She's Out

by Lynda La Plante

  “You’re gonna have to go, the night staff’ll be on duty any minute and we’re not allowed to have anyone in here.”

  “Okay. When can we do this again? Only—if I leave the cop shop, I don’t want to walk out to nothing. Is the pay decent?”

  They talked about the money and Mike brought the conversation gradually round to what kind of work he would be looking at, asking if it was boring and involved just driving around the country. Colin grinned. “No way, this is one of the top companies, we don’t deal in small stuff—this is big. That’s why they like us Army boys, you know, men that can handle themselves. We’re shifting big loads of money.”

  “Oh yeah? What you call big, then?”

  Colin gave a shifty look around and leaned in close. “Come and have a look out in the yard, see the new vans. They’re all armor-plated, blow your mind, all work on timers, high-tech stuff. We do the Royal Mail deliveries.”

  Mike looked suitably impressed and followed Colin into the yard where he was told in an awestruck whisper just how much money the security firm carried, before Colin hustled him out. They arranged to meet for a drink the following night. By then Colin would have made inquiries to see if there were any openings for someone with Mike’s experience.

  Dolly switched off the lights and got out of the car. It had been a long night and she was exhausted. She couldn’t wait to get to bed but as usual she toured the house first, checking who was in and who wasn’t. Julia was still out, so was Connie, and Ester was watching a late-night movie.

  “Julia called, said her mother was really bad and that Norma’s staying over with her.”

  Dolly smiled. “Well, that’s good, give them time to talk.”

  Ester made no reply, eyes on the film.

  “You’ve still got to sort out those carriage links, you know, Ester.”

  “I’ll do it tomorrow, after the morning ride.”

  “Okay—and at the same time sort that business out with the tape.”

  Dolly was about to go up to bed when Ester asked, “Where’ve you been, then?”

  She swung the door back and forth. “Checking out that copper. I think we can trust him.”

  Ester turned from the TV set. “Well, I hope you’re right.”

  “So do I.” The door closed silently behind her.

  Ester went back to watching the film, but she was angry that Julia was with Norma, and couldn’t really concentrate on what was going on.

  “She’s back, then,” Gloria said as she walked in.

  Ester switched off the TV. “She’s driving me nuts, wants to find out how to unhitch a train carriage.”

  “Well, that’s easy.” Gloria yawned. “Get some Semtex and blast them apart, that’s what I’d do. She’s got a screw loose if she thinks you or me or all five of us could lift one of them heavy links. All you need to do to get a carriage loose is blow it apart, never mind farting around trying to unhitch it.”

  Dolly listened to them, hearing every word. She wondered if Gloria was right, if they should use Semtex and where they could get hold of some. Then she sat on the bed looking at her notes and plans for the robbery, laid out just like Harry used to do it. She took out the small earpiece and tossed it onto the briefcase, no longer interested in the conversation below. Maybe they were right: maybe she did have a screw loose, because she had now decided that the best place to hold up the train was dead center of the bridge.

  Dolly heard Gloria’s bedroom door bang shut. After a few moments she got up off the bed and, pulling her own door slightly ajar, listened. She could hear muffled weeping. She went out into the corridor.

  Gloria had her face buried in the pillow, trying to make as little noise as possible. She hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. She suddenly jerked back when Dolly touched her. “You go creepin’ around like that you’ll gimme a bleedin’ heart attack,” she said, shrugging Dolly’s hand away.

  “What you crying about?”

  Gloria shook her head. “Sad movie on the telly.”

  “What happened with Eddie, Gloria?” Dolly sat down on the side of the bed.

  Gloria sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand, and then decided there was no point in lying. “He knew the guns was here and he said the filth paid him a visit, said they was gonna book me on murder, like they knew I was drivin’ that fuckin’ car. They told him about Jimmy Donaldson.”

  Gloria pushed her head into the pillow. “Well, it wasn’t me, an’ if they come after me for that then I’ll tell them it was that cow Angela. I’m not taking the rap for that.”

