‘Oh wow Flora, that’s brilliant!’
‘I know! I can’t believe it!’
‘What new evidence? Do you want a coffee…?’
‘No thanks. You go ahead though.’
Caroline shook her head. ‘Don’t keep me in suspense! What new evidence?’
‘Well!’ Flora wanted to jump up and move, walk, jump, run. Caroline was looking at her almost in trepidation, as if afraid Flora was getting her hopes up prematurely. ‘The police have searched the Johnsons’ property – not much to find in the house, obviously, it’s basically been wrecked by the fire and any forensic evidence that might have been in there’s been obliterated – but in the so-called garden they found a chain buried, wrapped in a boiler suit. And the chain matches the chain that was used to strangle Neil. Apparently there’s tests they can do to match the metal and the way it’s made… Anyway, the neighbours say they used a long chain to tie up their Rottweiler in the garden, after it jumped the fence and went for someone… But then the chain was replaced by nylon rope, right after Neil’s murder apparently. So it looks as if they used a bit of this chain, and the idiots buried the rest of it.’
Caroline blinked at her. ‘In their own garden?’
‘I know, stupid or what? But that’s not the best part. Ryan Johnson’s DNA is all over the boiler suit, along with Neil’s. It’s conclusive. My conviction is going to be overturned, and Ryan Johnson is going to be arrested for Neil’s murder!’
‘That’s – that’s amazing, Flora. I’m sorry, I’m in shock here…’
‘I know! Me too! Apparently there’s probably going to be compensation as there’s a question of police incompetence in that the initial investigation was incomplete, and Caroline, no arguments, I want you to have it. I want you to have the compensation money – you’ve more than earned it, you’ve been absolutely wonderful. I was going to ask you, though, for one last favour?’
‘Aye?’
‘There’ll be a period of adjustment for Beckie. I wonder if it would be okay if we all lived together for a few weeks, just until she gets used to having me around again? Would it be okay if I joined you in Bearsden?’
‘Course it would, that’ll be great.’ But Caroline looked shell-shocked. Not surprisingly. Flora had known for days that she was getting out, and she still couldn’t get her head round it. This was really happening! She was going to be back with Beckie! It was all going to be okay!
‘Oh, and we have to let the adoption people know that it’s not going ahead.’
‘I’ll do that. I’ll sort all that, Flora, don’t you worry. Just you concentrate on your appeal. That’s the important thing to focus on at the moment, yeah?’
‘I’m thinking we’ll probably move abroad. I can get a passport now – I’m going to legally change my name from Rachel Clark to Flora Parry by deed poll. I was wondering about New Zealand, where Pippa seems to have settled down with this new man of hers… But you’d still be part of Beckie’s life, I hope? You’d come for holidays?’
‘Ooh, New Zealand, eh? Try and stop me!’
I’m shaking so I am. I’ve got the case open on the bed and I’m shoving Bekki’s clothes in it, and she’s whinging on about they fucking wee trees, how she cannae leave them behind, and I’m going, ‘Aye, we’ll get they packed up and sent on, sweetheart, dinnae you worry.’ Aye right. Oh dear, looks like they got lost in the fucking useless Spanish post.
Now she’s going, ‘But why do we have to leave tonight?’
‘You know how Flora made you move house and get a new name and that, because she said we were bad people and you were in danger from us?’
Bekki gives me evils. ‘She never said that.’
‘Aye, but reading between the lines, eh? Well, she was lying through her teeth about that, so she was, cos how would we hurt a wee sweetheart we love to bits? You know what irony is, Bekki? Well, the irony is, we’ve having to do the same thing because Flora’s getting out of prison because she planted evidence on us and the police are thinking one of the lads killed your dad, and you’re gonnae see all sorts of shite on the net about that, but that’s all it is, right? Shite. Because me and you, we know she did it. She telt me and she telt you she killed your dad.’
Wee Bekki’s shaking her head. ‘No. No way.’
‘Now that mad bitch is getting out and who knows what she’s gonnae do – who knows if she’s gonnae come after you because she’s telt you she killed him and she’s feart you’re gonnae shoot your mouth off. But you dinnae have to worry, right, cos we’re disappearing, and we’re doing it right. We’re off to Spain! Off to Sunny Spain. It’s gonnae be a magic adventure, and you’ve got a magic new name.’
‘I’m not going.’
‘Oh aye hen, you’re going all right. Don’t you wannae know what your new name is?’
She folds her arms. ‘What?’
‘Madison. Bonnie, eh?’
‘That’s a chav name.’ And she huffs out the room and slams the toilet door.
Bairns! Christ sakes, as if I’ve no got enough on my plate without Bekki playing up. We’re outta here, and when we get to Spain that lazy fuckwit Travis is fucking dead so he is for landing us in this fucking mess.
Wendy tossed Flora another towel from the clean laundry basket, and Flora folded it and placed it on the pile. That was another thing she would be glad to see the back of – the awful orangey-beige towels, the colour presumably chosen to hide a multitude.
And laundry duty – the airless, humid little room, the smell of sickly sweet washing powder and sweat.
‘Reckon Shannon-Rose must be in this gaff,’ Wendy said. ‘You’d think she’d be in Carstairs, seeing how she’s a fucking loony-tune. You’d better watch yourself, doll. Dinnae go telling folk nothing about your pal that’s looking after Beckie. Nothing, aye? If her name or that gets back to Shannon-Rose, the Johnsons’ll be on it like flies on shite.’
‘But as far as I know, Shannon-Rose is in Carstairs.’ Flora caught the next towel. ‘What makes you think she’s here?’
‘Yesterday, right, I’m at the Rec Room windae and the visitors are coming out the Family Hub making for Reception, and one of them, I’ve seen her before visiting, right, but I didnae recognise the bitch – but that was before you telt me all the shite that’s gone on with the Johnsons, you know? She’s gone brunette and she’s been to Weight Watchers or that, and she’s had herself a fucking makeover. Thinks she’s all that but she’s still just a fucking Haghill slag. It’s Lorraine fucking Johnson. She’s got her arse in this navy trouser suit out Hobbs or shite and a wee flowery scarf, but she’s putting the beef back on and I reckon that’s how come I –’
And Flora was somehow sitting down on one of the hard chairs, and Wendy was saying, ‘Flora? What’s up, hen? Flora?’
And Flora was on her feet, she was dropping the towel on the floor, she was saying, ‘I have to – I have to make a phone call – I have to call Charles right now.’
‘Aye, okay, but –’
‘She’s got Beckie! Lorraine Johnson’s got Beckie!’
Two hours later Flora was on the edge of her chair, both legs jiggling, as Charles swept into the room and dropped onto the chair opposite. His hair was standing up on one side where the wind had dishevelled it and he hadn’t bothered to smooth it. His face was white.
‘They’ve gone,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry, Flora. The police went to the house in Bearsden, but they’ve gone.’
37
Two Months Later