She's Out (33 page)

‘Angela, can you hear me? Angela? It’s Julia.’

The girl lolled forward. Julia tested her pulse, which was very weak, and began to pour water down her throat from a jug Connie had brought in.

Dolly was shown into the Governor’s office. She was freaking out: being in the visitors’ section was bad enough, but now, in the office, she hated it. All she
wanted to do was leave.

Mrs Ellis had tea brought in. She was friendly and seemed to want to discuss Kathleen’s wish that Dolly become her children’s legal guardian.

Dolly sipped the tea, refusing to meet Mrs Ellis’s eyes, looking anywhere but into her face.

‘Do you have a job?’

‘Not easy at my age but I’ve got a few things I’m working on.’

‘I know about your application to the social services. Dolly, to run an institution requires training and people with qualifications.’

‘It was just a home, Mrs Ellis. This place is an institution. But it doesn’t matter now, I was rejected, they didn’t think me suitable, and if you don’t mind I
don’t want to discuss it further.’

‘If you need any help in the future . . .’

‘I won’t, thank you.’

‘You know, Dolly, it isn’t wise to keep up some friendships you make inside. It is much better to make a clean break.’

Dolly slipped the cup and saucer back on to the desk. ‘Thank you, and thank you for the tea, but I’ve got to leave now.’

Mrs Ellis stood up, put out her hand to shake Dolly’s but she was already at the door.

‘Will we be seeing you again?’ she asked, still forcing herself to be pleasant.

‘No, I won’t come back. Goodbye.’

Mrs Ellis sat back in her chair. Dolly had looked well, almost affluent, stylish, but she was hard, a brittle quality to her every move, and she had not smiled once. An unpleasant woman, Mrs
Ellis mused, but then her attention was drawn to other matters and Dolly Rawlins was forgotten.

The ambulance rushed Angela to hospital. Julia had gone with her but left when Angela was taken into the emergency section. Gloria had been upset but by the time Julia returned
she was arguing with Connie, saying it wasn’t anyone’s fault but Angela’s and she wasn’t going to waste any pity on her. She could have got them all arrested.

‘She’s only eighteen,’ Julia snapped, irritated.

‘Yeah, so was I when I first went down but I still never grassed anyone. She’s got no morals, coming here, playing us for idiots.’

‘The way we all tried to play Dolly?’

‘No, we fucking didn’t,’ screeched Gloria.

‘Yes, we did,’ Connie said stubbornly.

‘Well, it’s all going to change soon, isn’t it?’ Julia said quietly.

‘What you mean?’

Julia sat down. ‘We think she’s planning a robbery.’

Gloria gaped. ‘I knew it – I fucking knew it. Soon as those shotguns was missing I said to Ester, I said to her, “She’s got something going down,” and I was
right.’

Connie shifted her weight to the other foot. ‘I wish to God in some ways I’d never come here. I never done anything illegal in my entire life.’ Gloria snorted and she glared.
‘I haven’t. I’m not like you, Gloria. We all know what you are.’

‘Oh, yeah, what am I? You tell me that.’

Ester had come in, unnoticed, and answered, ‘A loud, brassy tart. So what’s all the aggro?’

‘Where’ve you been?’ Gloria asked.

Ester took off her coat and chucked it over a chair. ‘Talking to that half-wit Raymond Dewey. Dolly wants to know the times of the mail train.’

Gloria’s jaw dropped and she drew a chair close. ‘Is she gonna hit the security wagon, then? One that does the drop for the mail train?’

Julia crossed to the back door. ‘If she does, it’s madness. According to Norma they have the place sewn up. The local police come out in force, cut off the lanes. There’s no
main access, we’d never get a vehicle near, never mind one that’d carry anything away.’ She pushed at the broken door and sighed. ‘This is crazy, you know, even discussing
it.’

Ester looked at her. ‘No harm in it, though, is there? Unless you’d prefer to talk about Norma. Do you want to talk about Norma?’ Ester repeated the name with a posh, nasal
twang. Julia pursed her lips. ‘Oh, have I hit a sore point? Don’t want to talk about Noooorma, do we?’

‘No, I don’t. And stop being childish.’

‘I’m not being childish. It’s you that’s got all uptight and your little mouth is all pinched up. All I’m doing is making conversation about Norma.’

Julia glared, then half smiled. ‘Jealous?’

‘Who me? Jealous? Of what? Norma? Oh, please, do me a favour. I couldn’t touch anyone with that arse anyway.’