  Dolly straightened the candlewick bedspread. “They got nothin’. If they had, love, they’d have sorted us out—and fast. They got nothin’ on that car.”

  “And you’d know, would you?” snapped Gloria.

  “Yes, I’d know. So, go on about Eddie.”

  Gloria suddenly deflated and the tears started to fall. “He grassed us, Dolly, he told them about the guns. He admitted it.”

  “I see,” Dolly said softly.

  “No, you don’t see, Dolly, you don’t see at all. He’s my husband and he stitched me up. All the years I stood by him, probably would have waited, you know—I mean, he’s not much but he is my husband.” Gloria sniffed again, and then shrugged her shoulders. “Well, now you know, do you want me to pack me bags? I’ll understand, I don’t wanna walk but I reckon you got a right to kick me out.”

  Gloria didn’t expect the gentle embrace, and it made her want to sob even harder. Dolly held her a moment, stroking her bleached-blonde hair, and Gloria could hardly make out what she said, she spoke so softly. “’S’all right, love, I understand. You stay on here because I understand.” Dolly took out a crumpled tissue and handed it to her. “You’re hurting now, probably always will, but it gets easier, believe me, it gets easier.”

  “You’re all right, gel, you know that?” Gloria whispered as Dolly left the room.

  Dolly washed her hands and face, wiping the tissue across her cheeks. There were no tears, she didn’t think she had any left, but she’d felt that hurt, that pain inside, like a knife. She saw his face again, saw him standing waiting for her in the darkness, the lake behind him as dark as the night. And yet his face was so clear, as if lit by a pale flickering light.

  “Hello, Doll.” He had lifted his arms to embrace her and she had moved that much closer. She hadn’t wanted to miss. She’d wanted to shoot him in the heart.

  Chapter 15

  Jim hugged Connie tightly. He was feeling very drunk but not as drunk as Connie had hoped. He’d had three pints in the pub and one and a half bottles of wine at home, plus two of Dolly’s sleeping tablets, and he was still going strong, his face flushed, his eyes unfocused, but no way was he about to pass out.

  “I love you,” he said, hanging his head.

  “I love you too,” she lied.

  “You do? Is that the truth?”

  “Yeah, I love you, Jim.”

  He stepped back, arms wide. “I don’t believe it. You love me?” She was getting really pissed off with him. Then he got down on his knees in front of her. “Listen, I know we haven’t known each other very long but I own this house, I mean, on a mortgage, right? But I own it and my car and . . . you really love me?” He kissed her hand, getting a bit tearful. She passed him another drink and he gulped it down. “I need a drink to do this, I never thought I would, okay, give me another . . .” She poured the remains of the bottle into his glass and he swallowed that too, still on his knees. “Will you marry me?” He looked up into her face as he slowly fell forward, his arms clasped around her legs, unable to keep himself upright.

  “Jim. Jim?” She squatted down beside him and gave him a shake but he was out for the count. She slipped his duvet around him and put a pillow under his head before searching his pockets and looking through his wallet. Connie then searched every drawer and closet as he snored away, now curled up on his side. She was about to give up when she saw a small diary at his bedside. She flicked throug
h it: just the odd memo about dental appointments and mortgage payments but listed at the back was a neat row of numbers. She jotted them down, not knowing if they meant anything or not, then turned off the lights and let herself out.

  Connie waited for the late-night bus and still had a long walk home at the other end. It was raining and she got soaked, so by the time she got to her bedroom she was in a foul mood. She couldn’t sleep straight away because she still felt angry; she was being used, she told herself, almost as much as when she was with Lennie. Well, she wasn’t going to take much more of it. Let one of the others get pawed all over, she was well and truly sick of it. She even felt a bit sorry for Jim, who’d obviously fallen hard. She wondered if he’d remember asking her to marry him in the morning.

  Connie tossed and turned, and then felt terribly sad. She realized Jim was the only man in her entire life who had asked her to marry him. She gave up on trying to sleep and decided to make herself a nightcap.

