The Woman Before Me (31 page)

I spoke as softly as if he were only sleeping, and felt calmer. The worst had already happened. Nothing could touch me now. I could survive anything. I put a hand in my pocket for a tissue and came upon the key to Emma’s back door.

Taking it out I pressed it to my throat, feeling how the heat of my skin was soothed by the cold metal. I may no longer be welcome by the front door but I always had this.

But even as I thought it, I knew that secretive night visits would never be enough. I wouldn’t be able to play with Luke but just sit quietly by his cot and watch him sleep. No more trips out in the pram or the car; I would never be able to take him to see Father Christmas, or to the toyshop or play in the park.

I couldn’t bear the thought. This shadow of motherhood was worse than no motherhood at all.

I couldn’t bear to think of Luke growing up without me, but I knew I had no choice.

I would never see him again, but I would have you.

That night I went to say goodbye.

It was in darkness, and Dominic’s car was gone. I let myself in for the final time.

54

Janie stood alone in her cell, holding the present Rose had given her. Janie loved presents, especially when they came from Rose. The special gift was folded, wrapped up in yellow tissue paper. In her cell Janie slowly, very slowly, opened the present and unfolded the dress until it was flat on her bed.

It was lovely. Pink with tiny white flowers stitched around the hem. No sleeves, so she’d be nice and cool. It was so hot this summer. She’d need help with the zip, which was all the way up the back, but Rose would help her later, when she’d pulled herself together. Poor Rose. She really thought she’d get parole.

Janie pulled off her leggings and T-shirt, and stood only in her faded knickers. She doesn’t wear a bra, doesn’t need to since she’s flat as a pancake, as her dad would say. The dress was a little loose, but so pretty and light that she loved it anyway. Standing on tiptoe, she twisted around to see herself in the tiny mirror above the sink.

Rose had chosen this dress from a catalogue. She’d had it sent in for her and gave it to Janie before she’d got her bad news. Rose likes it when Janie dressed up. And a new dress was a good trade for a bit of snooping. A bit of stealing. All she had to do was get her the key from the big house in Chantry Drive. The one with the pink baby chair with yellow stars.

At first Janie had thought it was Cate Austin’s house but after a few visits she saw that another woman lived there. A pretty, pale woman with a little baby girl. The little girl had golden hair.

Officer Burgess had told Janie that Rose hadn’t got parole. He let her talk to Rose through the viewing window of her locked cell door. “Just for a few minutes,” he told her, “she’s in a bit of a state.” He walked away from her, to the office at the end of the corridor.

“I’ll come and visit you, Rose, after I’m released,” Janie promised, trying to comfort her friend.

Rose didn’t look up from where she lay. “They won’t let you do that.” Her voice was muffled.

“Then I’ll write – I’m quite good now. I’ll be waiting for you, on the day you come out. I’ll find us a nice flat in Ipswich.”

“There’s no point. Not now.”

“Don’t say that, Rose. It’s makes me frightened you’re gonna do something stupid.”

Officer Burgess was getting up from his chair in the office. He looked her way and tapped his watch. Time was nearly up.

“I just wish it had helped,” whispered Janie, “me doing all that snooping.”

“Nothing helped.” Rose was crying. “I won’t ever be free of the past.”

“Rose, who is that woman who lives in that big house in Chantry Drive?”

“Someone who used to be a friend. My best friend. I don’t think I’ll see her again.”

Officer Burgess was walking towards her, jangling his keys. In a few moments she would be locked up too. “Isn’t there anything I can do, Rose? If you want me to snoop in the house, I will. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Officer Burgess shut the flap covering the viewing window and led Janie away. She twitched her head like a faithful pet, ready to run in a wheel that could keep spinning for two more years.

55

Cate picked up the phone on its second ring.

“It’s Callahan. I wanna talk to you.”

“Hi Dave.”

“Funny thing, love. Wilks didn’t get her parole.”

Cate leaned back in her chair. “Is she okay?”

“Hardly. I can’t work it out, see. She’s a model prisoner, and I said so in my report.”

Cate breathed deep, knowing what was to come. Despite his jocular tone she knew that Dave was angry. “I didn’t recommend release.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think she’s ready.” She wasn’t going to go into detail with him on the phone.

