A Girl Like Lilac

by Victoria L. James

  “Idiots are going to get a real beating if they don’t shut their mouths.”

  I hit the bottom step, half-smiling and raising my brows.

  “I’m serious, Hunter.”

  “They aren’t worth it, Mase.”

  “If it means ultimate peace, I’ll suffer the fight.”

  “Solid advice from a stone-cold killer.”

  “At least I had the nerve to kill my enemy with intent, pussy boy.”

  I punched him on the shoulder and walked on by, aware he wasn’t far behind me. Growing boys didn’t mess around wasting time when breakfast was nearby.

  “Jesus Christ! Shut the fuck up, you set of pre-pubescent pricks!” Mason shouted at the top of his voice.

  The banging on the doors grew louder with more threats thrown around blindly in Mason’s direction.

  “Damn banged up baby monkeys,” he grumbled.

  “Stop rattling their cages then.” I glanced back over my shoulder and gave him a sarcastic look.

  “I can’t wait to get out of here and moved up into a proper joint.” Mason frowned, his swagger strong and over the top as he followed me.

  There was something dark and disturbing about him, but behind his mask of survival, he was just a kid desperate for someone dependable to cling to. Someone he could count on. Someone who could and would show him the way because, at seventeen, he was already tired of trying to figure life out for himself. Most of the kids in here were. They’d been let down by the people who brought them into this world and then let down by the system. I understood more than I cared to admit.

  I knew Mason saw something in me he wanted to follow. Was it the same kind of things Lilac had talked about in her letter? Was there hope for me down the line?

  I nodded to two of the prison wardens as they went charging past us, probably hoping to stop the impending fight before it even began.

  “You’ve been reading her letter again haven’t you?” Mason asked sharply.

  I ignored him, pushing through the door into the next corridor.

  “I can always tell when you have.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I made a point to sound bored.

  “Yep.” His pace quickened until we were walking side by side. “You always look like you’ve just gotten laid. I need to read that fucking letter, pal. I want Lilac to have the same effect on me.”

  “Over my dead body.” I looked at him sharply, not playing around.

  “Careful. Those are my specialities.”

  “Speciality. One temper tantrum doesn’t exactly make you Jack the Ripper.”

  “Ha. What if it was the only one I got convicted of?”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  “Yeah, and so are you, with your bullshit nothing and nobody scares me attitude. Pretend to look bored and cold and unaffected by everything all you want, Hunter. I know it’s just a game. You’re a soft heart trying to hide behind six-feet of broad shoulders, hooded eyes, and growing muscle, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to pretend otherwise. Especially not when you’ve been reading her letter. You’re pussy whipped, which means you’re weak. That’ll get you killed around these parts. She must be something special.”

  “She is,” I said through gritted teeth, a vision of her standing in front of me wearing a white sundress, her lips red and tempting, flashing before my eyes, making my stomach ache with want and longing.

  “What’s she doing with a douche like you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Wonder who she’ll be hooking up with while you’re locked up in here for eight years.”

  I ignored him, grinding my teeth together and focusing on controlling the small ball of fire that began to come to life in the pit of my stomach whenever someone mentioned Lilac in here. Her name didn’t belong in these walls. She was clean, and this place was dirty. I wasn’t about to let her become tainted.

  “What does she say in her letter? Come on, give a brother a secret or two. Does she tell you she touches herself? Make out like she’s sucking you off while you’re—”

  SLAM!

  My forearm pressed against his throat, and I used all the venom in my blood and muscles in my body to push him up until his feet were barely touching the floor. Every vein in my neck and head bulged as the anger took over, my eyes wide open as I stared at his surprised, blinking ones.

  “Shut your fucking mouth about her, you hear me?”

  “Shit… Hunter. I was… joking…” he croaked, reaching up to grip my arm and try to free himself.

  I pulled back for just a second before I slammed him back in place. “And I told you a hundred times already, friend or no friend, consequences be damned, you don’t speak her name in here. Ever. She doesn’t belong in this place. Her name won’t even be whispered inside these walls.”

