by Jessie Keane
Back then, Leo had seemed so grown-up, so exotic. He was a bad boy and–like Nick–exuded a potent, violent charisma. There was Greek way back in Leo’s family somewhere, and that came out in his dark, bulky good looks. Leo was charming and brutal in equal measures, always with cash to spare and attitude by the bucketful, and Lily’s strictly boring, law-abiding parents–her dad a postman, her mother a cleaner–had clamped down on the budding relationship almost immediately.
But not soon enough.
Decimated by Nick’s rejection of her, Lily had sought solace in the arms of Leo. And Leo had wasted no time in popping Lily’s cherry and giving her a little something to remember him by. After that, Leo–being young and stupid, just as Lily was even younger and even stupider–had proposed. Lily’s parents had softened towards him after that. There had been a white wedding–well, ivory, anyway. Lily had forfeited the right to wear white on the day she let Leo King deflower her in the back of his hot-rod car, as her sour-faced mother never tired of reminding her.
Nine months later, after twenty-four hours of agonizing labour, a little bundle of joy arrived and was christened Sarah. Three years after that, by which time Leo was making a big name for himself in criminal circles and they were living the life of Riley, another daughter turned up. Olivia. Oli.
Lily half smiled as she thought of her two precious girls. Yeah, there were downsides–being married to the-ego-has-landed Leo King was one, who by the way farted like a fibre-fuelled wart hog in bed, emitting smells that could almost lead a person to think that a rat had crawled up his hairy great arse and died there–but hey, here was an upside.
A huge upside.
Her two lovely girls. Sarah–or Saz as she was known to everyone–getting very grown up at just nine years old, and Oli who was just six. Saz was a stately little girl, prettily blonde and dainty, very much daddy’s princess. Oli was the tomboy, the wild one, dark-haired like her dad and always faintly dishevelled. Lily adored them both, and so did Leo. He’d do anything for his girls.
Yeah–anything except give up chasing skirt, she thought.
Lily parked the car, turned off the engine and got out. The sensor came on above the front porch, further illuminating the drive where she stood in cold, bluish light.
Ain’t it funny? she thought. Crooks always expect other people to be crooked too.
There were lights blazing out from the upstairs windows, a few left on downstairs too.
‘Hey Leo!’ she called out when she stepped into the hall.
No answer.
Fallen asleep again with the telly on, thought Lily irritably.
He’d be laid out on the bed in his underpants, mouth open, snoring: not a pretty sight. She sighed and dumped her case on the hall floor. She put her handbag on the consul table under the big Venetian mirror. Her reflection stared back at her. It gave her a bit of a turn, looking at herself caught unawares. She saw not the happy girl she’d once been, but a woman weighed down by troubles. Yes, she was blonde and she looked good. Slender, dressed in designer clothes and wearing foot-fetish shoes, buffed to bronze with fake tan, sporting long acrylic nails and a lot of expensive make-up. But her face said it all. An unhappy woman stood there, her mouth turned down and her eyes, brown with tigerish flecks of gold, lacking any spark of life.
Lily looked behind her reflection at the vast hall, at the chandelier she’d sourced so carefully, the cream marble on the floor, the watered silk Dupioni drapes that had cost a bloody fortune, and she thought: Hey, guess what? It’s true. Money doesn’t buy you happiness.
Lily moved away from the mirror, not liking what she saw. She felt a huge sense of emptiness eating at her guts, a sense of complete futility. Tonight she didn’t even have the comfort of Saz and Oli to relieve it. They were staying over nearby at Si and Maeve’s for the week. If Lily was away, then that was just the way it had to be–Leo King didn’t babysit kids, even if the kids were his own. That was women’s work, not men’s.
‘Leo!’ she called again. She couldn’t hear the telly going in their huge lounge, or up there in the master suite. Maybe he was in the games room. He wouldn’t be in the heated indoor pool: Leo was a morning swimmer.
No, it was late. He would be upstairs, asleep. Nice and peaceful, the bastard. Lily gritted her teeth and thought again about the things she’d found over the last few months. The receipts for jewellery. A gold bracelet from Tiffany, a Patek Philippe ladies’ watch that she had never received. Expensive bouquets of flowers that she’d never seen hide nor hair of. And a bill from a classy restaurant–not the sort of place he’d take his hoodlum mates to.
