Jail Bird. Jessie Keane

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       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 СКАЧАТЬ