Jail Bird
Jessie Keane

Copyright

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Harper

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

A Paperback Original 2010

first edition

Copyright © Jessie Keane 2010

Jessie Keane asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Source ISBN: 9780007349401

Ebook Edition © JUNE 2010 ISBN: 9780007332892

Version: 2018-12-06

Dedication

To Cliff, who still has a lot to put up with…

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

56

57

58

59

60

61

62

63

64

65

66

67

68

69

70

71

72

73

74

75

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Jessie Keane

About the Publisher

Prologue

The death woman was coming. Winston Collins’s senses were befuddled with ganja weed, but he knew that. He thought he had done a bad thing, but he wasn’t too sure what the bad thing had been. His mama had told him he shouldn’t be bad, and he had always done his best to walk a good path. But now…he wasn’t sure what was going on. Only that they would pay.

He was hyped on ganja and grief. But he could still smell blood and cheap nylon carpet, could still feel the heat of the sun being magnified by the big plate-glass window as he stood there, sweat-sodden back pressed tight to the wall. And he could still see. He could see the crimson-soaked horror in the chair. And he could see…oh yes, he could see her, just passing by the window, all unknowing, her blonde hair catching the sun like a bright banner, her walk quick, urgent, as she approached the door of Jack Rackland’s office.

It was her. The death woman.

Praise God and don’t worry, be happy…now how did it go? He was so upset that he had forgotten the words of his favourite Bobby McFerrin song. Suki would know.

But Suki was gone.

There it was, nibbling away at the edge of his brain like a rat chewing on rotten meat. Suki was gone, and Bev was hovering between life and death; he might lose her too and he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear any of it; it was all her fault. Lily King had brought death into their happy home. Winston had always been peaceful, easy-going; but not now, not any more. Lily King and her sidekick had ruined his life, and they had to pay for it.

He saw it all again: Suki turning over the cards and her troubled gaze coming up to meet his, her sweet lips saying, look, this is Lily King’s card; it’s death. And him laughing, oh yeah, sure hon, and do you want this dinner edible or ruined? He didn’t give all that tarot crap a second thought. Give Bev a shout, the dinner’ll get cold, he’d said to her, brushing it aside, brushing that look in her eyes aside, that look of purest fear. God how he wished that he had taken her more seriously.

But Suki was gone.

He relived it. Suki turning away, saying yeah sure, but there was something in her eyes, a darkness, a terror. Because in her gut Suki knew about Lily King, she knew there was big trouble coming, and he shouldn’t have laughed at her all those times when he did, he should have given her more attention, taken more notice.

Too late now.

Suki was gone.

The pain of it hit him all over again.

All that was left was the death woman. Dealing out vengeance, dealing out a world of hurt to Bev, who might even now be going about the hard business of dying, and Suki…Jesus, he’d loved that woman. Loved her to bits.

Now she was gone.

And all because of this woman, and her lust for revenge.

The fire. Oh Jesus, the fire.

Somehow he’d got Bev out, and he’d been going back for Suki, all the while heaving and choking, the smoke – the horrible, rolling black smoke – snatching the air from his lungs; but the flames had been too much for him. The flames had driven him back.

Well, now he was here, and so was she. Lily King was opening the door, pushing through fast, and then pausing, freezing as she saw what was sitting in the chair. Winston’s hand tightened on the bloody machete in his strong right hand. Now he was going to put an end to her evil ways. She moved in further, breathed out ‘Jack…’ and Winston was so close he could hear how fast and panicky her breathing was, and he thought, Yeah. Now I’ve got you.

He surged forward, raising his hand to strike her dead.

She heard the movement as he pulled away from the wall. Turned, her eyes widening.

Here it comes for you, bitch, thought Winston.

She liked revenge? Well, so did he.

Revenge was sweet.

1

1996

LEO

Leo King could never resist blondes. Ash, golden, strawberry, Nordic – he loved them all. Hell, he had even married one. Of course he loved his old lady, Lily. Of course he did. She was the mother of his children, he loved the bones of those two girls of his and he loved Lily too, but sometimes…well, he guessed it was a weakness, but sometimes he just got the urge to stick it in something new.

Like he was doing now. And it was being appreciated, too.

‘Oh, honey,’ the blonde he was humping doggy-fashion in the hotel bed was crouching on all fours, moaning and gasping, clutching the French headboard with long, elegantly manicured nails.

She’s going to scratch the damned thing, thought Leo.

Which was okay, fuck it. But if this had been at home, in his own bed – and sometimes, oh yes, sometimes he did that, and he felt bad about it but he did it anyway – then scratching the furniture was a no-no. Because he’d felt just lately that Lily wasn’t entirely in the dark about his little extracurricular bits of bedroom activity. Marks on the headboard would blow the whole thing wide open, and he didn’t want that.

What Leo wanted was to carry on having his cake and eating it – this delectable little bit of fluff right here, who had been the first but who most certainly was not the last.

‘Oh Leo sweetheart,’ Adrienne screamed as he pumped away.

Actually she was a bit theatrical about sex, this one. Not like Lily, who was a real slow, sensual burn. He loved Lily, but this…ah, it was the thrill of the chase, the cornering of the quarry, the proof that he still had it, in spades.

Of course women never understood that.

They never appreciated that extramarital sex was simply fun, something a guy would do if he could, with whoever – the whoever scarcely mattered; it was just the doing of it that was the good bit.

Forbidden fruit, he thought. That’s what it was. Forbidden, and therefore twice as desirable.

But now she was moving, he was slipping out. Fuck it, he’d just been getting into his stride there. She turned on the bed, great breasts, high and firm and brown-nippled, slim waist, brown pubic hair, so not a natural blonde, but who gave a fuck? She lay down on her back and clasped him with her wide-open thighs, smiling up at him dreamily.

‘Let’s do it this way for a change,’ she panted.

That annoyed him. He liked doggy-style the best. He’d thought about why over the years and had concluded that he liked it best that way because the woman in the bed could be anyone, anyone at all, you didn’t have to see her face, you didn’t have to tell her you loved her (that came later, or earlier if she was proving resistant to all his other best lines), or have it rammed home to you that it wasn’t Lily: doggy-style, you could be shagging anyone or anything, you could be putting it in a hole in the fence. It was simple, and it was – nearly – guiltless.

Okay, he was nearly there anyway. He pushed back into her warm wetness and she pulled him in close, skin to skin. She was a fabulous lay and so he was willing to forgive the interruption – this time.

‘Jesus!’ she was yelling in his ear now. ‘Oh God – Leo!’

And now she was applying those nails that had marked the headboard to his back.

‘Ow!’ he complained as she ripped the talons down his flesh. ‘Jesus, take it easy…’

Marking him was completely out of order. She knew that. She knew the rules. No love bites, no tooth marks, no scratching. No evidence for Lily to find and start to complain over. Although Lily was a good girl, never really nagged. Lily wasn’t an in-your-face sort of woman. She was quiet. Restrained.

A doormat? sprang into his brain.

No, not that. Was she?

Anyway, here was this stupid bitch Adrienne, breaking the rules, flouting them in his face, but oh Jesus, that felt so good, she was a fantastic lay; she was just the best.

‘Arghhhh!’ shouted Leo as he came.

He collapsed onto her, gasping.

‘Jesus, you’re heavy,’ she complained mildly.

Leo was a big bull of a man, dark haired and dark skinned and tipping the scales at eighteen stone. Considerately, he heaved himself off her and collapsed onto the bed.

‘That was good,’ said Leo, eyes closed, a broad smile on his chops.

‘Yeah,’ she said, and cuddled up to him, smoothing her hand over his chest hair.

Knowing what was required of him – this was what they all required, after sex, he’d found – he dropped a kiss onto her cheek and gazed deep into her eyes. ‘Love you, babes,’ he murmured.

‘Love you too,’ Adrienne whispered, her eyes intense as they stared back into his.

He groped around for something else to say. She was waiting for something. He came up with: ‘You’re something special.’

‘Hmm.’ Adrienne knew she was special. She’d been his mistress for over ten years now, even since before he’d wed Lily. But now…well, what she had begun to suspect had been proved to be the case. Jack Rackland had done a thorough job and dug up a whole heap of dirt. She knew that Leo had been keeping secrets from her. From Lily, too. But then – Lily was no concern of hers.

She cuddled in against his chest. Her face grew serious. ‘Do you really think that I’m special?’

‘Sure you are.’ Leo stifled a yawn. It always knocked him out, chilled him like nothing else, having sex.

‘I think you’re special too,’ she whispered, her fingernails circling on his chest, her eyes fixed upon the little whorls she was forming in his dark chest hair. And I’m sick of sharing you, she added silently.

‘Thanks, babes.’ Leo’s eyes were fluttering closed.

‘That’s why I’ve decided,’ she said.

Leo heaved a contented sigh. ‘Decided?’

‘I’m going to tell Matt. Then you can leave Lily, and we can be together.’

2

1996

LILY

Usually Lily King loved a little me-time, a little girly pampering, but on this particular Monday to Friday break she realized that she wasn’t in the mood to be relaxed and soothed at her favourite spa with her mates; she had too much on her mind.

She hadn’t wanted to let the girls down, but by Wednesday she was pacing the grounds of the super-deluxe spa like a caged animal, and by Thursday she could see that it was hopeless. She couldn’t just lay about any longer, fulminating over what the hell Leo had been up to, without a thought for good old Lily; dependable, quiet, stupid Lily.

Even a worm turns eventually, she thought, hurling her stuff back into her Louis Vuitton suitcase.

You could only heap so much shit onto a person’s head before they finally came spluttering to the surface and said okay, enough. And – finally – here she was, a very domesticated and dull little worm, turning around at last. Going home.

‘Miserable mare,’ Becks had said with a cheery grin through a wad of chewing gum. Becks always chewed gum. Tall and lanky and sporting her usual blonde bouffant up-do, Becks had been swathed in a thick white towelling robe when she’d knocked on Lily’s room door and found her dressed and packing her things. She swept Lily into a hug. ‘You’ve had a cob on all week,’ she said, pushing Lily back a pace and staring into her eyes. ‘Anything you want to talk about?’

Lily shook her head.

She couldn’t talk about it. She was sure that her husband was shagging around and it was painful even to think about, much less discuss. This break had been a mistake. She wanted to go home and have it out with Leo. They had things to discuss. Important things. She’d tried before, but he’d just said she was crazy, she was imagining things.

She knew she wasn’t imagining things.

Sure, the marriage hadn’t been perfect. They both knew it. But they’d both tried to make a go of it, after the first flush of lust had worn off. Well, she’d tried. Obviously Leo had been trying out other things, playing other games. Like hide the sausage.

‘Well take care,’ said Becks, and hugged her again. ‘I’ll have to make do with Hairy Mary for company, won’t I? She’s always in that pool. She’s still in the bloody pool; she’ll look like a prune by the time she climbs out. Pity Adrienne couldn’t have come along. Or Maeve.’

Lily forced a laugh. Hairy Mary was in fact their good friend Mary, who was married to one of the East End’s biggest drug dealers. She was a stunning little dark-haired hottie who went in for ultimate waxing; the only hair she had on her body was on her head. Maeve was Lily’s sister-in-law, married to the middle King brother, Si.

Leo, Si and Freddy – they were a set; inseparable: brothers in arms.

As for Adrienne…well, Lily thought that Adrienne was probably busy. And she knew what she was busy doing, too.

‘I think Mary does it to be streamlined,’ grinned Becks. ‘Less water resistance.’

So, Lily went home.

Home was a 1930s art deco mansion in deepest Essex, with both an indoor and an outside pool. Leo had fallen in love with the place when they had seen it up for sale. He liked the fact that Si’s place – equally palatial – was just up the road. Lily had been pregnant at the time with Oli, and Saz had been a bumptious two-year-old, whining with boredom as they house-hunted. This was the thirteenth house they’d viewed, and Leo had said ‘we’ll take it’ without hesitation, and promptly renamed it The Fort.

