The Guilty Couple(5)

‘Sutherland!’ Two weighty thumps on the door to our cell make me jump. A key scrapes against the lock and the door opens.

‘Come on then.’ Davies, one of the guards, crooks her finger and jerks her head to one side. ‘Say your goodbyes. It’s time to go and—’ She narrows her eyes. ‘What happened to your face?’

‘I walked into my bunk, miss.’

‘Did you, now?’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Good job you’re getting out then.’

I take Grace’s photo from the small pile of my belongings and drop the rest onto Smithy’s bunk.

‘It’s not much, but you won’t need any commissary for the next week. Thank you, Smithy. I mean it. I couldn’t have got through the last few years without you.’

‘Ah, piss off.’ She laughs good-naturedly and pushes me away. ‘I’ll see you in a week.’

‘I meant what I said, Kelly. I’ll help you out. I’ll give you the money I promised you so you can do that carpentry course.’

‘Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.’ She waves a dismissive hand through the air. ‘We’ll do it,’ she adds as I head for the open door. ‘Promise you.’

Davies raises an eyebrow. ‘Do what exactly?’

‘Olivia was fitted up, miss, and we’re going to prove it when I get out.’

‘Framed, were you, Sutherland?’ The prison officer smirks as she moves to one side to let me out. ‘Course you were. Come on, let’s go.’





Chapter 4


OLIVIA


Ayesha gets up from the sofa that will be my bed for the night and crosses her tiny North London living room. She picks up the glass water spray on the mantlepiece and squirts the fern on the window sill. I shift in my armchair, tucking my feet under my bum. The jogging bottoms and sweatshirt she gave me yesterday so I could get changed after my shower are too small in the arms and legs, but at least I no longer smell like my cell.

‘Aysh?’ I ask again. ‘Please.’

She sighs and puts down the water spray. ‘It’s a terrible idea.’ She returns to the sofa and pulls a cushion onto her lap. ‘If someone sees you and reports you you’ll—’

‘I know, my probation officer already made that perfectly clear.’

‘You’ll get sent back to prison. You won’t see Grace for years.’

‘No one will see me.’

‘Liv, you’ve got a supervised visit with her on Tuesday. You only need to wait another three days.’

‘I need to see her now, Aysh.’ I grind my knuckles against my sternum but it does nothing to lessen the burning sensation in my chest. ‘It’s been two years …’

It’s been killing me, not knowing how she is. I need to see her. I need to know she’s okay.

Ayesha rubs a hand over the back of her neck. Her resolve is crumbling.

‘So will you?’ I ask. ‘Take me to her school? In time for pick-up? I won’t talk to her, I promise. I’ll just sit in the car and watch. You can put on the child locks if you want.’

‘I haven’t got child locks.’

‘Please Ayesha, you’re my best friend.’

Indecision clouds her eyes. She’s torn between wanting to help me and wanting to protect me from myself.

‘What if Grace sees you? Or calls the police?’

‘She won’t.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Because she’s my daughter.’ Desperate tears fill my eyes and I swipe them away. ‘And she loves me. I know she does, even if she hates me too. Please. Please just let me look at her. I won’t ask anything of you, ever again.’

Ayesha laughs softly. ‘Why do I get the feeling that’s a promise you’re not going to be able to keep?’

It’s a no-parking zone outside Longacre Academy so Ayesha pulls up in a side street nearby. It’s the only street with a bus stop and if Grace still lives in our old house she’ll have to walk directly past the car to catch the bus home.

‘You okay?’ Ayesha turns off the engine.

‘Yes, no. No, mostly no.’ I feel jittery and unanchored and my feet are pounding out a frantic beat on the rubber mats in the footwell. I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long it feels like a scene from a film.

‘They’re coming out.’ Ayesha squints into the distance. ‘I just spotted a couple of navy blazers.’

I’ve never seen this uniform before. The last time I did the school run Grace was wearing a deep red jumper with the emblem of the school stitched over her heart. She barely reached my shoulder back then. I’ve got no idea how tall she is now.

Teenagers I don’t recognise cross the road and saunter towards us, their eyes on each other, or their phones. As they pass us not a single one of them glances our way.

Ayesha reaches for my hand and squeezes it. ‘You’re shaking. Take a deep breath. Try to calm down.’

I’m not sure I know how to do either of those things anymore. I just want to see my girl.

More kids now, in a huge group, cross the road and then peel off to the left and the right. I can’t see all of their faces. One of them could be Grace. She might be walking to her new house or catching a lift with a friend. She might not be getting the bus at all.