Faith - Lesley Pearse [106]
The moment when she found a large brown envelope in the same place she’d found money back in February was the only time that night when she stopped hurting for a few brief seconds. She didn’t think it was the same wad of money, for it was in a different envelope, but a quick glance inside told her there was even more than in the first one.
With it safely in her handbag, she went back out on to the landing and stopped before the mirror to brace herself before lifting Barney out of his cot. Her face was thankfully unmarked, but when she pulled up her shirt she saw purple weals across her chest and stomach. She couldn’t manage to twist herself enough to check her back, and she guessed that was even worse.
Picking Barney up was the hardest thing of all. Every nerve ending in her back, arms and even her legs screamed for her to stop. He was heavy, and sound asleep a dead weight, but somehow she managed to get him into her arms and wrap his blanket around him.
It was a warm night, and still light though well after ten, so she half expected her neighbours to come out. After all, they must have heard her screaming earlier and seen her putting the cases into the space behind the Beetle’s back seat. But the only people in the road were down the far end by Kings Road.
Barney didn’t wake as she laid him down on the back seat. Wincing with pain, she eased herself into the driver’s seat, started the engine and drove off.
‘Gonnae stamp my book?’
Laura was startled out of her reverie by Frances from her own block, standing in front of the desk grinning at her.
‘Sexy daydream?’ Frances giggled.
‘A real hot one,’ Laura replied and smiled. Frances was a nice kid, only eighteen, a Goth and something of a hard case, but she was bright and often very funny.
‘I’ll let you get back to it then,’ Frances replied. ‘Any good?’ she asked, waving her copy of Cover Her Face by P.D. James.
‘Great,’ Laura said. ‘But you might find English village life a bit tame after Glasgow, even with Inspector Dalgliesh on the prowl.’
‘Is there any sex in it?’ Frances asked.
Laura half smiled. ‘Do you want there to be?’
‘There’s nae point reading it unless there’s some.’ Frances shrugged.
Later that same day, when she was back in her cell after supper, Laura put down her pen and notepad as she found herself thinking about Stuart. She wondered where he was and what he was doing, and smiled to herself thinking how smart he was to have found Meggie. She would love to know what they talked about – Stuart had a way of making women open up. When they were together she almost told him the whole truth about Greg many times, and now she didn’t know what possessed her to keep it to herself.
Was it her ego? Afraid she would look less shiny and whole? Or because she never wanted anyone to feel sorry for her?
She really didn’t know. She knew now that there was no shame in admitting hurt and fear or in showing another person you could be vulnerable. But at twenty-seven she had been something of a hothead.
That night when she left Chelsea, she drove all the way to Brixham in Devon. It was astounding that she got there, considering her injuries. She remembered that she cried on and off all the way.
‘Funny how people run to places they were once happy in,’ she murmured to herself.
She could have gone over to Meggie and Ivy’s, to Jackie too for that matter, any one of them would have comforted her, tucked her into a bed and taken care of Barney too. But it was that pride thing. She didn’t want them to see her that way.
It was just on dawn when she got to Brixham and she parked her car in the harbour and watched the sky gradually lightening. She was in such pain she could barely focus her eyes, and she was dreading Barney waking because she didn’t know how she was going to be able to look after him. In her rush to leave she’d forgotten his pushchair, and she doubted she’d be able to carry him.
But as the sun rose she took comfort in the symbolism of a new day. She might be badly hurt but she’d finally got away from Greg. She had to embark on a new life now,