Faith - Lesley Pearse [207]
A cynic would say he was only unbending with her now because at last he had a winner, but she would rather think that Stuart’s intervention had shown him that there was something to like about her.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. ‘Bless you,’ she murmured. ‘And thank you for everything.’
Bravo Block was alight with excitement that evening, just as it always was when one of their number was going to court and their release looked likely. There was a generosity of spirit at such times, everyone offering something, be it an article of clothing, a keepsake, or just advice and good wishes.
Laura’s appearance had been scrutinized by everyone. Even the girls in their late teens and early twenties who normally believed a woman of fifty was too old for anyone to care how she looked, had offered suggestions for improvements. Laura had had her hair trimmed and coloured by the hairdresser during the afternoon. It was a sleek dark brown bob again, and one of the girls had given her a manicure and painted her nails a pretty pink. Shelley, one of the young girls on the wing, had plucked her eyebrows for her too.
Getting back the outfit which had been in storage since the day she was convicted was bittersweet. The terrible memories of that day, and the sheer hopelessness she’d felt, came back with the force of a bulldozer when she was handed her clothes. But the navy-blue pinstriped suit and white shirt still fitted her perfectly, even if the power-suit shoulder pads had gone out of fashion while she’d been inside, and she began to feel excited rather than afraid. She wasn’t sure she could walk in high heels again, but they felt so elegant and feminine she didn’t care if they crippled her.
She had nothing other than a few toiletries and her spare sets of clothes to give away to the other women, for she hadn’t ever bothered to collect stuff up like most of them did. All she was taking with her was the notebook she’d been writing her life story in, and she hoped that sometime in the future she’d have a happy postscript to add to it.
But when everyone was finally locked in their cells for the night, and she heard the women calling to one another as usual all the way down the block, she suddenly felt afraid again.
However bad it had been in here sometimes, there was a kind of safety and predictability about it. Tomorrow, when she was out in the mainstream of life again, would she be able to cope? She couldn’t even imagine crossing a road, let alone driving again, or going into a pub and buying a drink. She was going to miss the other women, even though she’d made no strong friendships in prison.
Would she have anything in common with other women on the outside? What on earth would she talk about? She buried her head in books most of the time here, and when she did have a chat with someone it was mostly about their family problems. She knew more than she wanted to know about abusive relationships, out-of-control teenagers, truants, pimps, fences, alcoholism and drug-taking. It had become her world. She’d lost all sense of the Laura Brannigan who had once owned her own dress shop.
‘And it is Mrs Brannigan’s intention to live with her sister in Catford, London?’ The judge peered over his glasses at Goldsmith below his bench.
‘Yes, Your Honour,’ Goldsmith replied. ‘Miss Wilmslow is present in court if you would like to speak to her.’
Meggie caught Laura’s eye and grinned encouragingly at her.
The sisters hadn’t had any opportunity to speak to each other yet. Laura had been brought to the High Court by prison van, and was already waiting in the dock when Meggie came into the courtroom with Goldsmith. It had been over five years since they last met. They might have talked on the phone every week before Laura went to prison, and written to each other more recently, but that hadn’t prepared Laura for seeing her younger sister again in the flesh.
Meggie was forty-four now, and her once long