by Jessie Keane
Then, prison. Oh shit, so long in prison. Seven years in Holloway, two in Durham, one in New Hall, then the last two in Askham Grange. Being confined without everything she knew, everything she loved. Her kids torn from her, the boredom and the low, simmering anger because she knew she’d done nothing. She’d contacted her brief, asked should she appeal? He’d said certainly, yes; but the appeal had been turned down. So she stayed there, powerless, marking off the days, the weeks, the years.
And – finally – freedom. But not the total freedom she craved; this was a freedom still hemmed about with limitations. Seeing probation officers. Walking on eggshells, not wanting to do anything that might take her back inside. She was still not completely free, not free as she defined it. She was going to have to win that freedom for herself, bit by painful bit, piece her life back together and find the bastard who’d done Leo and let her hang out to dry for it.
Now she was outside the door to the master suite once again. And even though logic told her that there was nothing inside there that could hurt her, no ghosts, nothing, even so she stood there and felt sweat erupt all over her body at the thought of going inside.
But she had to. She had to.
Lily gulped and steeled herself to do it. She reached out and opened the door. With a moan she pushed it wide open, expecting the horror to replay, Leo lying there, what remained of him, unrecognizable, but unquestionably Leo. Gold rings on his stubby fingers, the familiar old white scar on his left wrist, the thick gold chain around his neck mingling with the blood and the bits of mangled flesh.
But there was nothing.
She stepped inside. Before she could lose her nerve and run she quickly relocked the door from inside. Then she turned and looked around the room she had once shared with her husband, the blood buzzing in her ears and her heart beating so hard in her chest that she thought it was going to break straight out through her ribs.
Nothing.
The bedding was different. Not what she would have chosen. The curtains were different too. But the bed was in the same place, the thick white carpet was…no, it couldn’t be the same one. Those stains would never have come out. It had been relaid.
All remnants of Leo’s death had been wiped from the room. Light streamed in through the windows. The atmosphere was peaceful, not troubled. Lily walked slowly into the centre of the room, laid the rucksack and the tool down. Then she looked at the wall behind the bed. Different colour. It had been cream when she was here, now it had been repainted in a stylish dark red. Red like Leo’s blood had been as it poured out of him. Shuddering, Lily started shoving at the bed: it moved easily; it was on castors. She shoved it hard, pushing it out into the middle of the room, away from the wall.
Panting, she paused. Then she took up the pickaxe. It was damned heavy. She swung it back over her shoulder, pictured Si King’s pudgy, self-satisfied face in front of her and let fly at the wall.
Whack!
It was hard work, hacking through the plasterboard. Leo’s boys had done a bloody good job on relining this wall: too bloody good. Soon she was streaming with sweat but the clock on the wall over the dressing table told her that time was running on, there was no time to rest.
Whack!
She kept belting away at it, picturing Si there on the wall before her, Si her enemy, Si bloody King.
Take that, you bastard!
She was glad now that she’d spent time in the gym during her confinement; before prison, she wouldn’t have had the strength to attempt this. Now new muscles – and hatred – powered her.
She kept hacking away, through a blooming haze of plaster dust, with arms that grew heavy and aching. She was wet through, gasping, and – oh bliss – soon she started seeing small orange bits of insulation material, then a larger section of the stuff as big chunks of plasterboard fell away.
Jesus, she was making such a mess, plaster and dust and shit everywhere, and she didn’t know how she was going to explain any of this to Oli, but then the door had been locked and she guessed that neither of the girls ever came in here. The memories, the feelings evoked, would be too awful. And thank God for that. Because there was no way she was going to be able to clear all this crap away before Oli got home.
Finally she’d made a big enough hole in the board. She dropped the pickaxe and got in there with her hands, pulling at the itchy chunks of insulating fabric with her hands, yanking it out, throwing it aside. And now she really, really hoped that Leo hadn’t let her down. That it would all pan out just as years ago he had assured her it would, telling her that if ever they needed it fast, it would be there, safe and sound. She dug deeper with her fingers, her nose itching as flakes of the fabric flew all around her, her skin itching too; Jeez, she hated this stuff. But then…
‘Oh holy shit!’ she said, and laughed out loud.