“I work with that woman day in day out and I think she’s ready.” Dave’s voice rose, “you meet her for a few hours, say she isn’t, and they listen to
you
? The day shift, you don’t know nothing.”

“Apparently the parole board don’t agree.”

“You patronising bitch!”

Cate sat up, knocking her knee on her desk. “Dave, we are both professionals. We both gave our opinions and…”

“Professionals my arse. You weren’t so fucking professional when you were opening your legs for Burgess, where you?”

Cate gasped, “that never happened.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you? But he says different.”

“Come on, Dave! He’s just a kid.”

Suddenly the line went quiet and Cate was aware of other noises, other voices in the background.

“You hear that, Burgess? She said you’re just a kid and you don’t have enough dick to satisfy her.”

“Dave! Dave?”

But he wasn’t talking to her anymore. Hearing the poisonous laughter coming down the receiver Cate realised that Callahan didn’t care about Rose, he had set her up.

56

When Cate arrived at D wing the landing was quiet. The inmates would be at their work or in lessons, and Mark Burgess was in the office with his feet on the desk and his eyes closed. She did not disturb him but continued to the far end of the corridor and stopped in front of Rose Wilks’ cell door.

Cate knew that the Governor had told Rose that she would not be released. She would still be reeling from the news. Opening the viewing flap, she could see the shape of her on the bed, covered with a blanket. She selected the key from the chain at her waist and opened the door.

Rose didn’t move. It occurred to Cate that she could be dead and she reached her hand for the place that looked like a shoulder, “Rose?”

The blanket was flung back and Rose was staring at her, her face was puffy and red but her eyes were dark. “I don’t want you here.”

“Rose, I know you’re upset. I know you’re angry with me.”

Rose closed her eyes and pulled the blanket back over her head. She began rocking, the whole grey bundle shuddering on the narrow bed. A muffled sound came from her, which Cate couldn’t make out.

“Rose?”

Touching her shoulder again, she tentatively lifted the blanket. “Rose?”

She was curled around an object, and Cate saw her hands were cupping something. It looked like a pile of twigs. “Rose, are you okay?”

“I don’t like fire,” she said, whispering with her eyes still closed. “It scares me.”

“Yes,” said Cate, soothing her.

“I’ve always hated fire. When I was twelve I burned down a disused beach hut with a group of kids from school. They ran while I stood rooted to the spot, hooked by the leaping flames. It terrified me.”

“Okay, Rose.” She was rambling and dazed. Cate thought about calling for Mark, asking him to send for Officer Todd from the hospital unit.

“I’ve always smoked. Even when I was pregnant. It calmed me down, I’d peel back the fold of silver foil, releasing the smell of the cigs. Even holding the white and purple box, relaxed me.”

Silk Cut. The brand of cigarettes that had started the fire in the Hatcher family home. Was Rose about to finally admit her guilt? She continued to rock herself, eyes closed, as Cate stroked her back.

“Luke was so still in my arms, head nestled to my chest. And then I heard her.”

“Who? Emma?”

“I heard her. Having sex.”

Cate thought back to the witness statements. “But Emma was sleeping alone.”

Rose muffled her face into the thin pillow, howling. “Luke, your beautiful boy. Oh Jason…”

“What is it Rose? Tell me.”

“With Luke still in my arms I went into the hall. I could hear the noises coming from Emma. Loud and noisy and then I heard him.”

“Dominic?”

“I heard Jason. My Jason. Saying her name.”

Cate stopped moving her hand, stunned. “Jason was with Emma that night?”

“I stood and listened. She’d promised me she’d stay away from him; we’d made a bargain. I’d gone to say goodbye. But she’d lied when she said she wouldn’t see Jason. He was there.”

“So is that why you started the fire?”

“Oh Luke! How wonderful, to never wake. To never again feel pain or loss or grief.”

“Rose?”

“I put Luke back into his cot. I left the house, I felt like burning the place down, but I didn’t”

“So the fire started after you left? It was Emma or Jason who dropped the cigarette. Why didn’t you tell the police that?”

Rose’s rocking intensified.