  Connie was surprised to see Ester sitting in the kitchen in her dressing gown, her hands cupped round a mug of hot chocolate.

  “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

  Ester shook her head. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t sleep for thinking of Julia being with Norma. “You have a good night?” she asked.

  “Depends what you mean by good,” Connie answered, leaning against the Aga. “I found some numbers in his diary. They may be the codes, they may not be, I dunno. He asked me to marry him.”

  Ester looked up. “What?”

  “Yeah, funny, isn’t it? He’s a nice guy, and so’s the builder bloke, but all their niceness does is make me miss Lennie.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t stop thinking about him.” She fetched a mug and spooned in some Horlicks.

  “Well, you’d better stop bloody thinking of him. Especially after what we all did to get rid of his body.”

  Connie poured hot milk into the mug and stirred it, then joined Ester at the kitchen table. “Why is it I go for the bastards of this world and not the nice blokes?”

  “Because, sweetheart, you’re a sucker.”

  “I am not.”

  “Course you are. Lennie beat the living daylights out of you.”

  “He loved me in his way.”

  “What way? Who you kidding? He had you on the game and you call it love? He’s not worth even thinking about—no pimp is.”

  “He wasn’t my pimp.”

  “Pull the other one and grow up. He wanted you back on the game. That’s why you ran off and left him, so don’t start fantasizing that it was all lovey-dovey and he’d have you in a cottage with kids and roses round the garden gate. He was a piece of shit.”

  “You didn’t even know him,” Connie retorted.

  “I didn’t have to. Know one, know them all. And you got so used to being his punchbag you—”

  “I wasn’t!”

  “Yes, you were!” Ester pushed back her chair and took her dirty mug to the sink, slamming it down on the draining board. “You got loving all confused with being smacked, sweetheart. Wallop, I love you. Beat me up and it means you love me even more—but then, when he’s got you on all fours, crawling like a dog, he’ll give you one last kick and you’re out, used, abused and your head fucked up.”

  “You’d know, would you?”

  “Yes,” Ester hissed.

  “That why you go with women?”

  Ester whirled and slapped Connie’s face hard. “You don’t know anything about me. But lemme tell you, I know men, know them better than you or anyone else in this house ever will. You make me sick, moaning about that two-bit punk. Instead of bleatin’ on about how much he loved you, you should thank Christ he’s out of your life.”

  Connie put her hand to her cheek. “Oh yeah, my life’s so much better now, is it?”

  Ester shrugged. “It might be. I guess it depends what happens.” Then she walked out.

  Norma took her time washing up the supper dishes, feeling awkward in the strange, old-fashioned house. Julia’s mother was very ill; the stroke had robbed her of speech and movement, and she lay in her bed, her eyes open wide, as if she was staring at the ceiling.

  Julia had been shocked to see her so immobilized and, as a doctor, she had quickly assessed her condition and known instantly she would need round-the-clock nursing. It would be impossible for her to remain alone at the house, even with a housekeeper. She had sat beside her mother for most of the evening. She had a lot to say to her, but they had never really talked and now they never would. Her mother would never speak again. Julia even had to change her as she was incontinent, had washed her as if she were a baby, cleaned the bed and tidied her thinning white hair. She had not said a word but Norma thought her gentleness was touching. Now Julia sat staring at the silent figure, knowing a home was the only option left to her as a nurse was out of the question financially.

  Julia held the frail, bony hand. “Oh Mama, we should have talked. I’d have liked you to know who I was but, well, it’s too late now.”

  Norma peeked in. “I’ve cleared the dishes and cleaned the kitchen a bit. It was a bit grimy.”

  “Thank you.”

  Norma could tell Julia didn’t want to talk to her, that she somehow resented her presence. She crept to the bed and looked at the old woman. She made not a sound, didn’t move a muscle. There was just the vacant stare.

  “You can share the bedroom with me,” Julia said quietly.