‘How about The White Elephant?’ Lily had joked with a tinge of acid in her voice, because it was huge, it was white, it was the thirteenth house they’d looked at, and wasn’t that meant to be unlucky?

Besides, she was throwing up all day every day – morning sickness, what a laugh – and she was worried that she was going to heave all over the estate agent’s suit if they didn’t get a move on.

After they moved in, Leo saw to the installation of a new security system to turn The Fort into a modern-day fortress. Leo owned, ran and understood the security biz and had installed a security system so watertight that if a mouse so much as farted in the grounds, he’d know about it. It was a double system: if you cut the phone lines, he proudly told her, it would still function. It had everything – sensors both inside the house and out, a secure entry system, and Leo added a high wall around the perimeter of the grounds. It was, truly, a fortress.

Lily learned to love The Fort too. She furnished it lavishly. They had a cleaner in twice a week, the man came and attended to the pools, and the gardener called on Thursdays to keep the grounds in pristine condition. It was only later, way later, when the girls were in primary school and Lily had begun to suspect that Leo was indulging in a little extramarital lechery that she started to think that her ‘white elephant’ crack had been closer to the mark than either of them could have known at the time. Grandly appointed and heavily secured though The Fort was, Lily came to believe that they were not really owning the house, it was owning them. Or her, anyway. She felt trapped here – trapped, and unloved.

Oh, Leo had been fair about it. He’d put the deeds to The Fort in both their names, and she appreciated that. But increasingly she felt like a bird in a gilded cage. Leo was free to fuck around all he wanted – she had only recently become certain of the fact that Leo was playing around with Adrienne, wife of the firm’s accountant Matt Thomson – but where, exactly, did that leave her?

She sighed deeply as she steered her Porsche 911 through the remotely operated electronic gates. She drove up the winding approach and there was The Fort. Lily looked ahead at the well-lit courtyard in front of the huge house and felt ridiculously proud of the place. All her friends were envious that she lived here.

Yeah, but then there’s a downside, she thought.

She and Leo had been married a long time. Leo had started out a small-time crook, twocking motors, creating mayhem on the football terraces and running errands for the local crims all around Essex and the city. He had been her first real lover.

But not her first real love, she admitted to herself.

That prize had gone to Nick O’Rourke. Leo’s closest friend. She had been hotly, obsessively in love with Nick as only a very young girl can be. Then Nick had turned his back on her. She had pleaded with him, What’s wrong? What did I do?

He had been cold as ice. ‘It’s over,’ he said.

That had hurt so much, pierced her to the heart.

But then Leo King had kicked in the door of her quiet little world, collecting her in his souped-up car from the school gates, impressing Lily no end and making all her gawky little school friends nearly shit themselves with envy.

Back then, Leo had seemed so grown-up, so exotic. He was a bad boy and–like Nick–exuded a potent, violent charisma. There was Greek way back in Leo’s family somewhere, and that came out in his dark, bulky good looks. Leo was charming and brutal in equal measures, always with cash to spare and attitude by the bucketful, and Lily’s strictly boring, law-abiding parents–her dad a postman, her mother a cleaner–had clamped down on the budding relationship almost immediately.

But not soon enough.

Decimated by Nick’s rejection of her, Lily had sought solace in the arms of Leo. And Leo had wasted no time in popping Lily’s cherry and giving her a little something to remember him by. After that, Leo–being young and stupid, just as Lily was even younger and even stupider–had proposed. Lily’s parents had softened towards him after that. There had been a white wedding–well, ivory, anyway. Lily had forfeited the right to wear white on the day she let Leo King deflower her in the back of his hot-rod car, as her sour-faced mother never tired of reminding her.

Nine months later, after twenty-four hours of agonizing labour, a little bundle of joy arrived and was christened Sarah. Three years after that, by which time Leo was making a big name for himself in criminal circles and they were living the life of Riley, another daughter turned up. Olivia. Oli.

Lily half smiled as she thought of her two precious girls. Yeah, there were downsides–being married to the-ego-has-landed Leo King was one, who by the way farted like a fibre-fuelled wart hog in bed, emitting smells that could almost lead a person to think that a rat had crawled up his hairy great arse and died there–but hey, here was an upside.

A huge upside.

Her two lovely girls. Sarah–or Saz as she was known to everyone–getting very grown up at just nine years old, and Oli who was just six. Saz was a stately little girl, prettily blonde and dainty, very much daddy’s princess. Oli was the tomboy, the wild one, dark-haired like her dad and always faintly dishevelled. Lily adored them both, and so did Leo. He’d do anything for his girls.

Yeah–anything except give up chasing skirt, she thought.

Lily parked the car, turned off the engine and got out. The sensor came on above the front porch, further illuminating the drive where she stood in cold, bluish light.

Ain’t it funny? she thought. Crooks always expect other people to be crooked too.

There were lights blazing out from the upstairs windows, a few left on downstairs too.

‘Hey Leo!’ she called out when she stepped into the hall.

No answer.

Fallen asleep again with the telly on, thought Lily irritably.

He’d be laid out on the bed in his underpants, mouth open, snoring: not a pretty sight. She sighed and dumped her case on the hall floor. She put her handbag on the consul table under the big Venetian mirror. Her reflection stared back at her. It gave her a bit of a turn, looking at herself caught unawares. She saw not the happy girl she’d once been, but a woman weighed down by troubles. Yes, she was blonde and she looked good. Slender, dressed in designer clothes and wearing foot-fetish shoes, buffed to bronze with fake tan, sporting long acrylic nails and a lot of expensive make-up. But her face said it all. An unhappy woman stood there, her mouth turned down and her eyes, brown with tigerish flecks of gold, lacking any spark of life.

Lily looked behind her reflection at the vast hall, at the chandelier she’d sourced so carefully, the cream marble on the floor, the watered silk Dupioni drapes that had cost a bloody fortune, and she thought: Hey, guess what? It’s true. Money doesn’t buy you happiness.

Lily moved away from the mirror, not liking what she saw. She felt a huge sense of emptiness eating at her guts, a sense of complete futility. Tonight she didn’t even have the comfort of Saz and Oli to relieve it. They were staying over nearby at Si and Maeve’s for the week. If Lily was away, then that was just the way it had to be–Leo King didn’t babysit kids, even if the kids were his own. That was women’s work, not men’s.

‘Leo!’ she called again. She couldn’t hear the telly going in their huge lounge, or up there in the master suite. Maybe he was in the games room. He wouldn’t be in the heated indoor pool: Leo was a morning swimmer.

No, it was late. He would be upstairs, asleep. Nice and peaceful, the bastard. Lily gritted her teeth and thought again about the things she’d found over the last few months. The receipts for jewellery. A gold bracelet from Tiffany, a Patek Philippe ladies’ watch that she had never received. Expensive bouquets of flowers that she’d never seen hide nor hair of. And a bill from a classy restaurant–not the sort of place he’d take his hoodlum mates to.

She’d phoned the number on the bill, saying she’d been there with Leo King on that date, and she thought she’d left her scarf behind. Had it been handed in? They told her no, but it was the manager’s day off, they’d check with him tomorrow–and she’d be coming in as usual with Mr King, wouldn’t she, next week? If the scarf was found, they’d put it aside for her.

‘Thanks,’ said Lily. She’d hung up and checked the calendar. Leo had last been to the restaurant on Wednesday lunchtime.

The following Wednesday, she drove there and sat outside in her car and waited. And there he was, walking into the restaurant–with Adrienne Thomson, wife of the company accountant.

Leo was taking the mickey, making her look a bloody fool. And now she’d had enough. Now the games were going to stop. She was going to lay it out for him, spell it out plain: either he stopped, or she was walking away, and she was taking the girls with her and he was going to pay, pay and pay again for making her look like such a total schmuck.

Grimly, Lily started up the stairs.

All right, marriage to Leo had for her always been a compromise. But she had worked at it, made a life, a family, a home. But this was the final straw for her.

Lily had never been the confrontational type. She had always felt she’d struck lucky, marrying a bloke who could keep her in style. She lived well. Lunches with the girls. Spa breaks. Holidays in Marbella and Barbados. The works.

She’d grown up poor, with parents who’d been forced to penny-pinch to get by. She knew it had scarred her. This life–her life–was so different. Her mum could never quite believe it when she called–and being Mum she was always quick with the snide remarks, the ‘getting above yourself’ lectures, all that sour inverted-snobbery stuff. What did she want, the miserable bitch? That her daughter should have to scrape along through life, cleaning other people’s lavvies like her?

‘Pride comes before a fall,’ Mum would sniff, glaring disdainfully about at her daughter’s opulent lifestyle. ‘Salt of the earth, the working class, don’t you forget that, my girl.’

Lily ignored her. She knew that she, Lily, had never changed, that she never had and never would put on airs and graces. She was still herself, still true to her roots–she was still quiet, awestruck Lily Granger, who had been painfully dumped by Nick O’Rourke and then been amazed that his pal Leo King fancied her and not any of the other, more exuberant girls in her circle. She was the same Lily Granger who had become Lily King, the biddable, reserved and faithful wife of Leo King.

Biddable.

Lily’s lip curled in bitterness as she thought of what a prize idiot Leo had taken her for. Yeah, she might live in luxury, but she’d been made to look a twat. She was sure his mates and his business ‘colleagues’ would know what he was up to, would pat him on the back and think him a big man for cheating on his wife with poor Matt Thomson’s old lady.

‘You dog,’ they’d say admiringly.

And if the boys knew, then her friends knew too.

Leo was a major Essex ‘face’, and he and his boys were behind many a heist. Leo, his brothers and Nick O’Rourke led a cadre of suited-and-booted villains, all deeply dangerous and mired in running ‘front’ companies. Lily didn’t know much about their business, and she didn’t want to. The money poured in; that had to be enough. So she’d put the blinkers on, kept her head down and ignored the rest.

There was always a price to pay in this life. She had come to know that over the years, shedding her girlish innocence as she got to know the man she’d married. There was a price to pay–and that price was her dignity. And just lately that price seemed too fucking high, by about a mile.

She was outside the closed bedroom door now, and her heart was beating hard with the tension of it. Because he would kick off. She knew that. Leo had never once hit her–he never would–but his temper was formidable, his rages seemed to fill up the space all around him, to suck all the oxygen out of a room. She didn’t ever like to upset him, but now she’d been pushed too far.

Yeah, the worm’s finally doing a U-turn, she thought.

‘Leo!’ she called again, wanting to wake him quickly, wanting more than anything to get this over and done with.

He’d deny it. She knew damned well that he’d deny it. But there were things she knew for sure now; there was proof, and she had right on her side.

‘Leo, will you wake up? I want a word,’ she said, nerves making her voice harsh and demanding as she swung the door wide open, crashing it back against the wall in her haste to get in there and get the damned thing said.

And then she saw the blood–splatters and loops and obscene thick skeins of blood–and the body with its head shot clean away. She stopped dead in the doorway, all the strength draining from her limbs in an instant, her lips mouthing words that would not come.

Her long nightmare had begun.

3

2009

Lily King was out. She was standing at the gates of Askham Grange nick, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, a grey hoodie and white trainers, clutching a black bin bag full of her worldly possessions.

The first thing she knew of her friend Becks’s arrival was the horn of the car. It blared out a merry eight-tone tune as Becks whipped round the corner in it. The second thing that announced Becks’s arrival was the colour of the car. The daft bint had a pink open-topped car. Lily cringed a bit as Becks tore along the road, waving madly, her white-blonde hair whipping out behind her in the warm June wind. So much for hopes of a quiet departure. Becks never did a damned thing quietly. Lily should have known that.