Julia opened the door. ‘You don’t have to, but I do, and it’s quite tight, actually.’ Ester’s face twisted in fury. ‘She has a very good seat, as they say in
riding circles.’

Julia was out of the door, shutting it behind her, before Ester could reply. She was pleased: Ester’s jealousy was proof that she cared.

Dolly drew up and parked outside Ashley Brent’s electrical shop. She squinted at the meter and shook her head with disgust: twenty pence for ten minutes – it was a
disgrace! She walked to the boarded-up door of the shop, rang the bell and waited. Eventually a voice asked who it was.

‘Dolly Rawlins.’

There was a cackle of laughter and the sound of electronic bolts being drawn back before the door opened. Ashley Brent stood in the centre of his shop floor, arms wide, his glasses stuck on top
of his bald head. ‘As I live and die. So you’re out then, gel. Give us a hug. You’re looking good, sweetheart. How long you been out, then?’

‘Oh, just a few months. Takes a bit of getting used to, especially those ruddy parking meters.’

‘Don’t tell me. I mean, in the old days you could find a broken one, use it for the day. Now they tow you away if it’s busted, tow you if you’re a minute over, tow you
for any possible excuse. What they don’t do is tow the fuckers that block off the traffic. I’m telling you, everything nowadays is geared to get the punter, Doll. You’re screwed
in this country if you got a leg it business, taxed, VAT . . . It’s like we got the Gestapo after us for ten quid rates due but then you hear of blokes coining it and they’re on social.
Makes you sick.’

Ashley was a man who had verbal diarrhoea and it was always the same: he hated the Conservatives, hated the Liberals, the Labour Party, the blacks, the Jews. In fact, Ashley was a man who
existed through his own venom and it was rumoured that when he went down for a short spell, his cell-mate had asked to be moved because Ashley even talked in his sleep. He offered tea, more verbals
about the council estate across the road and, lastly, his kids. He went into a tirade about his thankless bastard kids and Dolly waited, looking around the equipment in the small, secure shop.
Ashley was an electronic genius and ran a business loosely labelled as security devices and trade equipment. In fact, he sold bugs, receivers, transmitters, microphones. You name it, Ashley had it
in his well-stocked shop and workroom. He ran a strictly cash deal for those wanting certain items and kept no record of them being purchased. Dolly spent three hours with him and left with a
briefcase and a small carrier bag. He had filled and checked her parking meter as she sat and learned how to handle the equipment. It was mostly simple but a few items were more complicated. He was
patient and gave good advice, yet never pressed for details as to exactly what the items would be used for. Whatever else Ashley was, he was totally trustworthy. You paid for that. Dolly gave him
ten thousand pounds cash.

She was now very short of readies to pay the builder. Even with the money from Audrey and the guns, it was running out fast.

Susan Withey opened the door.

Dolly smiled sweedy. ‘Hello, I’m Mrs Rawlins.’

Susan hesitated. ‘Mike’s not here.’

‘Ah, pity. Well, could I come in? I want to talk to you.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I do. It’s about Angela, your husband’s little girlfriend.’ Susan stepped back and Dolly pushed past her. ‘Oh, this is very nice. You do the decorating yourself,
do you?’

Susan shut the door and followed Dolly into the sitting room.

It was after seven and they were all waiting for Dolly, not sure whether to start supper without her, wondering what she’d been doing all afternoon.

‘There’s a car coming up the drive now,’ Gloria said, ‘but it’s not Dolly. Looks like a flash Mercedes or some-thin’.’

Ester ran into the hall and looked through the broken stained glass in the front door. She tore back.

‘Get rid of them. They’ll want me. You tell them I don’t live here any more. Get rid of them, Gloria.’

‘Why me?’

‘Because you’re so good at it.’ Ester shot into the kitchen, pushing Julia back just as the doorbell rang.

Gloria opened the front door. ‘Yeah?’

‘Ester here?’

‘Ester who?’

‘Freeman.’

‘No. Sorry.’

Gloria tried to shut the door but it was kicked open. The man was swarthy, handsome-ish, with dark heavy-lidded eyes, a slightly hooked nose and thick oiled-back hair.

‘Eh, what you doing?’ Gloria shrieked.

‘I want to speak to Ester.’

‘She don’t live here, well, not any more. She sold this house.’

