Dolly stood up. She liked George, he got straight to the point. He held the door open, beckoning her to follow him.
They drove to the police station in Fuller’s immaculate green Jaguar and Dolly told him exactly what had occurred since she was released from Holloway. She also asked if he would take on Kathleen O’Reilly’s case as a favour to her. He inclined his head a little, and then gave that icy smile. ‘If she can meet the fees, then yes.’
‘She can’t but I will.’
Ester and Julia had already left to begin their assignments. Julia was calling at Norma’s cottage and Ester went to talk to Raymond Dewey. Connie was already at the station, watching the man in the signal box. He had a pot belly and she felt he would have heavy BO. She shuddered but then, crossing to the signal box, she saw the pleasant-faced young man who had given her a lift the day she arrived. She saw him walk up the steps, as the pot-bellied man banged out.
‘You’re late again, Jim.’
‘Sorry, Mac, got held up.’
‘Oh yeah? Who was it last night, then?’
Jim guffawed as he entered the signal box. Connie waited a moment and then ran out, colliding with the fat man. She was right. He was a walking BO advert. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she gasped as she fell forward and then yelped. ‘My ankle, oh...’
It didn’t take long for Jim to come down the steps with a glass of water as Connie sat at the bottom. She sipped the water and then tried to stand but had to sit down again.
‘I’m sorry, love, I just didn’t see you. Do you need a doctor?’ Pot-bellied Mac looked down into her face, concerned.
‘I’m all right, just a bit dizzy.’
Jim helped her up and looked at his mate. ‘You go off, Mac, I’ll take care of her. Maybe she should just sit here for a while.’
Mac muttered that he just bet his mate would take care of her, and trundled off towards his beat-up Ford Granada. ‘See you tomorrow, Jim.’
But Jim wasn’t listening. He was supporting Connie, his arm around her.
‘Lucky sod,’ mused Mac, as he drove out. He wouldn’t have minded taking care of her — she was a cracker.
DCI Craigh stared at the estimates then at George Fuller and at the impassive face of Dolly Rawlins. He didn’t really look at them properly — he was too edgy. Fuller had detailed the police warrant issues, times and dates, and that on her release Rawlins had, in his estimation, been harassed. If it was to be made public, not only the waste of public money but that a woman who had served her sentence and been released with every good intention of building a home for ex-prisoners, had been picked on, there would be trouble. Craigh tried to interrupt but Fuller stopped him, not letting him get a word in.
We obviously know that a Mrs Kathleen O’Reilly was arrested at Mrs Rawlins’s establishment but she was unaware of any of the outstanding charges levelled at Mrs O’Reilly and all the women resident at the manor are, as you must be aware, ex-prisoners. But as Mrs Rawlins was attempting to open a home to give these unfortunate women a chance to straighten out their lives, then it is only to be expected that residents would be, like herself, ex-prisoners. To my mind there has been a flagrant misuse of policing and the harassment could be levelled at your department. If it were to be made public in one or other of the papers, I’m sure it would make for popular reading, if a touch unpopular for the Metropolitan Police?’
Fuller hardly drew breath. His steely, quiet, authoritative voice hammered home his points and lastly he dropped in his ace, not as a threat but as a fact. ‘Also, it is possible that one of the men in your team, Detective Chief Inspector, has a private vendetta against Mrs Rawlins, totally without proof. And this also brings up the added insult that you have accused Mrs Rawlins of being associated with a James Donaldson who, I understand, recently died while in your custody.’
Craigh felt the rug being pulled from under him but he remained calm. His hands clenched into fists on the desk, and he said nothing, but gazed ahead at a small dot on the wallpaper.
‘So if you would please give the estimates your due care and attention, I would be most grateful if Mrs Rawlins could receive payment for the damage to her property as soon as possible.’
Fuller rose, gestured to Dolly to accompany him to the door. She shook Craigh’s hand but did not smile as Fuller waited for her to leave in front of him.
‘Thank you for your time, Detective Chief Inspector.’ Fuller closed the door after him. Craigh ground his teeth; it had been tough keeping his mouth shut. He would have liked to punch the bastard. His eyes glanced down at the detailed list of damage done to the manor during the two raids. He turned over the pages that listed deep freezers being turned off, banisters and rails damaged, the front door, the rear door. Then his jaw dropped as he read the total figure.
Ten thousand quid? Ten grand?’
Dolly was rigid as she waited for Kathleen to be brought into the visiting section. Coming back inside made her feel ill, the hair on the nape of her neck standing up as she kept her eyes down, refusing to look in the direction of any of the prison officers. All she wanted to do was to say what she had to say to Kathleen and get out.
Kathleen was led through the door from the prisoners’ section. She was wearing a green overall, her own shoes, and an Alice band that someone must have given her to keep her thick red hair back from her wide white face. She looked tired, defeated and bloated.
Dolly reached over and held her big raw hand. ‘Hello, Kathleen love.’
‘Well, I’m back. I knew it’d happen one day but you know I just hoped we’d make some cash so I could get me and the kids to Ireland. It was just a dream, really. I should have known I’d be picked up one day. I’m just sorry it was at your place.’
‘So am I, but I’ve got you books and there’s money between the pages. Give a few quid out to some of the girls, ones that knew me. Rest you use for whatever. I got George Fuller taking on your case, I’ll find the money to pay him.’
‘I never said nothing, you know, Dolly.’
‘I didn’t think you would. Kathleen.’
‘I’m no snitch.’
‘It was Angela. We found out she’d been knocked up by that young copper.’
‘The bastard.’
‘She’s no better. We’ve chucked her out on her ear.’
Kathleen flicked through the pages of the paperback novel, looking at the neatly folded fifty-quid notes. She suddenly looked at Dolly; her eyes seemed dead. ‘I could have said something, though. I could have said about the diamonds, even the guns, but I didn’t.’
Dolly waited, knowing she was going to be hit. It just surprised her that Kathleen would try it on, even after she’d hired her a bloody lawyer.
‘I’ll get at least five this time,’ Kathleen said without expression. Dolly made no reply, waiting as Kathleen fingered the paperback. ‘I want my kids taken care of, Dolly. Sheena, Kate and Mary. They’re in a convent but they’ll be split up soon, I know it. Not many places can take three kids, three sisters, they’ll split them up, so...’
Dolly looked at her, hard. ‘So what, Kathleen?’
‘You take them, Dolly. I’ve written to the convent, made you their legal guardian. You just got to sign the papers. I want you to look after them until I get out.’
‘I can’t do that,’ hissed Dolly.
‘Yes, you can. You wanted kids in that place — well, now I’m giving you mine. You take them, Dolly, please. Please don’t make me talk to the coppers about you, take my kids.’ Kathleen bowed her head, as big tears slid down her flat cheeks. ‘I was a lousy mother but I’d turn grass for them. I would, Dolly. They’re all I’ve got that’s decent. Please, take them, keep them together for me.’