‘Lils, Lils! Hiya Lils!’ she was hollering even before she brought the car to a screeching halt.

Becks was her best mate. Only Becks had visited her inside while she’d been down south in Holloway. And Becks was the only person who’d offered to drive all the way up to Yorkshire to pick her up now she was no longer to be detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure. She’d offered her temporary accommodation too, to keep the probation officer sweet.

Becks is a very kind girl, thought Lily as the pink monstrosity barrelled to a halt right in front of her. Barking, sure. Mad as a hatter. But kind.

‘Lils babe, jump in!’ Becks was trilling over the loud thump and grind of the Foo Fighters. She grabbed the black bin bag and lobbed it onto the back seat. ‘Jesus, it’s so good to see you.’

Lily was clutched around the neck in a tight hug. Becks’s jaws were working, chewing gum as always, and the scent of Wrigley’s surrounded Lily in a haze of sweetness. She smiled into Becks’s perfumed hair and then she looked up and stiffened.

A bull-barred 4x4 that had been parked across the street was slowly pulling out. As it drew level with Becks’s car, the darkly tinted electronic window slid smoothly down. A bulky man was behind the steering wheel, a man with a shaven head, snub nose, cleft chin and piggy dark blue eyes.

Oh shit, thought Lily.

Freddy King, Leo’s psycho youngest brother was sitting there in the driving seat staring right at her.

Becks felt her grow rigid and she drew back. Looked at Lily’s eyes. Saw where they were directed. Becks looked around, following Lily’s gaze, and saw Freddy there.

‘Fucking hell,’ Becks muttered under her breath.

Both women froze, wondering what the hell he was doing here, what the hell he was intending to do. Lily’s heart was threatening to bust its way straight out through her ribs. Suddenly she wished she was back inside. She’d felt safer inside.

Now she was out…and here was Freddy.

Freddy started to grin. Lily felt her stomach tighten with fear. Freddy had a grin like a crocodile. It wasn’t intended to convey warmth, only threat. He lifted his hand and pointed a finger at her, mimicking the pointing of a gun.

Lily gulped.

He was mouthing something now. Lily stared at his face, a face she had last seen twelve years ago whooping and hollering in triumph across a crowded courtroom. Big heavy features, pitted skin the result of childhood acne, black eyebrows that met in the middle. Freddy had never been the brains of the King outfit–and by God it showed–but he was certainly the brawn. He exuded an air of casual menace. Lily looked at that sneering mouth and tried to make out the words.

When she did, it gave her no comfort at all.

You won’t see it coming, but trust me–it is.

And then he gunned the engine, and was gone, roaring off along the road.

‘Creep,’ said Becks with a shudder.

Lily felt as though someone had just stepped heavily on her grave. Leo’s two brothers hated her, and they had reason. She just hadn’t expected they’d make their intentions clear quite so soon. Her mouth felt dry and it was as if a cloud had passed over the sun.

She looked along the road. The 4x4 was gone, but the feeling of menace lingered. She took a breath, opened the car door, and slid into the passenger seat of Becks’s ludicrous pink motor.

‘Blonde joke,’ said Lily. ‘What’s the first thing a dumb blonde does in the morning?’

Becks looked at her doubtfully.

‘She introduces herself,’ said Lily.

Becks raised a thin smile.

‘And what’s the second thing a dumb blonde does in the morning?’ Lily asked.

Becks shook her head.

‘She goes home.’ And where the hell is home, now? she wondered.

Becks smiled obligingly, but her heart wasn’t in it. ‘You think he knew the day you were getting out, and followed me all the way up here?’

Lily didn’t answer, but yes–she thought Freddy had done exactly that. For the sole purpose and pleasure of scaring the shit out of her.

‘He was saying something, wasn’t he?’ Becks was frowning now. ‘I couldn’t tell what it was. Did you see what he was saying, Lils?’

You won’t see it coming–but trust me, it is.

‘Nah,’ said Lily. ‘Couldn’t make out a word.’

She looked at the prison. Twelve years out of her life. Twelve years. But the nightmare had started before that, on the night she came home to accuse her husband of having an affair.

4

‘What you thinking about, Lils?’ asked Becks.

Lily came back to the present with a jolt. She forced a smile. Banished the image of all that blood, that huge splatter of blood, from her mind once again. ‘Nothing much,’ she said, realizing that she’d been back there again, reliving that awful night.

She was wrapped up in Becks’s spare towelling robe, having soaked in the bath for ages. She’d washed her hair, scrubbed herself all over, but still she couldn’t get the stink of prison off her skin. It was Friday evening, earlyish. Watch the soaps, go to bed. That was their grand plan. They’d eaten–just the two of them; Joe, Becks’s lankily attractive husband, who worked for one of the East End mobs, had taken himself off somewhere–and they were now polishing off the last of the wine.

Becks flopped down beside Lily and looked at her, sitting there bolt upright, blank-faced. Becks popped a piece of gum in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Lily knew what her friend was thinking: that Lily had changed. The Lily Becks had known–before the Leo thing had kicked off–had always been quiet, smiley, not a hint of attitude on her. This Lily had grown a tougher skin, altered into something different, something alien.

Her best friend, thought Lily. She was sitting here with her best friend, and now she hadn’t a clue what to say to her. She knew that her presence was starting to make Becks feel uneasy. Lily had just done twelve years for killing Leo. Sure, there were a lot of people who’d wanted to kill Leo–shit, they’d been queuing up around the block–but everyone believed that Lily had actually gone ahead and done it. Blown his head clean off. Becks had remained a friend despite that, over all this time, visiting, making an effort. But she had to be wondering how the hell anyone could do that, take a life, even if sorely provoked.

Becks was staring at Lily.

‘What?’ asked Lily.

‘Nothing.’ Becks shook her head.

‘Come on.’

Becks looked back at Lily. ‘I just…well…what’s it like? Killing someone, I mean?’

Lily smiled faintly. ‘You just point and shoot, I suppose. Easy.’

Becks swallowed. Lily was really making her nervous. The way she’d said that. So cool. So flippant.

‘It can’t be easy,’ said Becks with a shaky laugh.

‘It could be. Supposing you hated the person you were shooting. Supposing he had–for instance–been poking someone else. Or beating you up. Stuff like that.’

Becks nodded. ‘Right.’

Becks had been at the trial. She remembered that the defence had used that, told the jury that Leo had beaten the crap out of Lily on a regular basis, tried to lessen the sentence. Becks had doubted that was true; she still did. The defence counsel had been clutching at straws, but everyone could see that Lily was going down for a long stretch.

‘You know what, Lils? You still look bloody good.’ Then she grinned. ‘Forty’s the new twenty, y’know.’

Lily sighed. She’d always looked younger than her years. ‘I’m not forty yet. Not till next April.’

‘Mine hits next June,’ said Becks. ‘Scary, or what?’

Silence.

Then Lily said: ‘Si and Maeve. They still living with the girls at The Fort?’

Becks shook her head. ‘When Oli turned eighteen back in February, they moved out–back to their own place just up the road. The girls are still there, though.’ Becks felt uncomfortable talking about this. Lily had lost her home. A con couldn’t profit from their crime, so her share of the house–which would have been the full share had Leo died peacefully in his bed–had passed into a trust for the girls, administered by Leo’s brother Si and his wife Maeve, who were appointed trustees and guardians of the girls by the courts.

Lily sipped her wine, but it tasted sour to her now. She was remembering all those frantic, tearful times when she had phoned out from prison. The very first time she had phoned The Fort, thinking that the cleaner or someone would pick up, Si had answered the phone, told her to fuck off, and put the phone down on her.

Becks was darting furtive looks at Lily.

‘Now what?’ Lily asked.

Becks shook her head. ‘No, it don’t matter.’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Becks, spit it out,’ sighed Lily. She looked tired all of a sudden, tired and irritable.

Becks sighed. She knew she ought to listen more to Joe and what he told her. Joe was the epitome of sensible. For instance, he’d kicked off about Lily coming here, but Becks had insisted. And now she could see the error of her ways, because with Lily in such close proximity she found that she just couldn’t keep this huge secret from her. It wasn’t fair. Lily had been through enough.

She couldn’t help remembering Lily standing there outside the prison gates, looking lost, her eyes blank, her expression hopeless. Her old mate, Lily. She’d stuck with her, because for God’s sake this was Lily. They’d known each other all their lives. And if Lily–of all people–had blown Leo away, then she must have been goaded beyond all reason. So she owed the poor cow the truth, at least. Didn’t she?

‘I wasn’t supposed to tell you,’ said Becks.

‘Tell me what?’ asked Lily.

‘About Saz’s wedding.’

‘You what?’ Lily shot upright, slopping wine over the arm of the chair.

Saz! Her baby girl. She hadn’t seen her or heard a word from her in twelve years. And now…

‘Wedding? What the fuck’re you talking about?’

‘She’s getting married. Tomorrow. And I’m not supposed to tell you that, you didn’t hear that from me, okay?’

Lily sat there, gobsmacked. When she had last seen Saz, she had been nine years old. Now she was twenty-one. A fully grown woman. And she was getting married. Her eldest daughter. Her lovely girl.

‘Where?’ asked Lily. ‘What time?’

‘Oh, no,’ said Becks, shaking her head. ‘No, Lils. Don’t even think about it. The King boys see you within ten miles of that, they’ll go apeshit.’

‘There’s nothing in my licence that says I can’t contact the girls–or anyone else, come to that.’

‘No! Lils, don’t. The Kings…’

‘Hey,’ said Lily with sudden sharpness, ‘I’m a King. Remember?’

Becks was taken aback. The Lily she’d known had never snapped like that. I guess becoming a murderess changes a person, she thought with a shudder. And what the hell was she doing, helping a murderess out like this? Joe was right. She was mental to get involved. And now she’d opened her fat gob and put her foot straight in it. As usual.

‘Freddy King said he’d kill you if he ever clapped eyes on you again,’ Becks reminded her. ‘He was outside the sodding jail, Lils. Think about this. He drove all that way and waited, just so that he could scare you.’

Freddy was hot-headed and stupid, Lily had always thought that. Not like Si. Si was a thinker. Leo had been smart too–but not, as it turned out, quite smart enough.

‘Freddy King’s full of crap,’ said Lily.

‘He’ll do for you if you go there,’ warned Becks seriously.

Lily shrugged and glugged back the last of the wine. She turned and looked Becks dead in the eye. ‘Like I care,’ she said. ‘And Becks…?’

‘What?’

‘I didn’t kill Leo.’

Becks gulped. ‘You what?’

‘I didn’t kill him. I know you all thought I did. Everyone did. Including the police who investigated the case. Including the judge. No one bought that shit about him beating me up and me killing him being justifiable. People knew he was screwing Adrienne Thomson. They were convinced I cracked and killed him for it. But I didn’t.’

Becks took a long swallow of her wine. She needed it. Was Lily bullshitting her? But why would she do that? She’d done her time, what would it profit her to start spinning fairy tales?

‘So who the hell…?’ she asked Lily.

Lily shrugged. ‘Dunno,’ she said.

She looked straight at Becks and Becks felt dread take hold of her. ‘But I’m going to start with Adrienne. She was all over Leo’s bits like a dose of the clap, ever since school days. She was Matt Thomson’s missus, but he didn’t do it for her, did he? We all knew that. Apart from firing blanks, poor bastard, she went round telling everyone he had a tiny dick.’ Lily emptied her glass and grimaced. ‘Yeah. I’ll start with her.’

And after Adrienne, I’ll go on to anyone else who might have done it, she thought. And when I find them, when I finally find out who did this to me, then God help them.

