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.