Jail Bird

Lily didn’t answer.

‘When you all came out of Becky’s, I followed the car. At a distance. I was careful the men didn’t see me. I parked over the road. Then they went away, and the lights were still on up here, so I thought, I’ll go over, she’s alone, I can talk to her, ask her why she did it.’

‘Oli—’ said Lily.

‘But I couldn’t!’ Oli let out a wild little laugh. ‘I bottled it again. Then the lights went out. And I thought, all right, I’ll wait until morning.’

‘You’ve been sitting out in the car all night?’ Lily asked.

Oli nodded, wrapping her arms harder around her body, her feet tapping on the floor, her movements frenetic, jittery.

Again Lily had to quash the urge to hug her. Instead she stood up. ‘Let’s have a cup of tea, and some toast, and we’ll both start to feel a bit better.’

She went into the little kitchenette and made the tea, found bread in the freezer and put four slices in the toaster. Then she found butter, jam, milk, cups, plates, cutlery, put it all on a tray and came back into the small sitting area. She put the tray on the coffee table, poured out the tea, buttered the toast and slathered jam on it. Then she pushed a mug and plate over to Oli.

‘Here. For God’s sake eat something and drink some tea, you must be frozen.’

‘What, playing mother? It’s a bit late for that,’ said Oli sharply.

Lily flinched, but she knew how Oli must be hurting. She had to soak it up. ‘Better late than never I s’pose,’ she said lightly, and started in on the toast although she was almost choking with nerves. Her daughter, her lovely little Oli, was sitting right here in front of her, looking as though she might leg it at any second, but she was here, thank God, she was here.

Lily swigged down some tea; it steadied her a little. She could see the food and drink having a similar effect on Oli, although she was only nibbling at the toast, she was too uptight to relish it.

‘They said…’ Oli’s eyes suddenly filled with tears as she spoke. ‘Aunt Maeve said he was having an affair with that horrible woman, that Adrienne Thomson. And that he’d been hitting you.’ A tear spilled over and ran down Oli’s face. She pushed her hands into her hair. ‘You know, I don’t remember much of what happened when Dad…when he died, or when you were taken away.’

‘Much?’ queried Lily.

‘All right, I don’t remember anything around that time. Except that you were both there…and then you were gone.’ She threw her half-eaten toast down and shoved the plate away. ‘I can’t eat this.’

Lily pushed hers away too. Her throat had closed as she saw the misery in Oli’s eyes. ‘Oli,’ she said urgently. ‘I didn’t do it.’

‘What?’ Oli was looking at her open-mouthed. Then she shook her head. ‘You were tried and convicted. You were found guilty.’

Lily was shaking her head. ‘No…’

‘Yes,’ said Oli, shouting now. Now the tears were falling, she was sobbing, nearly hysterical. ‘I never saw him hit you. Not once. Saz never saw that either. That was a lie.’

‘Oh Jesus, Oli…’ Despite herself, Lily found herself reaching out, trying to bridge the huge, horrible gulf between them.

‘Don’t you touch me!’ Oli snapped, cringing back.

Lily held up both hands and slowly drew back. Okay, okay.

‘I didn’t do it, Oli. That’s the truth. Someone fitted me up for it. That’s the truth too. I would never, ever have done such a thing to you. I would have slit my own throat first, Oli. I promise you that.’

Oli was silent now, watching her. She swiped a hand over her eyes. Picked up the mug of tea and sipped it, tried to gather herself.

Poor little cow, thought Lily. How the hell has she managed to cope with this? No mother. Her father dead. And the horror of knowing what had happened to bring all that about. Oli was eighteen, a young adult now; but in her eyes Lily could see nothing but the frightened, bewildered child she had been back then.

‘The silly thing is,’ said Oli finally, ‘I want to believe you.’

Lily took a gasping breath. Oh, Jesus, could she make this right? Could it really be possible? She didn’t dare believe it, not yet. But she could see that Oli was having doubts. And if she was clever enough, cunning enough, then she could open that tiny crack in Oli’s armour, get inside and win her daughter back.

Saz would be quite another matter. But Saz wasn’t here.She’d have to face that particular battle later, and she wasn’t looking forward to it at all.

‘They on honeymoon? Saz and…what’s his name, the groom?’ she asked.

‘South of France. Only for a week,’ said Oli, her eyes fixed on Lily’s face. ‘Richard’s got work to get back to: he works in the business for Uncle Si and Freddy. Him and Saz are going to move into our place when they get back.’

‘Ah.’ Lily knew that ‘the business’ covered a multitude of sins–literally. Ask any of the King brothers or Nick O’Rourke where they earned the vast amounts of dosh to pay for mansions, fast cars, holidays in the Caribbean and extremely high-maintenance blonde girlfriends and wives, and they would say ‘import and export’. It was only true insofar as ‘the business’ was a blind for other, more lucrative and less law-abiding activities.

‘Oli,’ said Lily. ‘I’d like to come home.’

Oli stared at her mother, her expression at first puzzled and then, as she took in the full meaning of what Lily had just said, horrified. ‘You what?’

Lily decided it was time to start milking it. ‘I can’t stay here. It’s strictly temporary, one night only, a favour from Nick. Becks and Joe don’t want me there. I’ve got nowhere to go to, Oli. Nowhere at all.’

It wasn’t true, and she hated lying to Oli, but fuck it. She wanted to go back to her own home. She had to go back there. She was prepared to kick any obstacle out of the way to achieve that goal, too. Up to and including Maeve and even Si King–somehow. She didn’t know how yet. Si King wasn’t so much an obstacle as a fucking great concrete wall, but somehow she was going to have to break the bastard down. If he didn’t break her down first.

Oli jumped to her feet. ‘You can’t be bloody serious,’ she burst out. ‘Home? You ruined our home, destroyed it. How can you, how do you fucking well dare say that to me?’

‘I’ve got nowhere else, Oli,’ said Lily. She was going for the sympathy vote, exploiting the softness she sensed in Oli, the willingness to be persuaded that her mother wasn’t a murderess after all.

She had to get back into The Fort. It was essential; everything depended upon it.

‘Forget it,’ snapped Oli, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘I don’t…I really don’t know why I came here…’ she said, dragging a hand through her hair.

‘You came here because you wanted to see me,’ said Lily. ‘And because you don’t believe I was guilty, not really.’

‘You were convicted.’

‘I was framed. I didn’t do it. And I need…’ Lily hesitated, choosing her words carefully now…‘I need to come home, Oli. I need to be home with you.’

In Oli’s eyes, Lily could see despair, desperation. Oli wanted her mother back. Oli had missed her. She could see it. She hated playing with Oli’s emotions this way, but it had to be done.

Oli shook her head.

‘Oli…’

‘No! I can’t talk about this now,’ said Oli, and ran to the door, and was gone.

And there went that chance. Lily sat there, feeling shattered and frustrated. To see Oli so close…but so distressed, so tormented. She’d blown it; all her soft words hadn’t worked. She felt tears start in her eyes, tears of anger and self-pity, and blinked them away. She refused to cry. She sighed deeply, stood up, started gathering up the breakfast things.