5

1997

Lily King was twenty-seven years old and standing in number one court in the Old Bailey. 1997, and no one believed that the Millennium Dome would ever come in on budget or that Princess Diana was going to be dead within months. Everyone, however, believed that one day soon Tim Henman would win Wimbledon, and for sure everyone believed that Lily King, wife of ‘entrepreneur’ Leo King, was guilty of his murder.

The jury were filing back into the court, and now here came the judge. A low, excited murmur buzzed around the jam-packed courtroom. Lily stared straight ahead, willing herself not to break down, not to cry. Terror gripped her, and disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her.

The jury had reached their conclusion after just forty minutes of deliberation. Her brief had been reassuring when they’d spoken before the trial, but now when she tried to catch his eye, he was looking away. She’d put her blonde hair back in a French pleat and dressed in a sober black suit for the trial, on his recommendation.

‘Don’t look too glamorous. Keep it plain, keep it simple,’ he’d said.

But Lily had the strong feeling that she could have been wearing spangles and a leotard, and she’d still be fucked.

The court clerk was taking the verdict form from the leader of the jury, and was now handing it up to the judge. Now there was no excited murmur. The whole courtroom was silent, waiting for the axe to fall.

Lily’s eyes were fixed on the florid-faced judge in his sombre grey wig and robes. He put on his glasses, unfolded the paper and read it. Then he passed it back to the clerk, cleared his throat and started to speak. Lily didn’t hear a word he said, over the roaring tumult in her head. Didn’t want to hear what she feared the most.

When he stopped speaking, there was a moment of total silence. Then pandemonium broke out. Suddenly the whole court was in uproar, the press were storming toward the doors, Leo’s family were stomping and yelling in triumph, Freddy and Si were glaring their hatred at her. Becks was sitting there, pale-faced and wretched. Nick O’Rourke was there too, silent amid the noise, as if carved from stone. The judge was yelling for silence, but nobody was taking any notice.

Lily King was going down for the murder of her husband, Leo King. She had blown Leo’s brains out after finding out he was having an affair with Adrienne Thomson. Both motive and evidence pointed to Lily: her fingerprints had been on the gun–no one else’s. Her charmed life was over. Her fate was decided. She stood there, dazed, as hell erupted all around her. Her eyes sought her brief’s again, but he was looking away, tidying his papers.

Bastard.

How the fuck could this be happening?

But it was. A guard appeared on either side of her. She turned numbly. They led her back down to the cells.

6

Bright and early next morning, Lily was up, showered and dressed. It was either that or sleeping, and dreaming. She dreamed a lot. Last night it had been the court case. No, she’d rather be up and doing than asleep and at the mercy of the dreams.

Becks lent her the pink car and Lily drove over to where she wanted to go. It felt funny, being behind the wheel after so long inside, being free to just come and go—within reason. But it felt good. Powerful. She liked it.

She checked in with her probation officer first, a dour-looking, overworked woman with an office pallor, thin dull hair and a fistful of blackheads on her nose.

‘All going well?’ the woman asked, not unkindly.

‘Fine,’ said Lily, and told her about her plans to stay with Becks and to look for a job soon. A lie, but so what? She planned to be too damned busy to waste time becoming a wage slave.

‘I’ll need to visit you sometime soon at that address,’ said the officer, and got out her diary.

Jesus, Lily thought, but this was the deal, she was a lifer out on licence, this was it for the foreseeable future.

‘Fine,’ she said, and they made an appointment for the following week, then Lily left to press on with the real business of the day.

When she banged on the door of the smart detached house near Romford, Adrienne Thomson opened it and her jaw nearly hit the floor.

‘Fuck!’ she gasped out, and started to shut it again.

Lily stuck her foot in the door and put her shoulder to it. Lots of gym sessions in the nick had made her harder, stronger. She wasn’t weak little Lily any more. That Lily was gone.

‘That’s hardly friendly, Adrienne, is it?’ asked Lily, forcing her way into Adrienne’s neat and painfully clean hallway. ‘Trying to shut the door in an old friend’s face.’

If Adrienne Thomson had expected a visit from anyone, it certainly wasn’t Lily King. No one had told her that Lily was coming out. In the back of her mind, Adrienne had known it had to be soon, but she had shied away from that, tried not to think about it. She didn’t want to go there, not now, not ever. It had been bad enough at the time. The police had questioned her for hours on end and it had all come out at the trial. It had caused terrible ructions with Matt. She just wanted to forget the whole thing, and let it lie.

Only it looked as if she wasn’t going to be allowed to.

Lily walked on into the big, sunny lounge and Adrienne followed slowly and stood just inside the door, wondering what the hell was going to happen next.

‘What have you come here for, Lily?’ she asked urgently. ‘Matt’s only just left, he could have seen you…’

Matt was the firm’s accountant – bent, of course, and clever as buggery at manipulating figures, moving money and generally keeping the taxman stumbling around in the dark while the boys enjoyed a very comfy lifestyle.

‘I know he just left. I watched him go.’ Lily turned to her old friend with a frigid smile. ‘I know you wouldn’t want him to see me. I respect that, Adrienne. Why rub the poor bastard’s nose in it, eh?’

Adrienne at least had the grace to look ashamed at that.

Lily looked at her with disdain. Adrienne was still a very good-looking woman, Lily had to give her that. Long, thoroughbred legs, almost as shapely as Lily’s own, and even longer. Her body buffed and golden, toned and tanned. Hair streaked blonde. Pretty dark eyes; nice straight teeth – due more to a dentist’s skill than nature. Wearing a neat white t-shirt, figure-hugging jeans, a huge plaited leather belt slung low on her thin hips, and a lot of gold jewellery. But her face was a fraction too long for beauty, her jaw too pronounced. And she had a miserable face on her, as if life had proved a disappointment. Well, it probably had, married to a dull man like Matt, with his nose always buried in the accounts and – if the rumours were to be believed, and Lily thought they were – a prick like an acorn.

Adrienne had wrapped her arms around herself, as if feeling a sudden chill. It was warm, though: summer. Sunlight was beaming in on all the carefully dusted and polished furnishings.

‘I…I never got the chance to apologize to you, did I?’ Adrienne mumbled. Her eyes rose and they anxiously searched Lily’s coldly set face. ‘I’m sorry, Lils. Truly I am. That thing with Leo…’

‘Thing?’ Lily gave a bark of laughter. ‘Oh, you mean your affair with my husband?’

‘I know it was bad.’

‘Oh yeah. But then that was you, wasn’t it, Adrienne? Always ready to put out at a moment’s notice.’

‘That’s not fair,’ said Adrienne shakily.

‘Oh, so now we’re talking about what’s fair?’ Lily came up to the taller woman and glared at her. ‘How about being banged up for twelve years for something you didn’t do, Adrienne, what do you think about that? Do you think that’s fair?’

‘But you…’ Adrienne’s voice faltered. She bit her lip and lowered her eyes.

‘But I what?’ Lily leaned in close and Adrienne flinched and jerked back. ‘What, Adrienne? Come on. Finish the sentence.’

‘But you…you were found guilty. You…’ Adrienne’s voice trailed away again. She gulped convulsively. ‘You…you killed Leo. They said so at the trial. That he knocked you about and…and had an affair with me…and that night, that same night he’d been with me, he went home, and then…you killed him.’

‘And you believe that?’ said Lily.

Adrienne nodded slowly. ‘You were convicted. You did it.’

Lily nodded. ‘And poor bloody Matt. The poor sod’s still with you, after all that?’

‘We talked it through. I said maybe we ought to split, but he didn’t want to. So we made a go of things.’

‘And you never did anything like that again, after Leo?’

Adrienne shook her head. She’d gone almost pale under her fake tan; it was giving her a jaundiced look.

‘Pardon me if I fucking well laugh,’ said Lily. ‘Bet you’ve had more men than I’ve had hot dinners. You always were the gang bike.’

‘Look, you’ve got no right coming in here, barging into my home saying things like that to me,’ said Adrienne, and her eyes were fiercer now, although bright with unshed tears. ‘Your husband wasn’t exactly fucking perfect, you know. And you couldn’t have been all that, judging from how keen he was to bed me.’

‘You bitch,’ spat Lily, and slapped Adrienne, hard.

Adrienne grabbed at her burning cheek, and suddenly she looked frightened.

She didn’t recognize this person. This wasn’t the Lily she’d known years back. This Lily looked as though she really could kill someone in cold blood.

‘You know, you ought to watch your step,’ said Lily, pushing in even closer. ‘You think I’m a murderess, remember? I do things to people, ain’t that what the judge said? I’m a danger to society! You ought to remember that, next time you feel like reminding me of you and my old man dancing the horizontal tango.’

Now Adrienne was sweating. ‘Look, I didn’t mean…’ she backtracked hastily.

‘Yes you did. You meant every word. And to think he tried to deny it. Did you like the flowers, and – oh yeah – the Tiffany bracelet, the one he never gave me?’

Adrienne looked blank. ‘What Tiffany bracelet?’ she asked.

‘Oh, don’t give me all that old pony.’

‘Leo never gave me anything like that.’

‘Bollocks!’

‘He didn’t! What would have been the point? I couldn’t wear it, could I? Matt would have spotted it straight away and asked where it came from, and I never wanted to upset Matt, not really, he was so good to me.’

‘He was a bloody fool. Turning a blind eye to all your goings-on because he liked a nice, quiet, cosy domestic life.’

‘Matt’s a good man,’ retorted Adrienne.

‘Yeah, but boring as fuck. Or else why were you crawling into my bed and shagging my husband, Adrienne? With Leo constantly denying everything, telling me I was going nuts, and you know what? After a while I actually started to think he was right, I was just going crazy, I was paranoid, just like he said I was. When all the time I was right. Him and you were getting cosy, and all the time there I was being made a fool of. You and him. It makes me feel sick just thinking about it.’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ blurted Adrienne, tears spilling over and streaming down her face, making ugly tracks in her foundation. ‘I loved Leo. I’d have left Matt for him, I told Leo I would, but he didn’t want that.’

‘And what about me in all this?’ shouted Lily in rage. ‘Leo was married. To me. And he had two little kids. How the hell could you have done that, split up my marriage?’

‘For God’s sake!’ Adrienne erupted, throwing her arms wide. ‘You didn’t even love him! You never got over your infatuation with Nick bloody O’Rourke, did you? So can you really wonder that he looked elsewhere?’

You didn’t even love him, thought Lily.

‘You know I’m telling the truth,’ said Adrienne, pushing home her advantage when she saw Lily’s sudden uncertainty. ‘And it’s not as if I was the only one.’

Now Lily stood frozen in shock.

There was a long, long silence.

Then she said: ‘What did you say?’

‘I wanted to be the only one.’ Adrienne swiped irritably at her cheeks, leaving blotchy streaks in her make-up and mascara stains under her eyes. ‘I wanted him to love me like I loved him. But he didn’t. There were others…’

Others, thought Lily in a daze. What the fuck…?

‘What are you talking about? There were no others,’ she said, drawing back, looking at Adrienne incredulously.

And suddenly Adrienne was laughing. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ she gasped.

‘If you’re getting fucking hysterical I’m going to give you another belt round the chops,’ Lily warned her. ‘Now shut it. And tell me what you’re on about.’

‘Oh Lily, and you talk about Matt being a fool. You were so innocent, so bloody little-wifey-indoors that you didn’t even know what time of day it was, did you? You still don’t. You seriously believe it, don’t you? You seriously think I was the only one.’

‘You’re telling me you weren’t? Straight up?’

‘No way was I the only one,’ said Adrienne, and she wasn’t laughing now – in fact she looked sad. ‘Sodding Leo.’

‘Tell me about the other one, then,’ said Lily flatly. She felt as though she’d just stepped into a new nightmare.

‘Other one?’ Adrienne shook her head and let out a guffaw. ‘God’s sakes, Lily! Other one! That’s priceless!’