She’d phoned the number on the bill, saying she’d been there with Leo King on that date, and she thought she’d left her scarf behind. Had it been handed in? They told her no, but it was the manager’s day off, they’d check with him tomorrow–and she’d be coming in as usual with Mr King, wouldn’t she, next week? If the scarf was found, they’d put it aside for her.
‘Thanks,’ said Lily. She’d hung up and checked the calendar. Leo had last been to the restaurant on Wednesday lunchtime.
The following Wednesday, she drove there and sat outside in her car and waited. And there he was, walking into the restaurant–with Adrienne Thomson, wife of the company accountant.
Leo was taking the mickey, making her look a bloody fool. And now she’d had enough. Now the games were going to stop. She was going to lay it out for him, spell it out plain: either he stopped, or she was walking away, and she was taking the girls with her and he was going to pay, pay and pay again for making her look like such a total schmuck.
Grimly, Lily started up the stairs.
All right, marriage to Leo had for her always been a compromise. But she had worked at it, made a life, a family, a home. But this was the final straw for her.
Lily had never been the confrontational type. She had always felt she’d struck lucky, marrying a bloke who could keep her in style. She lived well. Lunches with the girls. Spa breaks. Holidays in Marbella and Barbados. The works.
She’d grown up poor, with parents who’d been forced to penny-pinch to get by. She knew it had scarred her. This life–her life–was so different. Her mum could never quite believe it when she called–and being Mum she was always quick with the snide remarks, the ‘getting above yourself’ lectures, all that sour inverted-snobbery stuff. What did she want, the miserable bitch? That her daughter should have to scrape along through life, cleaning other people’s lavvies like her?
‘Pride comes before a fall,’ Mum would sniff, glaring disdainfully about at her daughter’s opulent lifestyle. ‘Salt of the earth, the working class, don’t you forget that, my girl.’
Lily ignored her. She knew that she, Lily, had never changed, that she never had and never would put on airs and graces. She was still herself, still true to her roots–she was still quiet, awestruck Lily Granger, who had been painfully dumped by Nick O’Rourke and then been amazed that his pal Leo King fancied her and not any of the other, more exuberant girls in her circle. She was the same Lily Granger who had become Lily King, the biddable, reserved and faithful wife of Leo King.
Biddable.
Lily’s lip curled in bitterness as she thought of what a prize idiot Leo had taken her for. Yeah, she might live in luxury, but she’d been made to look a twat. She was sure his mates and his business ‘colleagues’ would know what he was up to, would pat him on the back and think him a big man for cheating on his wife with poor Matt Thomson’s old lady.
‘You dog,’ they’d say admiringly.
And if the boys knew, then her friends knew too.
Leo was a major Essex ‘face’, and he and his boys were behind many a heist. Leo, his brothers and Nick O’Rourke led a cadre of suited-and-booted villains, all deeply dangerous and mired in running ‘front’ companies. Lily didn’t know much about their business, and she didn’t want to. The money poured in; that had to be enough. So she’d put the blinkers on, kept her head down and ignored the rest.<
br />
There was always a price to pay in this life. She had come to know that over the years, shedding her girlish innocence as she got to know the man she’d married. There was a price to pay–and that price was her dignity. And just lately that price seemed too fucking high, by about a mile.
She was outside the closed bedroom door now, and her heart was beating hard with the tension of it. Because he would kick off. She knew that. Leo had never once hit her–he never would–but his temper was formidable, his rages seemed to fill up the space all around him, to suck all the oxygen out of a room. She didn’t ever like to upset him, but now she’d been pushed too far.
Yeah, the worm’s finally doing a U-turn, she thought.
‘Leo!’ she called again, wanting to wake him quickly, wanting more than anything to get this over and done with.
He’d deny it. She knew damned well that he’d deny it. But there were things she knew for sure now; there was proof, and she had right on her side.
‘Leo, will you wake up? I want a word,’ she said, nerves making her voice harsh and demanding as she swung the door wide open, crashing it back against the wall in her haste to get in there and get the damned thing said.
And then she saw the blood–splatters and loops and obscene thick skeins of blood–and the body with its head shot clean away. She stopped dead in the doorway, all the strength draining from her limbs in an instant, her lips mouthing words that would not come.
Her long nightmare had begun.
3
2009
Lily King was out. She was standing at the gates of Askham Grange nick, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, a grey hoodie and white trainers, clutching a black bin bag full of her worldly possessions.
