Most of the remand prisoners who’d been here when she was first brought in were gone, Frankie included, but almost daily new ones arrived. She’d hear them crying at night and feel for them, especially the young ones. So many of them were still children at eighteen, dragged through children’s homes, foster homes and ending up here emaciated from drug abuse. Many could barely read or write, they often had children themselves who had been taken from them, some were pregnant when they were brought in. That made Susan cry, but she couldn’t cry about her own crimes.
It seemed to her that remorse for what she’d done was unnecessary. So instead she tried to help those who needed it in here. Helping them write letters, listening to their anxieties, and preventing others from bullying them, that was useful. Remorse wasn’t going to bring anyone back from the dead, it didn’t change anything for anyone.
Susan walked over to the window and stood up on the toilet so she could see out through the bars. Her cell overlooked the exercise yard. There was a flower bed up the far end, bright with red and yellow tulips. She hoped she’d get to see all those petunias and busy lizzies she’d pricked out into trays in flower before she left here.
She wondered then if Beth had got into gardening. Mr Franklin had given her a note from Mr Smythe on his previous visit. He’d said Beth spent most of her spare time now with her policeman at his cottage. He thought they would get married before long.
‘I hope so, Beth,’ Susan whispered to herself. ‘Be happy. I am now.’
She wasn’t fooling herself either. It was true she’d often looked back to the point when her parents died and wished she’d thought then of applying for a job in a boarding school, or tried to get into nursing. She would have been good at either job. But then, if it hadn’t been for Liam she would never have had Annabel and all that joy of motherhood. Despite all the agony of losing her, those four years were still the golden ones, the best ones in her whole life.
Nothing could ever again give her the sheer bliss she’d experienced in those years, but she was contented now. There was nothing to strive for in here, no real anxiety. She found she liked the orderliness of prison and the feeling of security. Looking back, she could see it was insecurity and perhaps the lack of rigid structure to her life that unhinged her slightly when her parents died. Clinging to Liam, hating Martin all added to it.
Maybe she would find a new prison tougher than this one, but she knew the ropes now and she could, by appealing to the right people, get herself moved to an easier one. Nothing was ever going to be as bad again as living in that cold, damp room in Belle Vue.
The cherry tree Beth had climbed in Roy’s cottage garden was in full blossom in May. On a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon, Beth and Roy were sunbathing on a blanket on the lawn, discussing their wedding.
Roy had stripped off to a pair of shorts, and had tried to persuade Beth to take off her dress and put on her bikini, but she wouldn’t because she was embarrassed at how lily-white her body was. She had however made up her mind to start going to a solarium in her lunch-hours, if only to reach the pale biscuit colour Roy was.
‘We can’t have a white wedding, it would be ridiculous,’ Beth protested.
‘Why?’ Roy argued. ‘Because of our ages, or because you don’t think we’re entitled to one?’
Since that night back in February when Beth had climbed the tree to wake him they had spent every moment of their spare time together. Roy’s cottage had gradually become Beth’s first home, she only stayed in her flat occasionally if she worked late at the office. Even when Roy worked nights or was called away for a couple of days, she preferred the tranquillity of the cottage. Looking out over fields might not be as spectacular as the view of Bristol from her flat, but to her it was far more appealing. They had been talking about getting married for some weeks now, and Beth was every bit as keen as Roy.
‘I don’t know exactly why I think it’s ridiculous,’ she admitted, looking up at the umbrella of pink blossom above them. ‘Too much fuss, I suppose.’
‘It doesn’t have to be a big affair,’ he said. ‘We could have it at the church here, just your family, those of mine who can be trusted to behave, and a few friends.’
Beth laughed. Roy was always a little anxious about his family, but Beth liked his sisters. Perhaps they were a bit rough and ready, but they had good hearts. She knew Serena and Robert would like them too, for snobbishness was one thing none of them had inherited from their father.