So Adrienne went on to tell her about the rest of Leo’s ‘girls’, and how she’d hated that there’d been others.

‘I tracked them down,’ she said, and there was a glint of triumph in her eyes as she said that. ‘I tracked them all down. I even had a list of their names and addresses.’

7

Freddy King was in the pub with his brother Si. There was an empty place at the table they always occupied in their local. It was Leo’s place, and Freddy nearly choked with emotion every time he saw it. No one sat there, unless they wanted to start wearing their arse as a neck ornament.

‘She’s out,’ he said to Si.

‘I heard,’ said Si, who was older than Freddy, and wiser. He watched Freddy, who was now tapping a beer mat on the table, tap tap tap. He was on edge, and who could blame him? She was out.

‘So what we gonna do?’ asked Freddy.

‘Do?’ Si lifted a finger and caught the barman’s eye. He indicated their table. The barman nodded. ‘What do you mean?’

Freddy leaned forward. ‘You know fucking well.’ Tap tap tap. ‘That cunt wants sorting.’

The barman came hurrying over and put two more pints on the table.

Si nodded his thanks. Took a leisurely mouthful of beer. Looked at his brother. ‘She’s done her time,’ he shrugged.

‘She ain’t anywhere near paying for what she done, and you know it,’ spat Freddy angrily. He threw the beer mat down and it skidded off the wet table. ‘Twelve years? What the fuck is that? – it’s taking the piss! Our brother’s dead; he ain’t coming back and walking free like that bitch is.’

‘All in good time,’ said Si. He leaned in and lowered his voice. ‘What, you want to get yourself banged up? Do anything right now and the Old Bill won’t have far to look, will they, you tosser? You’re always in a fucking rush, that’s your trouble.’

Freddy’s face worked, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He knew Si was right, but that made it worse. Like he had no control over any of this. Like that cow was in charge, not him, not the King boys.

Si reached out and clasped Freddy’s meaty forearm.

‘Look, Fred,’ he said urgently. ‘Wait a bit. That’s all I’m asking. Give it a year, two years; you can do the bitch any way you want, but right now? Forget it.’

‘Forget it?’ Freddy leapt to his feet and shouted the words. Heads turned. Si gave him a ‘shut up’ look. ‘No, you forget it, Si. I fucking well won’t.’

And he was off, barging across the bar, bumping into punters in his headlong rush for the door. A bloke with a pint slopped all down him said, ‘Hey! Watch it, mate,’ and that was enough.

‘I ain’t your mate!’

Freddy started in, punching the man hard in the jaw. Glass and beer flew into the air. The man reeled back and Freddy piled in on him, punching, kicking, red-faced with fury. Si was there in a second and grabbed his brother, dragging him back, shoving him hard towards the door.

‘Get out of it, you silly bugger,’ he snarled, and Freddy went, the red rage still gripping him – but this was Si, and he always took notice of Si.

They lurched, panting, out into the car park, wary punters skirting around them, shouts and curses following them out.

‘Just keep walking,’ said Si, hurrying towards the car, jumping in, starting the motor. He’d had three pints, but who gave a toss? Laws were for other people, not for him, not for the King boys. Freddy jumped in too. In minutes they were a mile away and Si was just clipping on his seat belt and telling his brother to calm down.

‘You want to keep a lid on that temper,’ said Si irritably.

He felt like he’d been saying that to Freddy ever since the silly git turned two years old. Freddy had never understood the word subtle, but Si did. Si knew that sometimes you just had to think things through and bide your time. He didn’t want Freddy blundering about upsetting Saz and Oli. The bitch was their mother, after all. He had to tread carefully. He would act, but discreetly, choosing his moment with care.

‘Hey! I got every right to be mad,’ said Freddy. ‘She’s out, and now you’re telling me there’s not a thing I can do about it.’ Freddy swore to himself that he was going to sort that cow. He owed it to Leo. Usually he paid attention when Si made his feelings clear, but not this time, no way.

Si sent his brother a sidelong glance as he tore through the lanes. Crisis over, he thought. Freddy seemed calm again. For now. And thank fuck for that, because tomorrow was the wedding, their niece was getting married. Si was giving her away. The last thing any of them needed right now was Freddy kicking off.

8

Lily was sitting in Becks’s kitchen, her head in her hands. Becks put a mug of coffee in front of her, and sat down opposite.

‘So what did Adrienne say? Was it bad?’ asked Becks, chewing gum.

Lily dropped her hands. She stared at Becks.

Becks stopped chewing. ‘What?’ she asked nervously.

‘Did you know about the others?’

A wary smile formed on Becks’s lips. ‘Others?’

‘Leo’s other women.’

Becks’s mouth dropped open. ‘What other women?’

‘Are you bullshitting me, Becks?’

‘No! Absolutely not. What other women? I knew about Adrienne, shit, everyone did.’

Yeah, thought Lily. Everyone did.

The court case had brought that right out into the open. Adrienne’s involvement with Leo had been all over the tabloids, along with photos of Lily, the wronged wife turned murderess.

Adrienne had told her that although the police had questioned her about Leo, she had never said a word to them or to anyone else about the other women in his life. The list was her private property, and the detective who had tracked down ‘those tarts’ was bound by client confidentiality, she’d told Lily smugly.

‘You didn’t think to tell me about Adrienne,’ said Lily to Becks.

Becks looked pained. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you, Lils. I nearly told you a dozen times, but then I thought, would I want to know? And I backed off from it.’

‘You mean you wouldn’t want to know? If Joe was shagging about the place? Really?’

Becks shook her head, her jaw moving rhythmically as she chewed the gum. ‘Nope. Ignorance is bliss, Lils, that’s what I say. Not that Joe would do that. Not his style. And anyway, I’d have his balls for earrings if he did. But come on. My Joe? No way.’

Lily thought back to when ignorance had nearly driven her half mad, with Leo saying she was imagining it all and her own mind playing tricks on her; she’d got more paranoid and more miserable by the day. It hurt her that Becks had kept this huge, awful secret from her. But that was Becks. She’d been a great friend. She’d visited Lily inside – while she was in Holloway, anyway; always cheering, always cheerful, when no one else had bothered. Lily would never forget that. But sometimes, you only ever got half the story from her. And sometimes, you didn’t get the story at all.

‘So what are you saying? What, is there more than one?’ Becks asked, curiosity eating her up.

‘Keep going,’ said Lily, sipping the hot, strong coffee.

‘Two then?’

Lily shook her head.

‘Get out. More than two?’

‘More than three,’ said Lily.

‘Four?’ Becks’s eyes were huge with amazement, her jaw moving like a piston. ‘You’re having a laugh.’

‘Try six,’ said Lily.

‘What the…?’ Becks was gazing at Lily as if she’d gone mad. ‘No. You can’t be serious.’

‘Got it straight from the horse’s mouth. Adrienne’s, to be precise.’

Lily gave a grim smile even though inside she felt sick with the betrayal of it. To learn that Leo had been unfaithful to her with one woman was bad enough; to be told straight out that he was a serial adulterer was painful. All right, they hadn’t exactly been love’s young dream: Adrienne was right about that. Leo had been second-best for Lily, and maybe he had sensed that, who knew? But six women? That was really taking the piss.

Although, thinking about it, she supposed there was a pattern here. The three brothers, Leo, Simon and Freddy, had been sired by a philanderer, after all. Old man Bobby – or ‘Bubba’ as he was more commonly known – King had put it about all over the place, everyone knew that, right up until he fell off the twig. Leo was just following the parental example. Freddy was still single and fancy-free, he could do what he liked. But if Leo had followed his old man’s example and cheated, then it was entirely possible that Si was doing the same, married or not.

If I was Maeve, Lily thought, I’d have my eye on Si right now.

She thought again of Leo, screwing around and then coming home to her. For God’s sake! Their love life hadn’t been all that, but she could have got a dose of anything, the selfish bastard. Anything at all. The thought of that repulsed her, gave her the dry heaves. And it filled her with rage, too. That he’d treated her with such total disrespect; treated her like an idiot.

Lily sipped at the coffee. Tried to get a grip even though she felt she was losing it. Six women. Not one. Six, including Adrienne.

And even if Adrienne’s in the clear, any one of those others could have had a reason to blow Leo’s brains to kingdom come, she thought.

‘Adrienne had him followed,’ said Lily as Becks sat there transfixed. Lily let out a harsh laugh. ‘Can you believe that? She had a private detective on the job. His mistress didn’t trust him. Didn’t mind him shagging the wife, but anyone else? Forget it. Apparently she suspected there was another woman tucked away somewhere, and she wanted to know who. So she hired this guy and he turned up a whole stable of whores, of which she was just one.’

‘Holy shit,’ said Becks faintly. ‘So who are these others?’

‘I don’t know yet. But it certainly puts a different complexion on things, don’t it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ said Lily patiently, ‘I didn’t kill Leo, but someone did. And they were happy to let me do time for it.’

‘You think one of these women…?’

Lily shrugged and stood up. ‘Dunno.’

‘Yeah, but Lily…look, if whoever did it was crazy enough to blow Leo’s brains out, then…well…for God’s sake, they could do it to you, too.’ Becks raised troubled eyes to her friend’s face. ‘You know what? If I was you, I’d just let it lie. Let it go. It’s all past now, anyway. Try and forget it. Move on.’

‘I can’t move on, Becks.’ Lily’s fist hit the table in frustration. Becks jumped. ‘Not until I find out who stitched me up. Lost me my freedom. My home. My kids. Everything I had, they stripped it off me. And I’ve got to know who. And why.’

Becks was shaking her head, her face solemn. ‘Don’t do it. Don’t start in on this, Lils. Bad things could happen to you if you carry on with this, I’m warning you.’

Lils reached over and patted Becks’s shoulder. ‘You’re a good friend, Becks, but come on, get real. Bad things have already happened to me. And I think it’s about time they started happening to someone else. Now, I need to use your phone, is that okay?’

‘Sure,’ said Becks doubtfully, and Lily went off into the hall, closing the door firmly behind her.

When Becks checked the landline later – Lily was in the bath again; Jesus, how many baths could one woman take? – she found that Lily had keyed in 1-4-1 before making her call, so that neither Becks nor her husband Joe could easily find out who she’d been in contact with.

When Lily came downstairs wearing Becks’s spare bathrobe, her smile was hard and cold. Becks looked at her nervously.

‘So!’ said Lily brightly. ‘What am I going to wear to this big wedding then? Hope you’ve got something suitable I can borrow.’

Oh Gawd help us, thought Becks.

9

‘What do you think, Aunt Maeve?’ asked Saz King, turning back and forth before the big cheval mirror in her bedroom, holding out her ruffled skirts, inviting favourable comments.

Saz was feeling pretty damned pleased with herself. She loved being with Richie and couldn’t wait to be married to him. Richie made her feel special, adored. He was a little older than her – eight years – and sometimes she did think: What’s all that about? Was she looking for a father figure because Dad was gone?

Well, maybe she was. Whatever, she felt happy today. She relished being the centre of attention and was eager to marry stoic, stable Richie because yes, all right, with him she felt safe.

Maeve King, Si’s wife, looked at her niece and thought, She’s the most beautiful girl in the whole world but my God! – she’s the spitting bloody image of her mother.

Incredible to think that Saz was twenty-one years old, astonishing to think how fast the years had flown by; how one minute she’d been a bewildered and grief-ridden nine-year-old child, and then the next, pow! All grown up. And so eerily like Lily, too.

‘Oh Saz! I think you look lovely,’ said Maeve, choking back a tear.

