Jessie Keane - Jail Bird

‘Okay.’ He looked faintly surprised, but he turned back toward the gate and started walking. Lily came out, shut the front door and walked alongside him. In silence they went along the street, heading for the park. It was a gorgeous day and Lily should have been at her daughter’s wedding reception, mother of the bride, happy as could be.

Instead she was here. Ousted from her friend’s house. Talking to some dubious bloke who was probably going to tell her things she didn’t even want to hear about her late husband. Mud-stained and teary from Saz’s attack on her. She looked a mess. She felt a mess. She felt as if all the strength had drained out of her and she was glad when they reached the park and sat down on a bench beneath the shade of a big chestnut tree. They were close to the paddling pool, and they sat there in silence for a few moments, watching the kids splashing around, carefree, having fun, their mothers flopped out on the grass, relaxed but ever-watchful. Lily couldn’t help remembering her two when they’d been little. Happy days. All gone now.

‘I wasn’t sure I ought to come,’ he said.

Lily turned her head and looked at his face. He was a big man. He took up a lot of the bench. She’d got out of the habit of men, she realized, banged up with a load of hormonal women. ‘Oh? Why?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s an old case. I worked for Mrs Thomson, gathering information about women she suspected a particular man to be involved with.’

‘And you know that man was my husband, Leo King,’ said Lily. ‘And Mrs Thomson was “involved” too. With my husband.’

He looked at her. There was a brief flare of something like amusement in his eyes. ‘Look, whatever the ins and outs of it, the client’s always right, Mrs King. The client’s paying for the privilege.’

Ah yes, payment. She hadn’t thought about what he’d want for this. She hoped he wouldn’t ask for anything up front. She had a little cash from her prison work, but it wouldn’t be enough, she knew that. Nowhere near enough.

Did that slapper Adrienne have some brass neck, or what? she wondered angrily. Behaving like a betrayed wife and tracking all Leo’s other whores down.

‘Have you kept the records? I mean, you found them all. But have you still got their details on file?’ she asked him.

‘Twelve, thirteen years ago?’ He shook his head. ‘Unlikely. I don’t even remember that far back. Or not much, anyway. There was a nurses’ hostel, maybe. Something involving nurses, anyway. I’ve thought about it, racked my brains, but no good.’

Shit.

She wondered whether he was telling the truth. If he had to find them all over again, it could be costly for her, and a nice little earner for him. Being in the nick made you doubt people. Made you cover your own arse at all times.

‘You bullshitting me?’ she asked him bluntly.

Again that glint of humour. ‘I wouldn’t dare, Mrs King. You blew your husband’s head off. You’ve just got out of stir. You’ve got a face on you like the wrath of God. Do you think I’d want to upset you?’

Lily looked at him. Their eyes locked. He didn’t look the type of man to be fearful of anything, much less a shabby-looking blonde. She’d always thought she was a good judge of people, but fuck it, look where that had got her. But…she thought she could trust him. Just a bit. Maybe. But she had to keep her guard up, keep any hint of weakness hidden away.

‘Could you find them again?’ she asked. ‘Could you get me their names – which might be different now, I suppose. And maybe their old addresses?’

‘The woman I worked for…she was mentioned in the court case, wasn’t she?’

Lily nodded. ‘Adrienne Thomson’s an old friend of mine, we go way back.’

He let out his breath. ‘You want to choose your friends a bit more carefully, Mrs King.’

Don’t I bloody well know it.

‘I’ll need a down payment, get me started. Three hundred ought to do it.’

‘Dream on,’ said Lily. ‘I’m short of readies right now.’ And no way was she going cap in hand to Becks, not now.

‘I’ve got to live, Mrs King,’ he said, his eyes still holding hers. ‘I’ve got exes, just like everyone else. And I’ve got to say, no cash, no deal.’

‘I didn’t say I couldn’t get some,’ said Lily. ‘Soon, anyway.’

‘Soon? Like, when?’

‘Like a few days’ time.’ And she wasn’t looking forward to that event, not at all.

‘Are you bullshitting me, Mrs King?’

‘I never bullshit, Mr Rackland. Never.’ Her eyes were steady on his. ‘Do you believe me?’

He was silent, his eyes searching her face. ‘You know what?’ he said finally. ‘Funnily enough, I do. Which might make me a fucking fool or a sucker for a pretty face, but there you go.’

‘Are you married, Mr Rackland?’

‘Jack. Call me Jack. We’re separated, me and Monica.’

‘Who cheated? You, or her?’

He paused for a beat, looked down, away. ‘Her,’ he said. ‘Said I was working too much, didn’t pay her enough attention.’

‘Hurts like fuck, don’t it?’ Lily smiled grimly. ‘But not as much as being banged up for something you didn’t do. Not as much as losing your husband, and your home, and your kids, and doing twelve long damned years for something someone else did.’

‘Are you really saying you didn’t do it?’

‘Got it in one.’

He let out a low whistle. ‘If that’s true…if that happened to me…’ He shook his big head, leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees.

‘Yeah, what?’

His head came round and his eyes met hers. ‘I’d want to kill some bastard. And I’d make it nice and slow.’

‘Jack,’ said Lily, ‘I do believe we’re reading from the same page.’

He nodded and stood up. ‘You’ll get me those contact details? Then I’ll get on it. I can wait a week for the money, no longer. Then I’m dropping this like a hot potato, that’s a promise.’

‘I think that’s fair,’ said Lily. She stood up too. They shook hands. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

He turned and walked away, back across the park.

Lily paused there, looking at the happy scene in the paddling pool. Happy kids. Her kids would be dancing at Saz’s reception now, Saz and her groom – Christ, she didn’t even know his name! – would be cutting the cake; there would be speeches, toasts, love and laughter. And here she was, standing alone, watching other people’s families having fun, not sure whether or not to go back to Becks’s place at all. She wasn’t welcome there. Fuck, she wasn’t welcome anywhere.

She thought of her parents. Dad was gone, but Mum was still standing, so far as Lily knew. She’d live to torment, that one. She could call on her – if she really wanted to endure another hour or so of prune-faced bollocking, which was all she ever got from her mother; all she had ever got, come to that. Mum had visited her, just once, after she’d gone down for Leo’s killing. Just once, shortly after she’d first been put inside.

She’d been new to prison life, terrified, depressed. And Mum had come in and said – God, would she ever forget those words? – ‘This is where I always thought you’d end up, Lily. You’re a bad ’un. They always say the quiet ones are the worst, and by God you’ve proved them right.’

Did she really want more of that? Answer: no.

She walked off across the park, going back toward Becks’s place. She’d pack up her stuff and bugger off, that was all she could do now. Find a little B & B or something. Sleep in a doorway if she had to. Anything was better than staying at Becks’s when Becks had made it plain she was surplus to requirements.