Because it was there. She couldn’t believe it, hadn’t dared to believe it, but it was. Her first glimpse of the wads of fifty-pound notes, all neatly bundled up and covered in polythene, was the most beautiful thing she could ever have imagined. She stepped back from the wall, went into the en-suite bathroom and splashed her face and hands to relieve the itching. She cupped her hands and gulped down an icy, delicious mouthful of water.
Then she went back into the bedroom, threw the empty rucksack onto the bed and unzipped it. She started to fill it with Leo’s emergency stash. Bundle after blessed bundle. Leo had told her there was a hundred thousand behind the wall. She took the whole lot and stuffed it into the bag.
Once all the money was out, she rummaged around in the cavity, determined to get everything, not wanting to pass up a single package, grinning now because Leo had come through for her even from beyond the grave, God bless his cheating arse. Now she was going to be able to pay Jack Rackland, get the ball rolling. Suddenly her hand encountered not more money but two different items.
She pulled out the first, her grin fading and a frown forming in its place. What the…?
She was holding a cream-coloured cloth bag. She opened the pull-cord at the top and tipped the heavy item inside out onto the bed. It was something wrapped in oilcloth. She sat down on the bed and uncovered it.
‘Jesus,’ she breathed, staring at the thing on the bed.
It was Leo’s Magnum. What had he always said about it? Yeah. She remembered. ‘A hand cannon,’ he’d said. ‘Blow you to fuck, this thing would. And it’s got a kick on it like a mule.’ There were two boxes of bullets there, too. All neatly stashed.
In case of emergency.
Well, wasn’t this an emergency? She was in the crap up to her neck, and that was a fact. If that wasn’t an emergency, then what the hell was? But she had signed the Firearms Act when she got out of nick. If she was ever caught so much as in possession of a firearm, she’d be back inside faster than you could say knife.
She stared dubiously at the gun. But Freddy. And Si. She was in danger here. Real danger. And here was Leo, reaching out to her from beyond the grave, saying, Here, Lils. Take it. You might need it.
And she might. She knew she wasn’t supposed even to handle things like this, and she wouldn’t, she swore to herself that she wouldn’t. Unless she absolutely had to.
She cautiously rewrapped the Magnum and the boxes of bullets, and tucked the whole thing into the side compartment of the rucksack. Then she looked at the remaining item. It was an old, unmarked videotape. She stared at it, and suddenly heard a motor coming up the drive. Oli’s car, she recognized the engine note. And – shit, that was another car not far behind it. Maybe Jase again?
Quickly, she tucked the tape into the top of the rucksack, ran across the room, unlocked the door, stepped out onto the landing, relocked it. She heard voices in the downstairs hall as she pocketed the key. She hurried back into the spare bedroom where she’d passed the night and threw the rucksack down beside the bed, peeled off her jeans. Footsteps on the stairs now. Fuck it, hurry up! She yanked off her t-shirt and threw herself back in between the sheets. When Oli knoc
ked lightly and then opened the door, Lily was doing a very good impression of someone fast asleep.
‘Um…Mum?’ Oli said softly.
Lily made a great play of waking up. ‘Hm…?’ she asked groggily.
‘Um,’ said Oli awkwardly, looking unhappy and resentful. ‘You…you lied to me. You said you were only able to stay at Nick’s flat for a night. I spoke to him and he said you could have stayed there as long as you liked, and he also wanted to know where the hell you were right now…’
‘Ah,’ said Lily.
‘Ah?’ burst out Oli angrily. ‘You lied to me.’
‘Oli—’
‘No! I don’t want to hear your excuses,’ she snapped, turning away. ‘Uncle Si’s here. And Aunt Maeve. They want a word with you.’
Lily’s guts clenched. Oh shit. Whatever that word was, she doubted it would be welcome.
22
‘You really have got some balls, coming here, Lily King,’ said Maeve.
As she joined Oli, Maeve and Si in the big downstairs living room, Lily could tell that the atmosphere in here was subzero, which came as no surprise at all.