She was determined to make this a happy day for Saz, the best of her entire life. She thought of what Si had told her last night, about his brother Freddy kicking off because Lily was out. Maeve thought that Freddy was mental, a bit of a mouth-breather. Si and Leo had always been the brains of the outfit. No one had told Saz that Lily was out. Si would have thrown a fit if they had. He had discussed it with Maeve, of course he had; but they’d agreed it was best that she didn’t know.

‘Do you think the veil’s too much?’ asked Saz.

‘No, it’s perfect,’ said Maeve.

She thought that Saz couldn’t have looked more exquisite if she’d tried. Money was no object, of course; never had been, not in the King family. If a King woman wanted something – a swimming pool, a diamond necklace, a designer wedding dress, voilà! It appeared as if by magic.

Saz was turning and preening in front of the mirror, smiling secretively at her reflection as sunlight poured through the big balcony windows, highlighting her shimmering loveliness in fairy motes of gold and silver.

‘You got your garter on?’ she asked.

Saz smiled and raised the ruffled hem of the dress to reveal white silk Jimmy Choos, white stockings and a blue berib-boned garter. ‘Right here,’ she said.

‘Don’t let him twang it,’ warned Maeve with a laugh. ‘That’s a family heirloom, that is.’

Think your mother wore it too, shot through her brain, then she wished it hadn’t. She frowned. Why did she have to keep thinking of Lily today?

The answer was simple: she was taking Lily’s place; so, even if Lily wasn’t here, her spirit was hovering over the proceedings like a rotten odour. They’d all moved on with their lives. Maeve and Si had become guardians to their two nieces, and to lessen the upheaval for the girls they had rented out their own place just up the road and moved into The Fort. They had never used the master suite; too many memories, and all of them unsettling.

‘Where’s the car? Isn’t it here yet?’ Saz was now demanding fretfully, going to the window, looking out.

Saz might look like Lily, but deep down she wasn’t like her mother at all. Saz was quicksilver, but Lily had been like rock: calm, immovable, a bit of a house mouse really, but with an aura of stillness and strength about her. Maeve could still remember the first time she’d ever seen Leo weave his testosterone-and-bling-laden spell over Lily. They’d all been crowding around his flash car after school – they’d all been mates, all familiar with each other – and the other, bolder girls, Mary and Becks, Adrienne and Julia, had been all over Leo and his pals like a rash: teasing, flirting, flashing their big smiles, their coltish legs and their pert, perfect teenage boobs. Maeve had joined in a bit, although she was no beauty, not like some of the others; but Lily had hung back, uninterested.

Maeve shook herself.

This was Saz’s big day and she was going to make sure that she enjoyed it. It was not Lily standing there, but Saz, Maeve told herself firmly. But Maeve remembered that she had been a bridesmaid when Lily had married Leo in eighty-seven. Maeve had thought Lily might go for a Princess Di-type thing, all puff sleeves and full skirts, but Lily had stayed true to type and worn a simple ivory shift – with a large bouquet of cream roses to conceal the bump of her pregnancy.

And here was the result of that pregnancy, standing before Maeve now. A beautiful full-grown woman who shared her mother’s bone-deep and effortless brand of glamour. Lily had always looked good – Maeve had envied her that. Maeve had to work hard at looking good, particularly now an early menopause had hit her like a ton of shit and she’d gained two stone almost overnight.

Maeve had made a special effort today, because she was acting as ‘mother of the bride’, wasn’t she? Today of all days, Maeve had to look good. So she had squeezed her short, dumpy form into pull-in pants and a fuchsia pink silk dress and matching jacket, with a little ‘fascinator’ clip-on waterfall of feathers and flowers sitting atop her streaked blonde new Judy Finnegan-type hairdo.

But looking at her lovely niece she had to admit that, beside Saz King, she just looked like mutton done up as spring lamb.

Jesus, just look at her, she thought.

Saz was wearing a tight-fitting pearl-studded gold satin bodice that showed off her full breasts to their best advantage, tapering down to display a neat waist before flaring out into a huge, impossibly full skirt that was a cascade of opulent cream silk ruffles. The train was small, balancing the massive length of the skirt. Saz’s long blonde hair was swept up behind a pearl-encrusted tiara. Her face, with its neat nose, large, serious, navy blue eyes (now those weren’t like Lily’s, and thank God for it) and wide, smiling mouth had been professionally made up. She glowed with radiance. Suddenly she turned to Maeve and grinned.

‘It’s here!’

Maeve looked out. The Rolls-Royce Silver Phantom, cream and decked out with white ribbons, was coming up the drive.

‘I’ll give your Uncle Si a shout,’ said Maeve, and took herself off to find him.

‘And where the hell is Oli?’ Saz shouted after her.

‘You’re not supposed to do that,’ said Oli King sternly, pushing her dark curling hair out of her eyes and ignoring the almost unbearable, palpitating heat of desire that was sweeping over her. She sneaked a look out through the stable door when she heard a motor passing. ‘And look, there’s the damned car and I’m supposed to be in there helping Saz…no, don’t do that…’

Oli was eighteen to Saz’s twenty-one, and she thought that her sister Saz had been born old. She, however, had not. She wasn’t planning on getting married, settling down, all that boring load of bollocks, not ever. She planned one day to live on the Left Bank in Paris and have a lot of lovers. Beyond that, she hadn’t planned much at all. But then…then she had met Jase.

‘Do what?’ asked Jase, his fingers busy inside the terracotta-coloured silk bodice of her bridesmaid’s dress.

‘That,’ she snapped, although the rough touch of his hands against her cool-skinned breasts and hard, urgently aroused nipples was driving her insane. ‘Stop it. Or I’ll tell Uncle Si on you.’

Jase worked for Si. Doing what, Oli was never entirely sure.

Ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies: that was the family motto. Obviously it was Jase’s motto, too, because whenever she’d tentatively skirted around the subject of what he actually did for Uncle Si, Jase was always evasive. He was

Head of Security at the family club, she knew that, but that wasn’t all he did for Si and Freddy, she just knew it. There were too many nights away, too many hushed phone calls and delivering packages, too many times when he was distracted or distant.

Jase was gorgeous, though. Curly dark hair, big shoulders, narrow laughing dark green eyes. He looked great in the morning suit he was wearing, a white carnation in the buttonhole. He’d said she looked great in the terracotta-coloured dress, too, and had promptly brought her in here and tried to get the damned thing off her.

Oli hated dresses anyway. She lived in jeans and t-shirts. High heels killed her. It was all very well for Saz, poncing about like Lady Muck, but she hated all this show. She was happier here, in the old disused stables, with Jase. If only he’d behave.

‘You’ve got fantastic tits,’ said Jase, popping one out of the top of the bodice to admire it more easily.

‘No…’ moaned Oli, but when he put his mouth to her breast, lapping the nipple with his tongue, she stopped protesting. She was absolutely smitten with Jase. She loved all this. She’d been terrified the first time, terrified and sort of flattered too. Because Jase had told her he loved her, and then he’d done it to her, and it had been her absolute first time, very quick, brutally sexual, and quite painful. And then had come the wait, the horrible, anxious wait, and the fear. I could be pregnant, she’d thought over and over, feeling sick with dread.

That was how she felt most times they did it now – sick with terror as well as desire.

‘We’ve got time for a quicky,’ said Jase, already lifting her skirts.

‘No we haven’t,’ said Oli, thinking: Oh shit, not again.

‘Yes we have.’ He nuzzled into her neck. ‘You let me last time. You liked it.’ He took her hand, stroked it over the bulge in his trousers.

Oli groaned. She felt nearly incandescent with need now. She had liked it. But they’d used no protection, nothing, and she’d been so relieved when her period had come on. She looked down. He’d unzipped himself and now he was holding his naked penis, hugely engorged and aroused, in his hand. ‘Come on, Oli. You know you want to…’

Oh, and how she wanted to. She was so lucky to have Jase for her boyfriend, she knew that. He could take his pick of the girls in their circle, but he’d chosen her, she was such a lucky girl and she didn’t want him thinking she was a complete washout; she couldn’t bear the idea of him going off her, going with one of the many others who were just waiting for their chance with him.

Sometimes in life you have to make instant choices, Oli knew that, and she was impulsive by nature, she liked to make her decisions quickly.

She made this one without any further hesitation. She tore off her knickers, leaned back, parted her legs, lifted her skirts.

‘All right. But only put it in a little bit, okay?’ She was panting.

He put it right in. Way in. She gasped as it slipped into her wetness like an eel through water. Oh, it was good.

But too quick, too quick again, leaving her throbbing, not sore but restless, unfulfilled. And afterwards she felt more sober. Her period was already late and she knew that until it came, she’d be in a state of horrible anxiety. An unplanned pregnancy didn’t figure in her Bohemian dreams of the future. Not at all.

10

The bells were ringing and so was Si King’s head as the Silver Phantom rolled up at the church, him and his lovely niece resplendent in the back, him wishing he hadn’t bothered with the pub last night. Trust Freddy to start acting up because that bitch Lily was on the loose again. Jesus, his head was throbbing. He’d have to tap Maeve up for some aspirin. She always carried a stash of supplies in her handbag.

Patience was Simon’s forte. It wasn’t Freddy’s, and it hadn’t really been Leo’s either. But Si always played the long game. And he was going to get Lily sorted, but not unless he could be one hundred per cent certain that he could fix it to look accidental. He’d been thinking about it, and he thought that maybe he could. He didn’t want to upset the girls in any way, not if it could be avoided; there was always that to be considered.

‘Now what the hell’s Oli up to? She’s going to ruin her hair,’ said Saz from behind her veil.

Si looked. Oli was outside the vestibule with Jase, one of his boys. Jase and a couple of the other security guys were acting as ushers today. She was trying on his top hat, knocking her flowered headdress askew, laughing up at him as he grinned back down at her.

Si thought that Oli’s hair was beyond ruining. It was wild, dark and curly, and nothing would tame it – a bit like Oli herself. He frowned as he gazed out at the handsome couple indulging in shameless flirtation. Maybe he ought to mark Jase’s card for him today, tell him to back off a bit. He’d been considering this for a little while; he’d noticed the play between the two of them was getting a bit more serious. Jase was a smart youngster, a good worker, but a chancer; he’d see Oli as a good ticket to advancement in the King organization and Si could tell that he was working the old charm on his gullible niece like a pro. Yeah, definitely time to have a word. Didn’t want the silly little git getting Oli up the duff or anything drastic like that. Then he’d really have to step in, and Jase would be sorry.

‘She looks beautiful,’ Si said smoothly to his flustered niece.

‘She looks tatty, just like she always does,’ fretted Saz.

‘She looks lovely, and so do you. Now relax. Enjoy the day.’

The vicar was standing just inside the porch now. Jase had gone back inside.

Smart move, you little arsehole, thought Si, his headache making him irritable.

Oli was there by the vicar, patting her headdress back into place, rosebuds and bits of greenery tumbling out of it, her expression one of extreme innocence as she smiled over at her uncle and sister. Looking like butter wouldn’t melt. Si wasn’t fooled. Saz was cool; Oli was the hot one. He guessed that Saz’s Richard wasn’t in for much fun tonight, but if he’d been marrying Oli, it would have been quite another story.

The uniformed chauffeur was opening the car door.

‘Well, here we go,’ said Si, and gallantly helped his niece alight from the car. ‘Time to get married, young Saz.’

It was a lovely ceremony. Everyone said so. All the mob boys and their wives were there, decked out in their best. The church was overflowing with cream floral arrangements to match Saz’s dress, and when she walked up the aisle there were audible gasps from among the guests, she looked so astonishingly beautiful. Many of them thought, so like Lily, but they would never have said that aloud. Some things you just didn’t mention, not on a day like today. Not unless you wanted to get your teeth back in an ashtray from one of the King boys. The Kings were crim royalty, you didn’t upset them, it wasn’t wise.

