name. Most people do.”
Roz chuckled. His name was Michael Jackson.
“Of course I remember Olive. Called her “Dumpling”, didn’t I, and she called me “Flower”. Get it, dear? Because of my name, Lily. There wasn’t an ounce of harm in her. I never believed what they said she done and I wrote and told her so when I heard where they’d sent her.
She wrote me back and said I was wrong, it was all her fault and she had to pay the penalty.” Old wise eyes peered shortsightedly at Roz.
“I understood what she meant, even if no one else did. She never did it but it wouldn’t have happened if she’d not done what she shouldn’t have. More tea, dear?”
“Thank you.” Roz held out her cup and waited while the frail old lady hefted a large stainless steel teapot. A relic from her job on the tea trolley? The tea was thick and charged with tannin, and Roz could hardly bring herself to drink it. She accepted another indigestible scone.
“What did she do that she shouldn’t have?”
“Upset her mum, that’s what. Took up with one of the O’Brien boys, didn’t she?”
“Which one?”
“Ah, well, that I’m not too sure about. I’ve always thought it was the baby, young Gary mind, I only saw them together once and those boys are very alike. Could have been any of them.”
“How many are there?”
“Now you’re asking.” Lily pursed her mouth into a wrinkled rosebud.
“It’s a big family. Can’t keep track of them. Their mum must be a grandmother twenty times over and I doubt she’s reached sixty yet.
Gyppos, dear. Bad apples the lot of them. In and out of prison that regular you’d think they owned the place.
The mum included. Taught them to steal soon as they could walk. The kids kept being taken off her, of course, but never for very long.
Always found their way home. Young Gary was sent to a boarding school approved schools, they was called in my day did quite well by all accounts.” She crumbled a scone on her plate.
“Till he went home, that is. She had him back on the thieving quicker than you can say knife.”
Roz thought for a moment.
“Did Olive tell you she was going out with one of them?”
“Not inso many words.” She tapped her forehead.
“Put two and two together, didn’t I? She was that pleased with herself, lost some weight, bought some pretty dresses from that boutique her sister went to work in, dabbed some colour on her face.
Made herself look quite bonny, didn’t she? Stood to reason there was a man behind it somewhere. Asked her once who it was and she just smiled and said, “No names no pack drill, Flower, because Mummy would have a fit if she ever found out.” And then, two or three days later, I came across her with one of the O’Brien boys. Her face gave her away, as sunny as the day is long it was. That was him all right the one she was soppy over but he turned away as I passed, and I never did know exactly which O’Brien he was.”
“But what made you think it was an O’Brien anyway?”
“The uniform,” said Lily.
“They all wore the same uniform.”
“They were in the Army?” asked Roz in surprise.
“Leathers, they call them.”
“Oh, I see. You mean they’re bikers, they ride motorbikes.”
“That’s it. Hell’s Angels.”
Roz drew her brows together in a perplexed frown. She had told Hal with absolute conviction that Olive was not the rebellious type. But Hell’s Angels, for God’s sake! Could a convent girl get more rebellious than that?
“Are you sure about this, Lily?”
“Well, as to being sure, I don’t know as I’m sure about anything any more. There was a time when I was sure that governments knew better how to run things than I did. Can’t say as I do these days. There was a time when I was sure that if God was in his heaven all would be right with the world. Can’t say as I think that now. If God’s there, dear, He’s blind, deaf, and dumb, far as I’m concerned. But, yes, I am sure my poor Dumpling had fallen for one of the O’Briens. You’d only to look at her to see she was head over heels in love with the lad.”
She compressed her lips.
“Bad business. Bad business.”
Roz sipped the bitter tea.
“And you think it was the O’Brien lad who murdered Olive’s mother and sister?”
“Must have been, mustn’t it? As I said, dear, bad apples.”
“Did you tell the police any of this?” asked Roz curiously.
“I might have done if they’d asked, but I didn’t see no point in volunteering the information. If Dumpling wanted them kept out, then that was her affair. And, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t that keen to run up against them. Stick
