She's Out (4 page)

She stared at him, then leaned forward and touched his blond hair, same texture, same colour as Shirley’s. ‘I’ll make a deal with you, love. If you make that bitch pay for what
she done to my baby, you get her locked up—’

‘Mum, she
is
away, she’s in the nick right now.’

Audrey prodded his hand with her finger. ‘But one day she’ll be
out
, and I keep a calendar. She’ll be out, rich and free. I don’t care about the money, all I want
is . . . ’

Audrey never said the word revenge but it was blatantly obvious, and Mike made a promise. It sounded hollow to him but he had no option. He promised that when Dolly Rawlins came out of Holloway,
he would get her back for her part in the diamond robbery. Five years later, the promise was to haunt him, because his mother never forgot it. She called him and asked him to come round. As if
unconcerned, she suddenly suggested he look in the left-hand drawer of the side table. Audrey was tut-tutting over some character’s downfall on the TV. Every single newspaper article about
the diamond robbery was stacked in the drawer. Calendars, one year, two years, three years, scrawled in thick red-tipped pen. He eased aside the news-clippings and there was an old black and white
photograph, taken at some West End nightclub. He had never seen Dolly Rawlins, wouldn’t know her if he was to come face to face with her in the street, but he knew which one she was: she had
to be the blonde, hard-faced woman sitting at the centre of the large round table. She had a champagne glass in her hand, a half-smile on her face, but there was something about her eyes:
unsmiling, hard, cold eyes . . . The handsome man seated next to her had almost an angry expression, as if annoyed by the intrusion of the photographer. Mike recognized his brother-in-law, dead
before Shirley. Terry Miller always looked like he never had a care in the world: his wide smile was relaxed and he exuded an open sexuality, unafraid of any photo, one arm resting along the
cushioned booth seat as if protecting or guarding his pretty, innocent, child-like wife. Shirley Miller.

The TV was turned off and Audrey turned to Mike. ‘You read them, have you?’ She pointed to the black and white picture of Dorothy Rawlins. She was crying, clutching a sodden tissue
in her hand. ‘You never seen her, have you, love?’

The big headlines screamed out her name and beneath her picture was a smaller one of her husband: ‘Gangland Boss Murdered by his Wife’. Harry Rawlins had been a notorious criminal: a
handsome, elegant, cruel-faced man, yet his picture made him look like a movie star. In comparison, the hard gaze of his wife made them appear an incompatible couple but they had been married
twenty years. Harry Rawlins was one of the biggest gangsters in London, a man who had never been caught, never spent a day behind bars, and yet had been questioned by the police so many times his
name was known by most of the Met officers. He had always been too clever to get arrested. He had lived a charmed life until his wife shot him. The newspaper article stated that Dorothy Rawlins had
killed her husband when she had discovered his betrayal, that he had a mistress and a child. There was no mention that he had instigated a robbery where Shirley Miller’s husband had been
burned to death, and the news coverage only talked about the shooting. They had nicknamed Dolly the ‘Black Widow’ because throughout her trial she had always been dressed in black.

Audrey prodded Dolly’s face in the paper. ‘Eight years. Eight years. Well, she’s out, any day now,’ she said, wiping her eyes.

What Audrey had never told Mike about that last visit from Dolly was that she had been pregnant and had lost the baby she was expecting. She blamed that on Dolly Rawlins as well, and she could
see her, as clearly as if it were yesterday. Audrey even remembered the coat – stylish. Funny, she could recall the coat but little of what was said apart from the promise. Dolly had not sat
down but stood in the small hallway, her head slightly bowed, her voice a low whisper. ‘I’m sorry about Shirley. I am deeply sorry for Shirley.’

Audrey had been unable to reply, she was in such a state.

‘Nothing will make up to you for her loss, I know that.’

Still Audrey had been unable to reply. Then Dolly had lifted her head, her pale washed-out eyes brimming with tears. ‘You’ll get a cut of the diamonds, that I promise you. Just hand
them over to Jimmy Donaldson. Jimmy’ll keep them safe. When this is all over, I’ll see you’re taken care of, Audrey.’