Richard stood at the altar, beaming with pride as Saz walked towards him. His smile remained all through the reading of the vows, which he stumbled over endearingly. But Si – and Oli – caught the slight frown of irritation on Saz’s brow as he did that.

Little Miss Perfect, thought Oli. Jesus, Saz was such a spoiled madam.

Maeve stood there beside Si and watched the whole thing with a tear in her eye. She’d caught the frown too. She knew Saz had been spoiled, far more so than Oli, because Saz had been more affected by what had happened all those years back. She’d been older; she’d understood more of what was going on. And so Maeve had tried doubly hard to help the little girl come to terms with her loss. Tried to give her as normal a life as she could.

Then came the signing of the register, and the newly married couple emerged from the vestry looking so happy.

‘She’ll have his bollocks on a skewer before the year’s out,’ muttered Freddy King to his mate.

Richard was a quiet guy who did small jobs for Si and Freddy; he was a good worker, but needed to grow a backbone. You only had to look at Saz King to see she was a ball-breaker extraordinaire. Gorgeous, though. But Saz’s mum was a nut job. How far could the apple really fall from the tree?

Organ music was echoing around the church and now the couple were walking back down the aisle, smiling at their friends and relatives, Saz looking as stately as a queen, nodding around at the sea of faces like a ham actor taking plaudits.

‘How long do you give it?’ hissed Freddy.

His mate shrugged. ‘Six months? Maybe nine if she drops a sprog quick.’

Saz and Richard went out into the sunshine, the guests piling out behind them, throwing confetti. Saz was giggling and picking bits of multicoloured paper out of her hair when she saw the figure standing nearby, very still, just watching.

The woman standing there had Saz’s own face, but it was calmer, sterner, older but no less beautiful. She was shabbily dressed in a creased and rumpled cream linen suit that fitted where it touched. It looked as though it had been made for someone a foot taller than her, and it hung around her like a shroud. She was perched on high white stiletto heels that had sunk into the grass and were now muddy from the soft earth. Her blonde hair was scraped back into a careless ponytail. She wore no make-up.

Saz froze. The woman smiled slightly. Saz went sheet-white.

Richard was looking at her, wondering what had happened.

She’d gone from laughing to dead-faced and looking on the verge of fainting away, all in the space of seconds.

‘Saz? What’s up, sweetheart?’

‘Oh my God,’ mumbled Saz, clutching at her throat, looking like she might actually throw up.

‘What…?’ Oli had come forward, wondering what sort of drama-queen act her big sis was putting on now, Jase trailing behind her. Si and Maeve came out, chattering and smiling, and then abruptly the chattering and smiling ceased, and the only sound was the bells ringing, and even that sound was no longer cheerful and joyous. Now the bells sounded like death knells: ominous, threatening.

‘Jesus, it’s her,’ hissed a woman in the crowd.

The whole party stood stock-still and looked at the woman standing there, her eyes full of desperate love, her face naked with longing as she looked at the beautiful bride, the stunning bridesmaid.

Lily felt tears start in her eyes as she looked at them. Her girls! Her lovely girls!

Oh God – they were so grown up! But she knew them; she still knew them. And they knew her, she could see it in their eyes. But…they didn’t look happy to see her. It hurt so bad, to see the horror and the…yes, the disgust on those beloved faces. But she was going to get over that. She would have to do hard work, win them over, make it all right again. They thought – they had been duped into believing that she had killed their father. Somehow, she was going to have to show them that it wasn’t true. That she was still their mother, that she loved them.

Tentatively, she started forward. She could see Si King and his wife Maeve standing a little behind Saz, and Freddy was there, staring at her with hatred in his eyes. Well of coursehe hated her, he thought she’d done it, but she hadn’t. She hadn’t. Somehow she was going to show them all, prove it to them.

Somehow.

She walked forward, her heart thudding in her chest like a bass drum. Her hands were clammy. Becks’s high heels were too big for her and the pointed heels kept sticking in the ground, so she staggered slightly, but she kept that faint smile on her face, determined to reassure her girls, not to frighten them. No, she would never do that, but she had to make them see that she was still their mum, she still loved them.

Saz shrank back as Lily approached.

Abruptly the bells stopped pealing and the silence was shocking. Lily stopped walking and stood there, two paces away from her daughters, her eyes going from one to the other, a tear slipping down her face as she looked at them with an expression of hope and wonderment.

‘My beautiful girls,’ she said, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

Saz moved suddenly, startling everybody. With a shriek, she hit Lily with the huge and exquisite bouquet she was carrying. Cream roses flew, pulled loose by the impact. Lily fell back, raising an arm to shield herself, her expression almost comical with hurt and bewilderment. Saz hit her again, and again. Trying to protect herself, Lily saw Oli make a half-gesture towards Saz, maybe to get her to stop, maybe to help her beat her own mother, Lily didn’t know. She staggered back, hobbling, one heel catching in the turf. Ignominiously, she fell, pitching backwards onto the ground, all the wind knocked out of her.

‘Murderess!’ yelled Saz as Richard tried to hold her back.

‘Jesus, Saz, stop it,’ he said, his face a mixture of embarrassment at his new wife’s behaviour, and disbelief that she should have the brass neck to show up on a day like this.

‘I won’t stop it! She killed him! She killed my dad!’ Now Saz was sobbing, struggling, still trying to reach Lily, still trying to inflict damage.

Trembling, Lily knelt up on the muddy turf. Her hands were dirty; there was a smear of mud on Becks’s linen dress. She got to her feet and found that one of the heels on the white shoes had snapped. She hobbled lopsidedly, a pathetic figure before a huge crowd of hate-filled onlookers.

Lily swallowed and swiped at her eyes, leaving a trail of mud on her cheek. She could take hatred from the others, but from her own girls? From Oli? From Saz? But that was what was written clearly on their faces. They hated her.

Now her eyes were searching the crowds, seeing the expressions that were a mixture of horror and obscene delight. Some of these bitches would be dining out for a month on this day. No doubt about that. She saw Maeve there, not far behind Saz, looking oddly triumphant, and there was Freddy, looking at her as though he would like to slit her open right now. Looking at her as if she was a marked woman, living on borrowed time. Which she was. She knew she was, but she didn’t much care. Doing stir got you like that. You just got through it. Somehow, she had. And now all she cared about was proving to her girls that she was not their father’s killer. Anything else, she didn’t give a toss.

Then she realized that she could no longer see Si in the crowds. Anxiety was suddenly gnawing at Lily’s innards. Lily had always thought Si was like one of those big spiders you see sometimes on your bedroom wall – so long as you could see where he was, you felt okay. Worried, but okay. But when Si slipped out of sight, you had to wonder now what the hell’s he up to? Si was all secrets and schemes. Freddy would be dangerous if he had half a brain, but at least he’d always come straight out with it. Si was the true danger.

She shouldn’t have come here. Becks had been right. She was aware of how shabby she looked, wearing ill-fitting borrowed clothes and shoes. She knew she’d been so long inside that she’d forgotten how to present herself to the world, how to behave. She knew she’d made a wrong move. She knew she’d have to pay for it, too.

She stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks, flinching from the look on Saz’s face, all twisted up with hatred, and her eyes came to rest on Nick O’Rourke’s face in the crowd – Leo’s best man, his best friend, his business partner. Dark hair, nearly black eyes with a hard, unforgiving expression in them. Tall and broad-shouldered and wearing a morning suit like he’d been born to it. He stared back at her, and very gently shook his head.

For God’s sake, his eyes said. What the fuck are you doing?

Lily bowed her head, defeated. She didn’t know what she was doing. That was a fact. Her own daughter had just assaulted her; she was cringing inside with hurt and horror. Saz hated her. She glanced up, looked at Oli. Against her dark hair, Oli’s face was blanched white. Her eyes were resting on her mother, but not with warmth. She was staring at Lily as she would at a deranged stranger, likely at any moment to freak out and inflict damage.

Lily thought miserably, That is exactly what I’ve done here. I’ve ruined Saz’s day, she’ll never forgive me now.

Not that there had been much chance of that anyway. But she had to try, didn’t she? Even if she’d got off to a disastrous start. Supposing she got the chance, after this?

Her eyes searched the crowds. She still couldn’t see Si. That was worrying. That was frightening.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said loudly, the words half choked with tears. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.’

And she turned and limped off, feeling their eyes boring into her back, feeling their hatred, feeling like shit.

11

‘So…how’d it go?’ asked Becks.

Lily looked up from the kitchen table and gave her friend a mirthless smile.

‘How does it look?’ she asked bitterly. She had come back dirt-smeared, limping, sobbing her heart out. Talk about stupid questions! Seeing Becks’s recoil of hurt, she added: ‘Sorry.’

Lily dragged her hands over her head, rubbed at her tired, teary eyes. ‘Sorry, Becks. I shouldn’t take it out on you. It was a fucking disaster. And I’m sorry, I’ve ruined your bloody shoes too. I’ve ruined everything.’

Becks sat down opposite. She reached out and patted Lily’s hand. ‘Bugger the shoes,’ she said, unwrapping a new pack of gum. She popped it in her mouth. ‘Don’t matter a bit. They were only cheapies. But I told you you shouldn’t have gone.’

‘Oh, thanks a bunch for that, Becks,’ snarled Lily. Then she shook her hands in front of her face, clutched at her head. ‘Sorry, Becks. I’m sorry. I just had to see her, today of all days…Jesus, Becks, my own daughter’s wedding and I didn’t even know the damned thing was happening, how do you think that made me feel? Like a fucking reject, that’s how. Which is what I am. I’m a bloody pariah. They looked at me…shit, they all looked at me like I was unhinged. Like I was going to cut their throats or something. And the girls. My girls…’ Lily’s voice trailed away. She shook her head. She couldn’t even get the words out.

‘Did…Si King see you there?’ asked Becks cautiously.

Lily looked up at her friend’s face. ‘Yeah,’ she said, fighting back more tears. ‘Oh yeah, he saw me. And Freddy too.’

‘Shit,’ said Becks, her chewing going into overdrive. ‘You gotta watch them two, Lily. You’ve got to be more careful.’

‘Why?’ Lily gave a mad laugh. ‘I ain’t done anything! And even if I had, I done the time for it. I done someone else’s time, Becks. Not mine. Someone else’s. Do you think that’s right?’

Becks shook her head.

‘No. Well neither do I.’

‘But Lily,’ Becks’s voice was tentative, her expression uneasy, ‘what can you do about it? It’s all too late now. It’s done. And you know what I think? I really think the best thing you can do is…take off somewhere. Just go away. Somewhere new. Start again, make a new life for yourself.’

Lily looked at Becks in surprise. ‘What?’ she said at last. ‘Just…go away? Forget my girls? Forget that some arsehole fitted me up for all this? You ain’t serious.’

‘I am,’ said Becks, leaning forward and stabbing the table with a French-manicured fingernail to emphasize her point. ‘I’m completely serious, Lils. If you stay around here…what will you do? How will you live?’

‘I’ve got plans,’ said Lily stubbornly.

‘Lils, listen to me for the love of God. The Kings got it in for you. You know that. It’s only a matter of time before they make their move, and…’ Becks’s voice faded. She stared at the table.

‘And what?’ prompted Lily.

‘And…look, I’m sorry, Lils, but Joe…he’s not happy about any of this. He don’t want trouble with the King brothers. Who’d want that? You’d have to be mental to upset that pair.’

Lily was staring at Becks’s face. Her eyes were still averted, avoiding contact with Lily’s own. ‘So what are you saying, Becks?’ she asked, but she knew, she knew what was coming.

‘Joe thinks, I mean, we think, that…oh fuck it all, Lily, we don’t think you should stay here any more. I’m sorry.’

Lily’s face was a mask now, hiding her hurt, hiding her shock. This was Becks, after all. Her best friend in all the world.

