Читать книгу The Madam - Jaime Raven, Jaime Raven - Страница 11

It was a relief to get back to the flat. I felt bone-numbingly tired, but too hyped up to go straight to sleep. I undressed and had a shower. The jets of hot water blasted the sludge from my brain and I felt much better.

When I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Scar handed me a mug of steaming tea.

‘Would you like me to make you breakfast?’ she asked.

I shook my head. ‘I’m not hungry. You go ahead.’

‘I had something before I came to pick you up.’

I sipped the tea as I walked over to the window and looked out. Dark clouds were scudding across the sky, and the streets were a sombre shade of grey.

‘I called Tiny while you were in the shower,’ Scar said. ‘He’s coming over later.’

I turned and felt my eyebrows pull together.

‘So what did he say?’

‘He said he’d be happy to help out because he’s got nothing better to do. For fifty quid a day he’ll watch your mum’s house and keep an eye on her and your brother when they go out. And he understands that it’s not a done deal, and that you’ll want to see him first.’

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ I said. ‘I take it he knows about us.’

‘Of course. That’s another reason he’s keen to get involved. He wants to meet his ex-wife’s girlfriend.’

I sat down on the sofa to finish my tea and think through the day ahead. Scar lowered herself onto the armchair opposite me and crossed her legs. She looked tired and drawn. And worried.

‘Are you all right?’ I said.

She hunched her shoulders. ‘This is all a bit scary, Lizzie. I still can’t believe what those fuckers did to your brother. We shouldn’t need to be recruiting a minder for them.’

I chewed my lower lip and looked her squarely in the eyes.

‘I won’t blame you if you decide to move out,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t fair of me to get you involved in the first place. If anything happens to you I’ll never forgive myself.’

‘Don’t be a bloody drama queen, Lizzie. I’ve told you, I’m in this with you all the way despite the fact that what you’re doing is crazy.’

I felt warm tears well up in my eyes. I’d never had someone in my life like Scar. Someone who was prepared to stick by me no matter what. It was a strange, but comforting feeling.

‘I don’t deserve you,’ I said.

She clucked her tongue. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you stopped putting yourself down? Okay, so in the eyes of the law you’re a killer as well as a retired whore. You bite your nails and grind your teeth when you’re sleeping. And you’re so stubborn it’s infuriating. But believe it or not you do have a few redeeming features.’

I tried not to grin. ‘And what are they?’

She pretended to think about it. ‘You have nice eyes. Your cheeks dimple when you smile. You’ve got a kind heart and soft hands.’ A pause, then: ‘Oh, and you make me very happy.’

I had to force myself not to cry. They were the kindest words anyone had ever said to me.

I put the mug of tea on the carpet and stood up. Scar raised her brow as I shed the robe and let it drop to the floor.

‘You deserve a treat for being so kind,’ I said, holding out my hand.

Another smile spread across her face and her eyes lit up. She got to her feet and took my hand. I gave her a gentle kiss on the lips and led her into the bedroom.

We made love for almost an hour and then we lay on the bed reminiscing about what it had been like inside. Before we eventually dozed off we talked about our fellow inmates, the ones we liked and the ones we didn’t like. And we reminded each other of the many times we’d had sex on the floor of the cell and in the showers. And how on several occasions the screws had walked in when we were doing it.

We had each occupied single cells before they put us together. Neither of us had wanted to share but from that first day we hit it off and it wasn’t long before we realised we were physically attracted to one another. I was the one who actually made the first move. Scar was upset over something and she was lying on her bed and sobbing. So I sat next to her and started massaging her shoulders and then her neck. When she turned on her back I felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. And so I did, and she responded by pushing her tongue into my mouth. It was as though we’d both been waiting for it to happen.

In the dream it’s Christmas Day and Mark is bouncing little Leo on his lap. We’re at my mother’s house and for once she’s in a good mood. The festive spirit has encouraged us all to make an effort for Leo’s sake. It’s his first Christmas and we all want to make it a special one.

Mark loves his little nephew and he used his disability welfare payments to buy him a giant panda that sings nursery rhymes. Mum’s bought him more toys than I can be bothered to count.

She’s been able to spoil him because I’ve paid for everything else, including all the food and wine and their new 42-inch flat-screen television. The money from the escorting has made it all so much easier. Before I started whoring we were living hand to mouth and life was a struggle. What little I received in benefits I squandered on fags, booze and drugs because it was the only way I could relieve the pressure. My choices were limited and my prospects were grim. And the longer it carried on the worse I felt about myself. But after swallowing my pride and seizing control of the situation, I’m now flush with cash and the future’s looking much brighter for Leo.

Of course, my mother has no idea what I really do when she’s looking after Leo. She thinks I’m holding down two jobs – one in a restaurant and the other in a bar. It accounts for the odd hours I work. I hate to think how she’d react if she ever found out the truth. But as far as I’m concerned that’s never going to happen.

As I look at my kid brother playing with Leo a great wave of sadness rolls over me. I’m reminded of what happened to him all those years ago when he came to my rescue. The damage to his brain from hitting his head on the kerb has blighted his entire life. He’s never had a girlfriend and he’ll almost certainly never have children. It’s such an awful shame.

My mother has thankfully stopped telling me that it was my fault, but I know she still thinks it. I can see it in her eyes sometimes when she looks at me. It makes me wonder if she wishes I was the one cursed with a disability.

‘Well merry Christmas everyone,’ I say in order to banish the negative thoughts from my mind. ‘And let’s hope we have many, many more.’

I get up from the sofa and walk over to my brother to give him a kiss on the cheek. Then I turn to my mother and give her a hug.

She pats my back affectionately and says, ‘Thank God you’re getting your life together at last, Lizzie. That little boy has changed you for the better. For his sake you have to follow a righteous path from now on. No more drugs and drink. No more consorting with unreliable men. Stay on the path and all will be well.’

I woke up with my mother’s words ringing in my ears. The memory of that Christmas Day was still vivid and I often dreamt about it. We all had such a great time and we were like a normal family again.

I’d been full of optimism back then, and I’d even dared to hope that my mother was beginning to think I wasn’t such a wretched daughter after all.

But, of course, I should have known better than to believe that things would turn out well for me, especially given the fact that I never did stick to that righteous path.

I didn’t want to get out of bed. I would have been content to lie there for the rest of the day, making love to Scar and slipping in and out of sleep.

But there were things to do. People to see. So I forced myself up and into the bathroom for another shower.

It still felt weird to have freedom of movement. In my head I’d been conditioned to the monotonous routine of prison life. Not having to ask for permission to do things would take some getting used to.

I wondered what it was like for lifers when they were tossed back into society after so many years inside. How the hell did they cope? Did they ever settle back into a normal rhythm? Or did they struggle to adjust until the day they died?