  Norma whispered that she would go downstairs and watch television, and crept out again. Norma was trying her best, but all this creeping around made Julia want to scream.

  She began to pack her mother’s nightwear, hairbrush and toiletries into a small bag, ready for the move. She would check all the homes that would take her and arrange a private ambulance in the morning. She opened and shut drawer after drawer as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her mother, carrying the garments back and forth to the open case on a low bedside chair. She thought she should perhaps put in some bed jackets or cardigans and started to search through the dressing-table drawers. She saw the newspaper-clippings, hidden beneath a fine wool shawl. At first she didn’t think anything of them but then, as she removed the shawl, she couldn’t help but notice the headline: “Local Doctor in Drug Scandal.”

  Julia’s heart pounded. She sat down on the dressing-table stool and got out the neat stack of clippings. They detailed her arrest for possession of heroin, the charges for selling prescriptions and her trial and sentence. The secret she had so painstakingly kept from her mother, all the years of lying and frantic subterfuge had been a waste of time because all along she had known.

  She screwed up the clippings into a tight ball and hurled them into the waste bin but it was a while before the anger rose to the surface, and she turned to the silent figure in the bed.

  “You knew! You knew, all those years, and you never told me, you never talked to me!”

  In the drawing room below, Norma heard the banging and scraping and quickly ran up the narrow staircase. When she got to the bedroom, she stood at the doorway, frightened, as Julia shook her mother’s bed until it rattled, until the old woman seemed about to roll out of it.

  “No, Julia! No, stop it! For God’s sake, stop this!”

  Julia then turned her fury on Norma. She was ready to lash out at her, at anyone who came near her, but Norma was quite able to take care of herself and gripped Julia tightly. “Julia, it’s me, it’s Norma, stop this . . .”

  “She knew, Norma. All the years I’ve broken my fucking back keeping it away from her, and she knew.”

  Julia stormed out of the room. Norma didn’t understand what she was talking about but she quickly settled Mrs. Lawson back on her pillows and tucked in the bedclothes. She leaned over the bed, touching the frail, wrinkled hand. “It’s all right, she’ll be fine.”

  Norma felt such sadness as the mute figure’s helpless fingers tried to hold on to her and tears rolled down her cheeks. “Don’t worry, you�
�ll be taken care of, Mrs. Lawson, and I will look after Julia.”

  Only the tears indicated that the old lady understood.

  When Norma went into Julia’s room, she found her lying on her bed, the bed she had used as a girl, with fists clenched, cursing her own stupidity.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, upset her like that,” Norma said quietly.

  “What do you know?” Julia spat angrily.

  “Well, maybe she can’t talk but she can hear, Julia.”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  Norma began to massage Julia’s back. “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t,” Julia said, her face buried in the pillow.

  “Try me,” Norma said softly.

  Julia rolled over and looked up into her face. “This was my bedroom, and you know something? I knew I was gay when I was about twelve or thirteen. She was a stable girl at the local riding school and we came back and we did it in here, then Mother served us tea. We laughed about that.” Julia sat up and leaned against Norma. “I wanted to make her understand . . . I wanted her to know who I was, Norma, but all she wanted was for me to be married and have kids. She still asks . . .” Julia mimicked her mother asking if she had a boyfriend and then she bowed her head. “You know, maybe she’s always known I was a lesbian but could never bring herself to talk about it.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “Get her into a home tomorrow, sell this place and that’s it. There’s nothing for me here. Maybe there never was.” She sounded resigned.

  Later that night Norma washed Mrs. Lawson. She kissed her and switched off the light before going up to bed with Julia. They made love and then Norma fell asleep.

  Julia crept out from under the covers and slipped from the room. She removed Norma’s police riding cape and hat from the Land Rover, closing the back as quietly as she could. She packed them into a case and left it in the hallway before returning upstairs. But she did not go back to bed immediately. Instead she inched open the door to her mother’s room: she had not moved from the center of the bed, seeming somehow trapped inside the tight sheet across her chest. She appeared to be asleep.