‘They’ve talked to Joe, have they?’ she asked, and her voice sounded small, strained – not her own.

Joe was on the firm: everyone in their circle was on the firm. Antagonizing the Kings was not a sensible option.

Becks said nothing. She nodded. Lily saw it then, in Becks’s eyes – the fear. She didn’t mind helping Lily, but there was a line and Lily had crossed it. It was all very well to help a mate in trouble, but when that help put you in bother with the Kings, then you had to say, enough.

‘I don’t mind if you want to tell the probation people you’re still staying here,’ said Becks hurriedly. ‘I talked to Joe about it – he don’t mind doing that much. We’ll cover for you, if you want.’

‘Right,’ said Lily. ‘Yeah. Okay. Thanks for that. I’ve got an appointment to see her here next week…’

‘No probs. You show up, I’ll be here, it’ll be cool.’

‘Right.’

The perfect end to a perfect day. Her daughters hated her guts and now Becks was turfing her out the door. Lily was dry-eyed now, numb with the shock of it all.

The doorbell rang.

‘I’ll get it,’ said Becks, glad of the interruption. Lily could see the relief etched on her face as she bolted from the kitchen and along the hall. She heard Becks talking to someone, a man’s voice, light and husky. For a moment her heart leapt into her throat and she thought: Si King, oh God help me, or is it that lunatic Freddy?

Becks came back into the kitchen. She didn’t bring the Kings with her. Lily, pale-faced and wretched, looked up at her. Becks’s expression was awkward, her glance slipping away from Lily’s.

‘It’s the private detective bloke,’ she said. ‘The one you phoned.’

Lily had forgotten she’d made this appointment. She’d forgotten everything, in the excitement of getting to the church to be humiliated, rejected. An image of Saz’s white, horrified face came into her brain again and she squeezed her eyes shut to block it out. The pain was awful.

She opened her eyes and stood up. She was still wearing the cream linen; it was creased to hell now. She hadn’t even had a wash since she’d got in, she’d been too shocked, too hurt. She scuffed on her trainers and left the kitchen, shutting the door behind her. She went along the hall to speak to Jack Rackland, who she hoped could work miracles. Somehow, she doubted it.

12

He wasn’t what she had expected. Actually she didn’t know what she had expected, some seedy old weasel of a bloke with thin hair, a raincoat and a dewdrop hanging off the end of his nose maybe, but the man who stood at the door in no way matched that description. He looked to be about thirty-five, and he was bulky but not fat, medium height, neatly turned out in a well-fitted suit, shirt and tie. He had a good head of straight dirty-blond hair, a tanned intelligent face and very direct heavy-lidded light blue eyes. He was a good-looking man, and that surprised her. Not a weasel at all.

And here I am looking like shit, thought Lily, embarrassed.

‘Mrs King?’

‘Yeah, that’s me.’ Lily made an awkward gesture back at the kitchen. ‘Look, we’d better walk, my friend’s busy…’

She didn’t want to take him in the house, not after what Becks had said. She had some pride left – not much, admittedly – and she wasn’t about to infringe on Becks’s territory when it had just been made clear that she wasn’t welcome there any more.

‘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.

She crossed the road and started walking back along the rows of houses toward Becks’s place when a long black car pulled in to the kerb. A man jumped out of the back, grabbed her arm, and yanked her off-balance.

‘Hey!’ she yelled, but her feet went from under her and she was half carried, half pulled into the car. She found herself lying across the back seat with a man on either side of her. Fear shot through her like a hot knife through butter.

Oh shit, she thought, Freddy King.

‘What the…?’ she gasped out.

One of the men, a huge bruiser, lifted a thick finger and pointed it at her. She remembered Freddy, outside the prison, pointing his finger at her like a gun. Yeah, this was Freddy’s work all right. ‘Shut up,’ he said.

Lily shut up. The car zoomed off. She was trapped. She was finished, even before she had properly begun.

13

There were four of them in the car, and she thought they were just going to drive her somewhere, hurt her, then finish her off. She could hear her heart beating like a trapped animal’s, she was so scared. Her bowels felt liquid, her stomach was churning into knots. Oh God. She didn’t know how she was going to get through this.

How you get through everything, she thought. Alone.

Her eyes filled with tears; it was weak but she couldn’t help it. She really was alone. Completely alone. Her friend had abandoned her. Her daughters, her lovely girls, had rejected her. She would never, ever forget the expressions on their faces when they’d seen her at the church. Hatred. Fear. Loathing. It was more than any mother could take.

And now, this. The end of it all. She was terrified, but she was also sort of relieved. It would be over. All the suffering. All that time she’d done, and all for nothing. All for someone else’s crime. Now she was tired, and so alone. She didn’t mind dying; but she hoped they didn’t hurt her too much first.

She thought they would. She saw it again, Freddy King outside Askham, aiming his finger at her, mouthing the words: You won’t see it coming.

And guess what? She hadn’t. He’d got that right.

The light was going as the car crunched onto gravel and skidded to a halt. Sudden silence descended. Into Lily’s mind came Saz’s face, filled with hate and horror. She screwed her eyes tight shut, held back the tears. She’d wanted so much to make things right, and now she wouldn’t get the chance. That stung her, hurt her bad. Her lovely girls. Lost to her forever.

They flung open the car doors and she was manhandled out onto the drive of a big house. She noticed nothing else about it, only that it was big. She was nearly shitting herself with fear now. Why had they brought her to a house? Why hadn’t they just driven her off into the forest, topped her there?

She was bundled into a hallway; big again, huge – maybe Victorian, she hadn’t a clue. Terror was freezing her brain like dry ice. Then into a room with an empty fireplace – it was summer, too hot for fires – but a nice room. Sofas in it, the smell of polish in the air. She was shoved down onto one of the sofas.

‘Wait there,’ said one of the faces.

Jesus, the King boys are going to drag this out, she thought numbly. They’re going to get their money’s worth out of this.

The men left the room. She sat there, swallowing hard, trying not to succumb to total hysteria. She glanced over at the long closed curtains. Perhaps there were French doors there, an escape route?

The inner door opened.

‘It’s locked,’ said a low, masculine voice. ‘All the windows are locked. In case you were wondering.’

Lily turned her head.

Nick O’Rourke stood there, leaning casually back against the door, a big and threatening presence with his dark hair gleaming in the subdued light of the room, watching her steadily with his nearly black eyes, his gaze very intense. He still wore the black morning coat he’d been wearing at the church, but he’d removed his tie and opened his shirt collar.

Lily braced herself. She hadn’t known Nick was in tight with Freddy and Si. He’d been best man, best friend and business associate to Leo, but his relationship with Leo’s brothers had – she thought – never been anything other than cool. Obviously she thought wrong.

‘What the hell…?’ she said weakly.

‘What the hell is right, Lily.’ Nick O’Rourke walked forward and flopped down into an armchair. ‘Like, what the hell are you playing at?’

He stretched out his long legs and his calf brushed against hers. She flinched back as if burnt.

‘I don’t know what you’re on about,’ she said. She looked at the inner door, knowing that any minute now the heavies were going to come back in and start working her over. New alliances had been made, alliances she knew nothing about. Ignorance wasn’t bliss at all. It was going to be the death of her.

Just get on with it then, she thought. Let’s have it done.

‘What I’m on about is this,’ he said, and his voice sounded strained, as if he was making an effort to control his temper. ‘Are you stark, staring mad?’

Oh, so first he wanted an apology for something. ‘You mean, turning up at Saz’s wedding today?’ she asked, having to cough to get the words out, her throat was so parched from fear. ‘Okay. I admit it. It was a stupid thing to do. All right?’

‘Stupid?’ The dark, dark eyes widened as he stared at her. ‘Oh, no Lily.’ He gave a bark of laughter, but he didn’t sound at all amused. ‘You’ve gone way beyond that point on the road. You passed stupid right back at the last fucking roundabout. Now you’re driving through mad. What the hell were you thinking?’

Lily swallowed hard, blinked back more panicky tears.

‘I wanted…’ she gulped. ‘…I just wanted to see them. Saz getting married, how could I miss that?’

He was shaking his head, his eyes moving over her. Lily cringed, very aware of what she looked like: mud-spattered, crumpled, tear-stained; a complete and utter wreck.

‘And look at the fucking state of you,’ he said in irritation.

As if that’s going to matter now, she thought.

‘I just…had to be there,’ she said lamely.

‘No, Lily, you didn’t. Si was there. Freddy was there. You didn’t have to be there at all, are you totally insane? Do you for one single minute think that your daughters wanted to see you there today? Do you think they behaved as if they were glad to see you? I suppose that silly cow Becks told you about it?’

Lily shrugged. She wasn’t going to drop Becks in it; she couldn’t grass up a mate – even if Becks had made it clear to her that she wasn’t welcome any more. That wasn’t her fault, anyway. Becks was just frightened, and she was right to be frightened: her and Joe didn’t want trouble with the Kings.

‘Yeah, I bet it was,’ he went on. He looked exasperated. ‘Fuck it, Lily, how long you been out?’

‘Yesterday. I got out yesterday,’ said Lily.

‘And today you’ve upset the whole bloody applecart. Jesus, that must be some sort of record.’

Lily swallowed hard. All right. She knew she’d messed up. But she’d been desperate, couldn’t he see that?

‘They’re my girls,’ she said, and her voice was a little fiercer, a bit stronger.

‘They. Don’t. Want. To. Know. You,’ he said with brutal emphasis.

‘No…’ Lily shook her head, denying it, blanking it out even though she knew he was right.

‘Yes, Lily. It’s the damned truth. How would you feel, if your father’s murderer pitched up at your wedding?’

Lily was still shaking her head, biting back more bitter tears. She’d dated Nick O’Rourke before she got involved with Leo but now she wondered why. He was such a bastard. Leo had been all flash, gold rings winking in the light, thick gold chains around his neck, everyone’s big brother, the one with the barrel chest and the big booming laugh; you could hear him in the next street, doling out cash and champagne and bonhomie to all and sundry. But Nick…Nick had been her very first love, her forever regret in life. She’d been seriously and hopelessly in love with him before Leo had come on the scene. Seeing him in the years that followed at parties, weddings, christenings, always with a new girl on his arm – Nick the playboy – had hurt badly at first, but the hurt had been dulled over time. And then he had married the exquisitely beautiful Julia, Leo’s cousin. That had hurt Lily, too, but only distantly; the pain wasn’t so fresh, she wasn’t a besotted young girl any more. Life had gone on; they had taken different paths. She had accepted that.

Nick was so different to Leo. Quieter, darker – cleverer and more cunning, she had always thought. If Leo was sun and brightness, then Nick was the magnetic pull of the dark. Nick didn’t put all the goods out in the shop window for all to see; he kept something back. He was a thinker. It made him more dangerous than Leo could ever have hoped to be.

And who better to get Leo out of the picture? thought Lily suddenly. His business partner. His oldest and best friend. Suspicion would never fall on Nick, but Leo could have screwed him on a deal. Nick was a brooder; he remembered every slight inflicted upon him back to the cradle. Nick could have decided he’d had a gutful.

‘You’re such a bastard,’ she said it out loud, felt better for it.

‘Yeah, but I’m the bastard who’s pulled your arse out of the crap today,’ said Nick, unmoved by her words. ‘Freddy went ballistic when you showed up, he was saying he was going to do all sorts.’

Lily stared at him. ‘And you thought you’d come in on your white charger and whisk me away, did you?’ Her voice was trembling with emotion. Most of it was rage. He’d scared her witless, him and his bloody boys. And now – was she hearing this right? – he was saying that he’d had her snatched, brought here, just because Freddy King was mouthing off as usual?

‘Something like that.’ He gave a thin smile.

‘Freddy’s always threatened all sorts,’ she said.

‘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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