  “Okay, okay…” he gasped, a sick burst of broken laughter pouring free.

  “It is not okay.”

  “I get it. Dude, I’m sorry.”

  We stared at each other in silence before I finally relented, moving away all at once and letting his feet fall to the floor. He bent over, gasping for air.

  “You really are fucking crazy,” he said through panted breaths, his hands falling to his knees.

  When Mason looked up, his short, dark hair somehow ruffled, even though I hadn’t touched it, his brown, bloodshot eyes stared straight into mine.

  “You better hope none of the others ever find out what she means to you. They’ll use her against you at every fucking turn, and you’ll snap, just like that. Then you’ll never get out of here, Hunter. And they’ll make damn sure of it.”

  “I won’t snap.”

  “You just did. Lock her away quickly. Otherwise, you’ve already lost.”

  Lilac,

  One day, when we’re old and grey, tired and worn out, and you’re complaining about me holding you back or yelling some vulgar insults my way that you don’t really mean, I’ll remind you of the day I told you I was no good for you. I’ll pull out the letter I sent giving you permission to let me go. I’ll highlight the words I put to paper, reminding you that I wanted you to live a better life than I could offer. We’ll argue through the tears and the rants and the insults we don’t mean, and then I’ll probably kiss you and thank you for being so stubborn and refusing to give up on me all those years ago.

  This letter is the last one I’ll be sending. It has to be because if I think about you too much, I begin to cave. I just needed to tell you that I think you’re one hell of a woman, that I love you, and then I need to ask you to let me go for a little while because reminders of you make it harder to get by. I need to be someone different in here. Someone hoping to survive, not thrive. A letter from you makes me too happy for prison, and if they see someone looking good in here, they’ll try and tear them down.

  I read the poem you sent, and I loved it. Write them over and over in a journal or something for me, and we’ll read them together when I get out of here. Anything that inspires you. Songs. Stories. Messages of frustration. Whatever you feel. When I’m out, we’ll spend a whole weekend in bed, naked, reading it all together between the kisses I press against every inch of your skin. I’ll write my thoughts, too. We can share the years we missed.

  But you can’t send me anything else in here, Lil. I can’t take it.

  If that makes you change your mind about waiting, I’ll understand. I’ll be happy for you.

  If you don’t, I’ll see you then, with a smile on my face and my heart beating fast.

  I dream about that moment every night.

  Toby.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Lilac

  TWO YEARS LATER

  The sun was shining over the beach, casting it’s dying, golden colours against the surface of the ocean, highlighting the grains of sand, even from where I was standing way above, at the top of Gun Hill. It was my favourite time of day in the summer. The oranges, pinks, and reds of the day would soon give way the greys, blues, and blacks of the nig
ht, yet the heat lingered on the coast, mixing with a gentle breeze that stopped us from becoming too sticky and uncomfortable.

  Southwold was a beautiful place to live, even with the myriad of memories I had of it.

  I closed my eyes and leaned against one of the six eighteen-pound cannons that proudly sat overlooking the coast to commemorate the Battle of Sole Bay—another reminder that just because something was beautiful, it didn’t mean it hadn’t tasted blood and disaster before. Our beach had suffered over the years, seeing plenty of death and destruction, yet it stood bold and beautiful. The cannons, our reminder that just because the weeks wore on, it didn’t mean you had to forget the tragedies we’d survived day by day.

  Pressing my full body weight against the cannon I was standing beside, I dropped my cheek to the raised head of it, bathing in the summer breeze that washed over me.

  Peace took control.

  The sound of the waves, the laughter of the crowds in the pub far behind, the chirp of the seagulls overhead all cocooned me into a moment’s silence.

  I found peace a hard thing to find. Contentment, complacency, relaxation all seemed easier, but peace—true peace—was often fleeting. But my intakes of breath were slow and steady, and for just one moment, I was floating on nothing more than being alive.