She had taken Roy to meet her family back in March, and she still glowed at the memory of that wonderful weekend. Serena and Robert had welcomed him with open arms, and he’d been equally bowled over by them. To see Serena smiling fondly as Roy played football with Robert’s boys, her two nieces asking breathlessly if they could be bridesmaids, was almost enough on its own. And suddenly Beth didn’t feel she was the outsider looking in longingly at a happy family, it was as though she belonged to it.
‘Go on, say yes,’ Roy said, leaning over and kissing her. ‘I want to be up at that altar and turning to see you coming up the aisle in a white dress and veil, your nieces holding your train. It’s like a public declaration of how much I love you.’
Tears prickled Beth’s eyes. Roy could be so soppy and romantic sometimes. She loved it, for it was all new to her, yet sometimes she felt she didn’t really deserve it.
‘What if the vicar won’t marry us?’ she asked. ‘You’ve been divorced, remember!’
‘She left me,’ Roy reminded her. ‘Besides, I’ve already asked the vicar, he’s all for it.’
‘Oh, have you now?’ Beth playfully rolled him over and sat astride him. ‘Going behind my back already! What else have you done in secret?’
‘Tentatively arranged it for the first Saturday in August,’ he admitted, pretending to look anxious. ‘I said I’d ring him to confirm it tonight, if you were agreeable.’
‘And what if I’m not?’ she asked, pulling at his ears.
‘Then I’ll have to torture you till you do agree,’ he said. ‘I shall take you upstairs, handcuff you to the bed and roger you again and again until you submit.’
‘Roger me!’ she exclaimed. ‘What sort of an expression is that?’
He didn’t reply but caught hold of her round the middle and lifted her bodily off him in the same way he played aeroplanes with her nieces.
‘Put me down,’ she giggled, as she wavered in the air above him. ‘I’m too big for this.’
‘Maybe I won’t roger you then, I’ll just hold you here all afternoon instead,’ he laughed. ‘It will start to hurt in a minute.’
‘It already is,’ she squealed. ‘I’ll take the rogering instead.’
He dropped her to the grass and bent over her to kiss her again. ‘I love you, Beth. Let’s do it all properly. It is for ever and ever, after all,’ he said tenderly.
Beth got up a few minutes later and went into the cottage to get them both a drink. As she walked into the living room she stopped to look around her, reminding herself that once they were married this would really be her home.
Before she’d seen Roy’s home, he had led her to believe that it was still something of a derelict hovel. Yet nothing could be farther from the truth. He had knocked several small rooms into a huge ‘L’-shaped one so there were windows all round, and the ceiling was supported with beams. The part of the room nearest the front door and hall was the sitting end, the back part was the dining area, leading on to the kitchen. All the floors had been sanded smooth and varnished.
When Beth had first come here there was little furniture, just the white settee he’d told her about, a television and an old table. She had picked the material for the curtains herself, lovely heavy off-white wool with crewel embroidery in scarlet and soft greens.
Since then, they’d bought a big Indian rug which was remarkably like the curtains, a dining table and chairs, and the beech kitchen had been finished. Beth was intending to sell her flat and most of her furniture, for it was all too modern to br
ing here. But her paintings would fit in. That struck her as very significant, for they were the only things she really cared about, and Roy liked them as much as she did.
Sometimes she felt she ought to pinch herself to check this wasn’t all a dream. She had found the kind of love she thought only existed in soppy romances, discovered she was far from frigid, and released the young girl who had been frozen deep inside her.
That was really the best part. It was wonderful to be spontaneous, to view each day ahead with optimism, to take an interest in other people and to let her own defences drop.
When Beth thought back to the night she’d climbed the tree to wake Roy, it always made her smile. It was so hare-brained and out of character. And as for the next few days! They had stayed in bed most of the time, hours and hours of love-making, talking, laughing. She would never forget either the dreadful clothes Roy bought her in Asda. Polyester slacks which were four inches too short, a ghastly striped sweater and a red and black bra with matching knickers.
‘I can see you are a high-maintenance sort of woman,’ Roy said with an ear-to-ear grin when she tried them on. ‘Perhaps I should have tried Tesco.’
