Suspect has entered gate C, over.”

  Donaldson was wired up, instructed to move slowly, and told not to approach any of the officers. He would be monitored at all times. He was still fuming that they had not found the diamonds because it meant that some other bugger had, and he spent his time trying to think who could have shifted them. Only Audrey and Dolly had known where they were—and maybe his wife. Could she have moved them? He wished he’d never agreed to the whole thing. It would only be worth it if they got him transferred to a nice, cushy open prison. He’d be safe there. It was, after all, nearly nine bloody years ago, and there’d been renovations in his back yard, so some bastard could have come across the diamonds, he supposed. Dolly Rawlins was a hard-nosed cow but, without her old man, just how much of a threat could she be? It was Harry who had had enough on him to put him behind bars for years. And now he was dead. On the other hand, Dolly was the one who had shot him, so she might decide to have a pop at him, too. Jimmy Donaldson was not a happy man, and getting more and more pissed off by the minute.