Cate sat back on the cell floor, slowly realising what had happened. She had assessed Rose as dangerous because she had never accepted responsibility, but this was because she was innocent. The fire was started after she left, by Emma or Jason, and they had both let Rose take the blame.

Cate recalled Jason’s anger and his sobbing, his repeated mantra,
what have you done
? Emma coming to the prison;
I want you to recommend release
.

Rose’s voice was whiney and weak, her rocking erratic. “He was so peaceful. Wherever he went, Joel is there too. My two boys, side by side. With Mum, with Rita. Safe. I’m too tired for this.”

This was suicidal talk. Cate propelled herself up and out of the cell.

In the office Mark was still snoozing. She knocked his feet off the table

“Cate! What are…”

“Rose needs medical help. She’s having some kind of breakdown.”

But Mark wasn’t listening. He was staring at Cate with a look of contempt. “You made me look like an idiot.”

“Oh shit, Mark, not now. I’m worried about Rose.”

“After what you said I’ve been the laughing stock round here.”

“Mark, I’m sorry… but can we talk about this later, we really need to help Rose.”

“You made a fool of me.”

“And I regret it. But you’ve got to let it go. We’ll be working together for a good while, so we need to get over it.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have Callahan and Holley on your back. Making out I’m not man enough to do it…”

“For Christ’s sake, that’s just bullshit. Come on, Mark you’re better than that!”

“Am I?” He looked up, shyly.
He’s just a kid.

“I want us to be friends, Mark. Let’s work together. Because right now I need you. Rose needs you”

Mark sat straight, as if called to attention.

“She’s not well. I think she might be psychotic.”

“She’s always been strange. Maybe not getting parole pushed her over the edge?”

“We need to act fast, Mark, before she does something stupid to herself or someone else. Call Officer Todd. Get her to come over from the hospital unit.”

Turning on her heels, Cate returned to Rose’s cell.

Rose was her on back, swaying from side to side, her eyes were open. She was talking as if to some vision in front of her.

“Oh Joel, Joel. Forgive me. It was only you I wanted. If only I’d been able to keep you, if only you were alive.”

Cate put an arm around Rose, “I’ve just asked for some help to come. I think you need a doctor.”

“Tears and the heat. The dead boy in my arms.”

“Rose, what are you talking about? You said you’d already left the house when Luke died?”

“Here,” Rose looked at Cate and pulled something from under her body. It was a black notebook. “You have this. You read it. It’s no use to me now.”

Mark appeared at the cell door with Officer Todd by his side. He nodded to Cate, and took over.

“Help is here, Rose, you’ll be okay now.”

57

Cate opened the small black book and read:

Dear Jason, didn’t you wonder why I took the blame for your crime?

This letter, this final letter in my Black Book will break your heart. It breaks mine.

You kept silent all these years, and let me take the blame for Luke’s death. I heard you together. I saw the cigarettes on the table in the kitchen. I’ll never know which of you lit that cigarette, but it wasn’t me. I accepted the punishment because of Luke. Knowledge is a burden, which you’ll have to carry now. I can’t protect you from the truth.

In my cell, Luke and Joel visit me. They’ve been alive in my arms and safe from harm, my sweet boys, safe from harm.

The blackbirds are nesting, and no magpie can hurt them now.

I only have seagulls, but where is the nest? They don’t seem to have any home.

I’d just discovered that Luke was your son. I was holding him, seeing him closely for the first time. His golden-red hair, just like yours. I knew then that you’d betrayed me, not just once, but many times. I was angry. I was hurt.

You never loved me, but you loved Joel. And I didn’t know what to do with my anger. Lying there in his incubator, he was so small, so vulnerable. His tiny limbs, purple against the white of the over-large nametag bearing his name – Baby Wilks. The tag was to stop another woman taking him, to stop confusion over whether he was really mine. In those moments, looking into the incubator, he seemed so far from me. You loved him, I had seen how much. You didn’t love me. You had betrayed me.

My love for Joel wasn’t the fleeting love most mothers have for their sons, quickly forgotten when they come home muddy or truant from school. My own mother’s love wasn’t strong. She was so weak, so ill, that she barely noticed Peter or me. She took her own life, leaving us in the dark. I would never do that to my baby.