‘Hi to you too, Maeve,’ said Lily, sitting down on one of the couches, beside Oli.
‘And turning up at the wedding like that! You’ve got a bloody nerve.’
Lily shrugged. Whatever verbal Maeve dished out, she didn’t give a shit. She was more worried by Si’s presence. Maeve might yap at her like a terrier, but any real threat would come from Si himself. He was just sitting there staring at her, and if looks could kill she’d be toast.
But even while she sat there worrying over Si’s threatening glances, she knew that he wouldn’t start anything major in front of Maeve or Oli. They were her safety net. For now. But they wouldn’t always be there, she was very aware of that; aware that Si would like to rip her guts out and that one fine day he still hoped to get the chance to do it.
She had the money now. She could function, buy transport, clothes, people, whatever she needed. Thanks Leo, she thought. You old bastard. So she felt a little less shaky, a bit more as if she was on solid ground. She’d grown used to the cushion of money when Leo had been alive, and without it she’d been anxious. Now, she could settle. Now, she could get on and clear her name.
She thought again of Leo’s Magnum. What the hell was she going to do with that?
‘What you got to say for yourself?’ demanded Maeve. ‘What you doing, showing up like this?’
Lily looked at her sister-in-law coldly. ‘Wouldn’t you have turned up, Maeve, if you heard your daughter was getting married?’ Then Lily rolled her eyes and slapped her thigh. ‘Oh no. Sorry. Forgot. You couldn’t have kids, could you? Maybe that’s why you were so fucking happy to grab mine when you got the chance.’
Maeve coloured up. Lily knew she’d hit a sore spot. The family grapevine had always said that Si was a Jaffa – seedless. Maeve had tried hard to get pregnant, but it soon became obvious that it was never going to happen.
‘That’s a damned cruel thing to say,’ shot back Maeve, jumping to her feet and advancing on Lily in a rage. ‘And it’s completely bloody beside the point. Someone had to look after the girls when you did what you did and got locked up for it. And now you’ve got the gall to sit here in Leo’s home—’
‘My home, too,’ Lily cut in.
‘Yeah, the poor misguided bastard was fair to you, wasn’t he? Put both your names on the deeds, Si told me. And you…’ she glanced at Oli, who was staring down at her hands, clenched white-knuckled in her lap…‘Well, I won’t say it. It’s evil. You’re evil.’
Lily was silent for a beat.
‘Well, that’s true,’ she said at last. ‘That is, supposing I’d done it, of course. Which – by the way – I didn’t.’
Maeve gave a cynical shout of laughter. ‘Oh come on. You pleaded guilty, for Christ’s sake. You’re having a bloody laugh.’
‘Am I laughing?’ asked Lily.
‘Look,’ said Maeve, now hovering over Lily with clenched fists. ‘You done your time. Now why don’t you just bugger off? Disappear back into the hole you crawled out of.’
Lily gave the enraged woman a thin smile. ‘This is my hole, Maeve,’ she said flatly. ‘This house. Oli has no objection to me staying in it – do you, Ols?’
Lily had to hold her breath at this point. She was shoving Oli’s limits, shoving them hard, and she knew it. It was true that she’d lied to her about Nick’s flat. And about the migraine – and Oli must have noticed by now that she didn’t seem ill at all. She’d lied about quite a bit, actually. She didn’t have a clue how she was going to explain about the master bedroom – or what was left of it, now she’d taken a pickaxe to the wall behind the bed. Lily knew that Oli loved her Aunt Maeve and her Uncle Si; they had been a permanent fixture in her young life when her mother and father had vanished off the scene. She must have grown close to them.
Lily felt a stab of insane jealousy at that. Those fuckers. They’d been here, watching her kids grow up, enjoying a family life that wasn’t theirs.
Now Oli was all grown up, and there was Jase, too; Jase had reacted strongly – and badly – to the sight of Lily in the house, had hastened to tell Si, and here Si was to sort her out. Oli wanted Jase’s love and approval. Would Oli now side with Maeve, with Si, with Jase, against her own mother? Lily really didn’t know the answer to that.