Gloria was lifted off her feet and hurled against the wall. She screamed but he gripped her face between his hands and pushed her head hard into the wall three times until she was too terrified
to scream. She just stared wide-eyed.

‘You tell Ester we need to speak to her, understand?’

Gloria nodded as he slowlv released her and then as if to make sure the message was understood he swiped her with the back of his hand and she fell to the floor. She didn’t get up, not
until the front door closed behind him. Then she slowly staggered to her feet as Ester peered out of the kitchen.

‘Well, thanks a fuckin’ bundle for that,’ said Gloria, touching her nose. ‘He whacked me into the wall, whacked me in the face and you friggin’ let him do
it.’

‘Was it Hector?’ Ester asked as she peered out of the broken window.

‘I dunno who it was – he was too busy whacking me to give me his fuckin’ name. Look what he done to me face.’

Julia held Gloria’s face between her hands and pressed her nose. ‘It’s not broken.’

‘Oh, great, I should be grateful for that, should I?’

They all jumped as a car tooted and Ester shrank into a corner. ‘Shit, are they back?’

Connie went over to the door.

‘
Don’t open it
,’ Ester hissed.

‘It’s Dolly,’ Connie said. ‘She’s driven on round to the backyard.’

‘Don’t say anythin’ about this, Gloria,’ Ester pleaded.

‘Well, she might just notice me nose is red and bleedin’ and me blouse torn,’ Gloria retorted in fury.

‘Look, they want money. I’ve not got it so just cover for me – you know how she can get.’

Dolly called out, and they all turned towards the door. They couldn’t believe their eyes.

Kate and Mary were twins aged nine and Sheena was five. They all had bright curly red hair like their mother, round white faces with blue eyes, and were dressed in an odd assortment of charity
clothes. They were sullen-faced as if they had been crying and they clung tightly to each other in fear.

‘These are Kathleen’s kids and they’re moving in.’ Dolly held up her hands. ‘Don’t anyone say anything. There was nothing I could do about it, they’re
here, so let’s make the best of it. Can someone get a room ready or two? Do you want to sleep together?’

The three little girls nodded in unison and clung even tighter together. ‘Right, let’s get your coats off. Connie, bring their cases in from the car and someone put some supper on
and get a room aired . . .’

Gloria turned away. ‘I’ll do it. I just fell down the stairs and hit me nose so I need to go and wash me face.’

Mike charged in. Susan was sitting on the sofa, clutching a handkerchief.

‘Has she left?’

‘Yes. I went into the hall to call you and when I went back she just said she had to leave.’

Mike marched up and down. ‘What did she want?’

Susan stood up and hit him. ‘She told me about you and that Angela. She’s pregnant, did you know that? That bloody tart you’ve been screwing is pregnant.’

Mike closed his eyes and sank down on to the sofa.

‘Well? What are you going to say? Don’t you have anything to say to me?’

‘What else did she want?’

‘
Isn’t that bloody enough
?’

Mike leaned back. At first it was just treacle he’d felt round his shoes, then ankles, then it felt like cement. Now it felt like someone had fitted him with a straitjacket. Susan waited
but he didn’t say a word. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her, and he stayed there, eyes closed, head back, trying to assimilate everything, sort it out in his head. What did Dolly
Rawlins want? He never even gave Angela a thought – he was too concerned with himself.

Beneath the coffee table, which was placed against the wall, was a 13-amp adaptor. A table-light plug was fixed into one but in the other socket was a plug, not connected to any electrical
appliance. The switch was turned on. The plug was a neat transmitter, that Mike was even paying for. Not that he knew or even contemplated that anyone would be bugging him. But Dolly was. She had
inserted the plug the moment Susan had left the room.

‘Neat, isn’t it?’ Dolly said, as she showed the women the second 13-amp adaptor she’d bought. She then showed them two pens that were also transmitters,
pens you could even use to write with. They stared like a group of kids at the equipment: the small receivers, the black box and, lastly, the briefcase that would enable Dolly to open up three
electronic channels and record anyone she had bugged.

‘What’s all this for?’ Ester asked.

‘What do you think?’ Dolly said, as she studied the leaflets.

‘You planning on bugging us?’

‘Don’t be stupid, Connie. These are to be put to good use.’

Dolly glanced up at the ceiling as she heard a soft cry. She said to Gloria, ‘I thought you told me they were asleep.’

‘They were last time I looked in but it’s a strange house, Dolly, and, well, they’re scared.’