  Breathing.

  Just… being.

  “Now there’s a face of beauty.”

  I smiled before I opened my eyes to see Duke standing in front of me wearing his usual cheeky grin.

  “Aren’t they something?” I replied, pushing myself off the cannon and turning to stroke my hand across the black paint.

  “I was talking about that wistful smile on your face.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised, Duke. I still smile.”

  He raised a brow and tipped his chin to his chest, looking up at me through questioning eyes.

  “I smile more than I should, given the circumstances” I added, winking before I walked over to give him a gentle kiss on both cheeks.

  “Any word from the boy?”

  “Not in two years, six months and—”

  “Twenty-two days.”

  “No news is good news, right?”

  “I’m just mad he hasn’t once asked if I’ve kicked the bucket or not yet.”

  I slapped his shoulder gently and shook my head. “Stop it. You’re in your prime.”

  “You shouldn’t lie to old men.”

  “Never have, never will.” I beamed.

  “Want me to walk you to work?” Duke held his bent arm out for me to take, and take it I did. Gladly. He made me feel one step closer to Toby, even though that was ridiculous. We were both miles apart from him, but we carried on regardless. Clinging onto the crook of Duke’s elbow with both hands, he and I began to make the slow walk down the pathway to The Sole Bay Inn.

  I’d taken Toby’s job the second I decided to put up a fight, and Caleb, my new boss, seemed eager enough to have me.

  “Whatever I can do to help the kid, I’ll do,” he told me, letting his eyes say all the unspoken thoughts he couldn’t say aloud.

  “That means a lot to me. To us, actually.”

  “When can you start?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Works for me.” He reached out, and we shook hands, and then I turned to leave. “Lilac?” he called out.

  I glanced back over my shoulder and gifted him with a bright, white smile. “Yes, boss?”

  Caleb dropped his elbows to the bar. “You sure you’re ready to handle life in the public eye? A lot of questions are being asked around here at the minute. Everyone is still sore from the loss of that boy.”

  “I’m ready. They all need to know the truth. Who better to give it to them than me? You needn’t worry.”

  He narrowed his eyes and set his smile free. “For some reason, I don’t. See you at seven.”

  He’d been right about the questions. At first, there’d just been glares and silent accusations, but they began to vocalise their feelings towards Toby once they’d had a few drinks flowing through their bloodstream.

  “What are you doing pining after that weird young boy? I always knew he was strange.”

  “Did he really do it? Were you there?”

  “Why would he plead guilty if he was innocent?”

  “How dare you show your face around here when Chris’ family are in ruins?”

  “Something just doesn’t add up to me.”

  “Hey, has anyone around here seen Officer Atkins lately? He’s nowhere to be seen.”

  I answered all their questions the only way I knew how: honestly and openly, never once raising my voice when they called me a liar or accused me of being blind to Toby’s true temperament. We’d tried to walk away and acted in self-defence. Toby had pleaded guilty to save me because he loved me. And if they wanted to know where Marty had fled to, they could join the club, because so did I… and I had a hell of a lot of questions to ask the bastard. Their faces were often filled with quiet shock when they stared into my eyes, unable to believe I was implying unsavoury things about their precious Martin Atkins, trying to seek out a lie that wasn’t there. That’s the thing about society. They are judge, jury, and executioner, and they feel no guilt for being all of those things without even knowing the person they’re putting on trial. Because they knew one small fact about Toby, or they saw him walking down the beach with bruises on his face once before, they had him all figured out.

  But I didn’t waver. I held strong. I’d been doing it for over two years now, and I had no desire to quit.

  “You ever think about just leaving this place?” I asked Duke as we drew closer to the pub.

  “Me?” He shook his head firmly. “Never. Southwold is my home. Always will be. It’s the most beautiful place on the planet.” He tilted his face to glance at me from the corners of his eyes. “You think about leaving?”

  “All the time.”