‘I…’ Oli looked around at them all, her expression uncertain. She looked at Si, who hadn’t said a single word since Lily entered the room, then at Maeve. Finally, her eyes came to rest on Lily.
Oh come on, Ols, thought Lily. Don’t let me down now.
‘I think I’d like Mum to stay,’ said Oli unsteadily.
‘Oh for God’s sake, Oli!’ said Maeve loudly, turning away, exasperated.
‘Motion carried,’ said Lily, standing up. ‘Unless you feel like grassing me up to the authorities, telling them I’ve moved house and not told them…?’
She knew they wouldn’t do that. No one in their circle ever ratted to the police.
‘No. Didn’t think so,’ said Lily.
Maeve turned back to Lily, red-faced with rage, suddenly raising a hand to strike. Instinctively Lily grabbed Maeve’s wrist and shoved herself up hard against the front of the bulkier woman, then hooked a foot in between Maeve’s thick calves and heaved. Maeve’s expression was almost comically surprised as she toppled backwards and hit the shag pile with a thud. Si came to his feet in one swift movement, his eyes fixed venomously on Lily.
Lily froze. Would he really do anything in front of Oli? For a moment she wasn’t sure; he looked furious. Then he turned aside, helped his wife up.
‘Now I’d like you both to get the fuck out of my home,’ said Lily.
‘You bitch,’ said Maeve, gasping and flustered as she scrabbled upright.
Si gave Lily a twisted little smile. ‘This ain’t over,’ he said softly, and ushered a limping Maeve out into the hall.
The two women listened as Si and Maeve crossed the hall and went out of the front door. The car engine started up and they drove away. Silence descended.
‘Holy shit,’ breathed Lily. She looked at Oli. She felt tears start in her eyes, tears of sheer relief. Oli had defended her, had come down on her side, not Maeve’s. She held out a hand to her daughter. ‘Thanks, Oli. Thanks for supporting me.’
‘That don’t alter the fact that you lied to me,’ said Oli, standing up, her face sullen and averted. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘you can stay here, but I don’t want to talk to you. Okay?’
And she pushed past her mother, ignoring Lily’s outstretched hand, and left the room.
23
Next day Jack collected Lily in his beat-up old car (‘Good for surveillance work,’ he told her when she did a double-take at the rusty old heap) from The Fort. Jack did a double-take of his own when he saw the house, the gates, the security system.
‘You live here now, yeah?’ he asked as she got in the car.
‘
Right,’ said Lily.
‘The bill for my services just went up.’
Lily looked at him.
‘Joke,’ said Jack, and started the engine and drove them over to the Lime Trees Clinic.
Alice Blunt, one-time mistress of Leo King, looked like a puff of wind would knock her clean off the Lloyd Loom chair she was sitting in. She was stick-thin, wearing a shapeless white dress and a cream-coloured cardigan; there were muddy white trainers on her big, bony, naked feet. Her hair, once no doubt vibrantly blonde, was like bleached straw. Her face was blank, her nose beaky, and her eyes – a pretty China blue, the only remnant of the woman she must once have been – were without interest or expression as Lily walked into her room with the buxom dark-haired nurse.
‘Visitor for you, Alice,’ said the nurse cheerily. ‘You remember Lily, don’t you?’
Don’t think she remembers too much, the nurse had told Lily when she’d arrived. Don’t get any visitors apart from her mother and brother. You’re an old friend, you say? Been abroad for some time, you lucky thing? Oh, Australia? God, I could use some of that, soak up a few rays on Bondi. Well this is good. Maybe this is what she needs, a different face, give her a little jolt.
But Alice didn’t look jolted. She went on staring out of the window, out across the manicured lawns down to the big lake with its huge massed shrubs and grasses that danced in the sun and the wind.
Lily began to feel bad about this. It was obvious the woman was out of it. She was glad now that she’d left Jack Rackland, freshly paid and pretty damned happy about it too, sitting down in reception. She felt embarrassed on this woman’s behalf – squirmingly so: there was a snail-trail of food stains down the front of the white dress. And unless Lily missed her guess, that was an adult nappy bulking up Alice’s lower regions. The room smelled sour, of sickness and bad ventilation.