In those few days Beth felt as if she had shed her old skin and emerged a different woman. She was even afraid to go back to her flat in case the old Beth returned. But she needn’t have worried, the new Beth was stronger. She wrinkled her nose at the so-called tasteful cream decor, and went straight on out and bought half a dozen brilliant-coloured cushions to jazz it up a bit. She got on the phone and told Serena she was in love.
Since then it had been one long round of new experiences. Weekends were spent in Wellingtons and jeans, working on the garden. At night when Roy was working she decorated their bedroom. There were visits to his mother and sisters, helping Roy to tile the bathroom. Loneliness and time hanging on her hands were just a distant memory.
She had come to see that Roy had immersed himself in work for much the same reasons she had – a substitute for a loving relationship. He had his own guilt, for not being closer to his wife and perhaps for not being able to give her what she needed when their son died.
But work came second-place to them both now.
Susan was the only sadness in Beth’s life. She knew perfectly well that she couldn’t do anything to help her any more. She knew Susan wouldn’t want her to either. But her affection for her remained, undiminished even in the face of the monstrousness of her crimes, for she knew it was her old friend who had opened up the door to this happy new life.
She and Steven had found a very able solicitor for Susan. Beth had met Thomas Franklin many times and she knew he was right for her friend. The trial was fixed for the start of July and as Susan was pleading guilty to all charges – four to murder and one of manslaughter in Liam’s case – it wouldn’t take too long.
Beth had sent Susan one last letter via Franklin on his last visit, reminding her that she would never forget her, and that if she needed anything she was to get in touch. Franklin had reported back that Susan had smiled as she read the letter and asked him to pass on a verbal message. It was simply: ‘Stop being a wallflower.’
As Beth waited for the kettle to boil, she gazed out of the window by the sink and sighed with happiness. The window looked out on to more fields, with the boundary of the garden marked by a low hedge, and it faced west so it got the afternoon sun. She thought how good it would be on summer evenings to sit at the table eating dinner and watch the sun go down. Iris, Roy’s mother, had commented that she wouldn’t want so much open countryside so close, as any burglar could easily get through the hedge and rob them. Yet Beth felt more secure here than she’d ever felt in her third-floor flat with all its security systems.
‘Where’s that tea, wench?’ Roy shouted from the front door.
‘Just coming, sir,’ she called back. ‘While you wait you could call the vicar and tell him we’re on for August.’
He leapt into the room, rucking up the rug as he ran to sweep her up in his arms. ‘Great!’ he exclaimed as he twirled her round. ‘Now, you are sure, aren’t you?’ he added as he put her down, looking a little anxious. ‘It might be a bit soon for you after Susan’s trial?’
Beth was touched by his sensitivity. Roy had avoided talking about Susan since they became lovers; whatever loose ends he’d had to tie up in the case he’d kept to himself. But clearly the trial was ever-present in his mind, along with the effect it was going to have on Beth.
‘The wedding plans will take my mind off it,’ she said positively. ‘We know what the outcome will be anyway, don’t we?’
He nodded gravely, then grinned irreverently. ‘You’ll be getting life too, remember?’ he said.
‘That’s a joke in the worst possible taste, Roy,’ she said in shocked tones.
‘We can only joke about it,’ he said, catching hold of her two arms. ‘It’s the best way to deal with it that I know. We can’t change anything, Beth, or undo it. It’s happened, that’s all there is to it.’
Beth knew he was right. Almost everyone she knew involved with tragedy, be it firemen, police or lawyers, made jokes to ease the burden of it. It didn’t mean they didn’t care.
‘Well, just don’t refer to marriage as imprisonment then,’ she said, giving him a sharp look.
He slid his arms around her and held her close. ‘But at least it’s an open prison and the governor loves you,’ he said.
‘Roy!’ she exclaimed, but began to laugh anyway. ‘You are incorrigible.’
‘A council estate boy like me can’t understand such big words.’ He grinned. ‘What does it mean?’
‘Incurable,’ she said. ‘So I suppose I’m stuck with it.’
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Till We Meet Again
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter seventeen
Chapter eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter twenty
Chapter twenty-one
Lesley Pearse, Till We Meet Again
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