Then it went blank. Audrey couldn’t recall anything else they had said or not said but Dolly had eventually walked out. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose loudly. Mike looked over the
cuttings and she wondered if she should tell him but she was scared. Everything had changed after she had read in the paper that a small-time fence called Jimmy Donaldson had been arrested for
dealing in stolen property. Audrey had then done something she would have believed herself incapable of. She had done it all by herself and, having done it, she had been terrified. But the weeks
passed and gradually she grew more and more confident that what she had done was right. She deserved it. But now she was scared, really scared, because Dolly Rawlins was coming out and she
didn’t know if she should tell Mike or not. But she knew one thing: Dolly would come out looking for her, she was sure of that.

Mike was feeling depressed and uneasy. It was back again, that constant undercurrent of guilt whenever he was with his mother. He had made that promise, but what could he do? He held on to his
temper. ‘Mum, there is nothing I can do—’

‘You’re a ruddy police officer, aren’t you? Re-arrest her. She did that robbery, Mike – I know it, you know it. She as good as killed our Shirley, never mind her bloody
husband.’

The tears started again. He was due at his station in half an hour; he wished he’d never called in. ‘Look, Mum, the main problem will be if it implicates you – and it
could.’

Audrey clung to him. ‘I’ve got an offer. Friend’s got a villa in Spain, I can stay as long as I like. That way I can’t be involved.’

‘Look, I’ll see what I can do but I can’t promise anything.’

Audrey kissed him. ‘Let her sleep in peace, let my little girl sleep in peace.’

Mike sighed and turned on the ignition of the car but the last thing he felt like doing was going into the station. He checked his watch again and then drove to Thornton Avenue in Chiswick. He
knew that he was making a mistake, that this was a stupid move, but he needed to get his head straightened out. He parked the car and walked up the scruffy path. He was about to ring the front
doorbell when he heard someone calling his name.

Angela was running up the road, waving. Her face was brimming with a big wide smile. ‘Mike, Mike . . .’

Mike turned as she threw herself into his arms. He held her tightly as she kissed his neck.

‘I knew you’d come and see me again, I just knew it.’

He walked hand in hand with her to his car, already wanting to kick himself for coming to her place.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she said, hanging on to his arm.

Mike released his hand. ‘Look, I shouldn’t have come, Angela. It was just . . . I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, please stay, please. Me mum’s down at the centre, there’s no one in the house, and, please, I got something to tell you, please . . .’

Mike locked the car and followed Angela into her mother’s ground-floor flat. It was dark and scruffy and kids’ pushchairs and toys littered every inch of the floor. Angela guided him
towards the small back bedroom, and all the time he kept on saying to himself that he was dumb, he was stupid to start this up again. Angela began to undress as soon as she shut the door but he
shook his head. ‘No, I can’t stay, Angela, I’m on duty in an hour. I just . . .’

She slumped on to the bed. ‘I been waitin’ for you to call for weeks. You know the way I feel about you. Why did you come here, then?’

He shook his head. He was feeling even worse. ‘I dunno, I was over at my mum’s place and she starts doing my head in over my sister, and I just . . .’ She wrapped her arms
around him, kissing his face. ‘No, don’t, Angela, I shouldn’t have come.’

She broke away. ‘Well, get out, I don’t care, I’m goin’ away anyway.’

‘Where you goin’?’

‘Friend’s place, just a few days, bit of work.’

Mike looked at her, shaking his head. ‘What kind of work?’

Angela plucked at her short skirt, her face puckered.

‘You’re not going back on the game, are you?’

‘
No, I am not
,’ she shrieked.

Mike sat on the bed and rested his head against the wall. He closed his eyes.

‘I was never on the game and you know it. You of all people should know it. I just worked as her maid, Mike, I swear I did.’

‘This Ester Freeman, is it?’ he asked.

Angela crawled on to the bed to sit next to him. Mike had been on the Vice Squad when Ester Freeman had been busted for running a brothel. Angela was one of the girls who had been arrested along
with twelve other women but they had all, including Ester, insisted that little Angela was not on the game, just serving drinks. Mike and Angela, who was then only fifteen, had begun an affair, a
stupid, on-off scene that he constantly tried to break. He never saw her regularly, once a month, sometimes twice, over the years, but he was very fond of her. He even gave her money sometimes but
he had no intention of ever leaving his wife. She had been a useful relaxation and he didn’t really believe she was in love. If it hadn’t been for Mike, she might have been sent to an
approved school, and whatever excuses he made regarding his friendship with Angela were just excuses. The sex was good and he simply refused to admit that that was what he used Angela for.