The first thing she knew of her friend Becks’s arrival was the horn of the car. It blared out a merry eight-tone tune as Becks whipped round the corner in it. The second thing that announced Becks’s arrival was the colour of the car. The daft bint had a pink open-topped car. Lily cringed a bit as Becks tore along the road, waving madly, her white-blonde hair whipping out behind her in the warm June wind. So much for hopes of a quiet departure. Becks never did a damned thing quietly. Lily should have known that.
‘Lils, Lils! Hiya Lils!’ she was hollering even before she brought the car to a screeching halt.
Becks was her best mate. Only Becks had visited her inside while she’d been down south in Holloway. And Becks was the only person who’d offered to drive all the way up to Yorkshire to pick her up now she was no longer to be detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure. She’d offered her temporary accommodation too, to keep the probation officer sweet.
Becks is a very kind girl, thought Lily as the pink monstrosity barrelled to a halt right in front of her. Barking, sure. Mad as a hatter. But kind.
‘Lils babe, jump in!’ Becks was trilling over the loud thump and grind of the Foo Fighters. She grabbed the black bin bag and lobbed it onto the back seat. ‘Jesus, it’s so good to see you.’
Lily was clutched around the neck in a tight hug. Becks’s jaws were working, chewing gum as always, and the scent of Wrigley’s surrounded Lily in a haze of sweetness. She smiled into Becks’s perfumed hair and then she looked up and stiffened.
A bull-barred 4x4 that had been parked across the street was slowly pulling out. As it drew level with Becks’s car, the darkly tinted electronic window slid smoothly down. A bulky man was behind the steering wheel, a man with a shaven head, snub nose, cleft chin and piggy dark blue eyes.
Oh shit, thought Lily.
Freddy King, Leo’s psycho youngest brother was sitting there in the driving seat staring right at her.
Becks felt her grow rigid and she drew back. Looked at Lily’s eyes. Saw where they were directed. Becks looked around, following Lily’s gaze, and saw Freddy there.
‘Fucking hell,’ Becks muttered under her breath.
Both women froze, wondering what the hell he was doing here, what the hell he was intending to do. Lily’s heart was threatening to bust its way straight out through her ribs. Suddenly she wished she was back inside. She’d felt safer inside.
Now she was out…and here was Freddy.
Freddy started to grin. Lily felt her stomach tighten with fear. Freddy had a grin like a crocodile. It wasn’t intended to convey warmth, only threat. He lifted his hand and pointed a finger at her, mimicking the pointing of a gun.
Lily gulped.
He was mouthing something now. Lily stared at his face, a face she had last seen twelve years ago whooping and hollering in triumph across a crowded courtroom. Big heavy features, pitted skin the result of childhood acne, black eyebrows that met in the middle. Freddy had never been the brains of the King outfit–and by God it showed–but he was certainly the brawn. He exuded an air of casual menace. Lily looked at that sneering mouth and tried to make out the words.
When she did, it gave her no comfort at all.
You won’t see it coming, but trust me–it is.
And then he gunned the engine, and was gone, roaring off along the road.
‘Creep,’ said Becks with a shudder.
Lily felt as though someone had just stepped heavily on her grave. Leo’s two brothers hated her, and they had reason. She just hadn’t expected they’d make their intentions clear quite so soon. Her mouth felt dry and it was as if a cloud had passed over the sun.
She looked along the road. The 4x4 was gone, but the feeling of menace lingered. She took a breath, opened the car door, and slid into the passenger seat of Becks’s ludicrous pink motor.
‘Blonde joke,’ said Lily. ‘What’s the first thing a dumb blonde does in the morning?’
Becks looked at her doubtfully.
‘She introduces herself,’ said Lily.
Becks raised a thin smile.
‘And what’s the second thing a dumb blonde does in the morning?’ Lily asked.
Becks shook her head.
‘She goes home.’ And where the hell is home, now? she wondered.
Becks smiled obligingly, but her heart wasn’t in it. ‘You think he knew the day you were getting out, and followed me all the way up here?’
Lily didn’t answer, but yes–she thought Freddy had done exactly that. For the sole purpose and pleasure of scaring the shit out of her.
‘He was saying something, wasn’t he?’ Becks was frowning now. ‘I couldn’t tell what it was. Did you see what he was saying, Lils?’
You won’t see it coming–but trust me, it is.
‘Nah,’ said Lily. ‘Couldn’t make out a word.’
She looked at the prison. Twelve years out of her life. Twelve years. But the nightmare had started before that, on the night she came home to accuse her husband of having an affair.
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?’
