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.