‘Ester called yesterday. I’m to go to her old manor house.’

‘Oh, yeah? She back running another brothel?’

‘No way. She’s holding some kind of party, for a woman called . . .’

Angela frowned as she tried to remember, and then grinned. ‘Oh, I dunno, but she was in Holloway wiv her, shot her old man, you know. She was famous. He was a big-time villain. Anyway,
she’s comin’ out of the nick and Ester is arranging a group of old friends to sort of welcome her, you know, give a party, and she wants me to act as a waitress.’

Mike fingered the knot in his tie. His mouth felt rancid. It couldn’t be – couldn’t be who he thought it was, could it? ‘Dolly Rawlins? Is that who it is?’

‘Yeah, she was in Holloway with Ester.’

Mike leaned against Angela, undoing the buttons of her shirt. ‘Who else is going?’

‘I dunno, but it’ll be some kind of scam, you can bet on it. I got to wear a black dress an’ apron. Ester never did nothin’ for nobody without there being something in it
for her. She’s a hard cow but I need the cash. Said she’ll pay me fifty quid.’

Mike eased back Angela’s shirt, slipping his finger under her lace bra. ‘She say anything else about Dolly Rawlins?’

Two young prisoners peeked into Dolly Rawlins’s cell, looking at the small neatly packed brown suitcase, a coat placed alongside it. Apart from these two items the cell
was empty.

Footsteps could be heard on the stone-flagged floor. The two girls scuttled back down the corridor as Rawlins, with a prison officer, headed towards her cell. Whatever they were expecting to
see, they were disappointed. The infamous Dolly Rawlins seemed pale and worn, like a schoolmistress. They didn’t get a look at her face, it was just her manner, the way she was walking, and
her short, grey hair. The officer hid the rest of her as she stood outside the cell waiting for prisoner 45688 to get her case and coat.

The corridors were strangely silent, with faint whispers. Nearly all of the women were waiting, hiding, whispering.

The Tannoy repeated a message that Rawlins, prisoner 45688, was to go to landing B. They all knew that was the check-out landing. She was almost out.

The coat was too large since she had lost so much weight but it was good quality: she had always liked the best. She did up each button slowly and then reached for her case. She refused to admit
to herself or show that she was sad: none of the girls had spoken to her or said goodbye. She looked to the officer and gave a brief nod. She was ready.

As Dolly headed towards landing B, the singing began, low at first, then rising to a bellow as every woman began to sing.

‘Goodbye, Dolly!’

They bellowed and stamped their feet, they called out her name and clapped their hands. ‘Goodbye, Dolly, you must leave us . . .’ They screeched out their thank yous for the
cigarettes, for her radio, her cassettes, for every item she had passed around. Some of the girls were sobbing, openly showing how much they would miss ‘Big Mama’. One old prisoner
shouted at the top of her voice, ‘Don’t turn back, Dolly, don’t look back, keep on walking out, gel . . .’

She could feel the tears welling up, her mouth trembling, but she held on, waving like the Queen as they walked on to the landings. They continued to sing, their voices echoing as she was
ushered along the corridor towards the Governor’s office. She was almost out. It wouldn’t be long now.

Mike thumbed through the files and then sat, drumming his fingers on the mug shot of Dorothy Rawlins. He had read so much on Dolly Rawlins and her husband that he knew that if
the diamonds existed she would go after them. He thought about Angela on her way to Ester Freeman. He wondered about a lot of things, trying to think if there was any possibility of doing something
for his sister, for his mother – if he could get Dolly Rawlins back inside.

Mike checked the files over and over again, then went through Harry Rawlins’s files. Then he received a phone call, nothing to do with Dolly Rawlins, nothing to do with his mother or his
sister. It was from Brixton Prison: a boy called Francis Lloyd wanted to give some information.

A lot of police officers have their private snitches in the prisons, someone wanting to do a bit of a trade. Lloyd was a youngster Mike had arrested on a burglary eighteen months ago. He had
been sentenced to two years because of a previous conviction. He was a likeable kid, and Mike had even got to know his mum and dad, so he returned the call – and for the second time in one
day he heard the name Dolly Rawlins. Francis had some information but he didn’t want to talk about it over the phone.