  “Can’t say I blame you. You’ve had it rough these last few years.”

  “Not as rough as Toby.”

  “That doesn’t mean you haven’t had it rough.”

  “I know,” I said with a soft sigh.

  “You think you’ll ever leave?”

  We came to a standstill and turned to face one another. Glancing over Duke’s shoulder, I looked out across the ocean I adored so much. Not even death could make me hate it. Then I glanced left to the pier before glancing right at the curve of the beach that taunted me with an opportunity for escape. The breeze rustled my long red hair, forcing me to push a strand back that was trying to tickle my face and interrupt my view.

  “Yeah, I’ll leave… one day,” I whispered, looking back into Duke’s knowing eyes.

  “Not yet?”

  “Not yet.” I grinned back.

  “Let’s get you to work.”

  As we drew up by Sole Bay, I noticed a pile of empty pint glasses on the tables outside. It was to be expected. A sunny day in the height of summer and bar staff like me had their work cut out. I loved the work and the chaos of it all. It made the days and nights pass by quicker, and I was putting as many hours in as I could these days to try and save and save and save.

  “Looks like we just missed the party,” Duke grumbled.

  I released myself from him and walked over to the empty table to clear the mess away. “There’ll be another one any second, Duke. You go inside and get your seat before the next lot come in and take your place. I might as well grab these while I’m out here.”

  Duke tipped his hat, gave me a small bow and walked inside to his favourite place to drink his favourite drink. I had a stack of eight glasses piled high in one hand—a juggling skill I’d mastered since working here—and was clearing up the empty packets of crisps and peanuts when I heard the small, rough cough behind me. I thought it was just another customer, so I smiled and looked up before looking away, only to quickly freeze and do a double take the minute I saw I was alone with Joel Atkins.

  Joel.

 
; I’d not seen him up close in over two years, having made it my life’s mission to convince the whole of Southwold he was the biggest criminal around here, not my Toby. I hadn’t been cornered or threatened with anything since Toby went away, but I’d made damn sure everyone knew what Joel was capable of. Cheryl had helped me with that along the way, too, although she was so busy living life at Nottingham University now, her impact on the whole plan wasn’t as powerful as it had been in the start. Together, the two of us had destroyed Joel’s public image in a matter of months.

  We’d spoken about his threats.

  We’d spoken about his roaming hands.

  We’d spoken about his involvement the night of Chris’s tragic death.

  That was the power we had that Joel didn’t. People trusted me, trusted Cheryl. They’d seen sides of Joel before, him acting like a spoilt brat and demanding instant attention, so it was easy for them to see he could be something other than he was pretending to be. I stopped pleading Toby’s innocence and started crying about Joel’s guilt.

  And here he was, standing in front of me again, and we were alone.

  I realised I’d been staring at him too long when his expression changed, sending a small chill up my spine.

  My feet moved without warning, stepping back until my knees hit the edge of the bench attached to the table.

  Joel’s hand shot up immediately. “Hey, don’t. Don’t do that.”

  “You get the hell away from me,” I growled, not recognising the feral sound of my voice.

  “Lilac.”

  “Get out of here, or I swear to God, I’ll scream.”

  Joel closed his eyes, and I watched as his whole body sagged. His shoulders fell heavy, as did his chin to his chest, and his arms hung limply by his side.

  I swallowed the hard lump in my throat. With hands too full to hit him and feet too shaken and clumsy to move, all I could do was stare.

  He looked hideous. The growth around his face was unkempt and uneven, hiding angry red spots and scabs dotted around his skin. His hair was a mess, longer than I’d ever seen it, tucked behind his ears looking like he hadn’t washed it in weeks. When he eventually looked up again, his eyes were bloodshot and tired. So tired, it almost made me want to yawn in sympathy, but I had no sympathy for him. None. Hate wasn’t an emotion I’d been taught to feel, but I felt it anyway. I let it dim my rainbow and weaken me at times, especially when the thing I hated was standing right in front of me.