Faith (59 page)

There was no shortage of news about how Belle was faring in prison, but then even the most trivial piece of news passed along the grapevine at the speed of light. By all accounts she was fluctuating between hysteria and aggression, and treating her fellow prisoners as if they were subhuman and she was royalty. Someone said she got up one morning to find her hair was coming out in clumps. Laura had known alopecia strike other women here, but to Belle, whose appearance was everything, it must have been a cruel blow.

Laura was just putting a few returned books back on the shelves when she sensed everyone in the library stiffen. She turned to see that Belle had come in with Prison Officer Blake, whom Laura remembered well from her time on the remand block.

Belle looked awful; her hair was like a bird’s nest, and she had bald patches. She was pale and drawn, and the oversized trousers and shirt she was wearing clearly weren’t her own, for they were made of the kind of polyester fabric she would never wear.

She looked aghast at finding herself face to face with Laura. Clearly she hadn’t been warned that she worked in the library.

‘I don’t want any scenes, Brannigan,’ Blake said, her tone sharp and suspicious. ‘Howell just wants a book.’

Laura could hardly blame Blake for her attitude towards her – she had after all been a difficult prisoner while on remand. Yet she had a sneaky feeling that Blake had brought Belle here hoping for trouble.

‘I don’t do scenes any longer,’ Laura said icily. She didn’t like Blake – the woman had a very cruel streak, she enjoyed giving prisoners bad news and was well known for inciting trouble on her block by setting one woman against another. She walked up closer to Belle. ‘Hello, Belle, what kind of book are you after?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘Just something easy to read.’

‘There’s Danielle Steel or Catherine Cookson,’ Laura said. ‘The first book I read in here was
The Wheel of Fortune
by Susan Howatch. That would be appropriate for you too.’

There was a flicker of something in Belle’s eyes; she’d clearly realized that was a sly dig at her. ‘Anything will do,’ she said.

‘I would really like to talk to you,’ Laura said. ‘Not here in front of everyone, somewhere more private. If I ask the governor, will you agree to it?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Brannigan,’ Blake roared out. ‘Now, get her a couple of books pronto.’

After that chance meeting with Belle, Laura was even more unsettled and nervy. Word reached her that the police were coming almost every day to interview Belle, and she felt tortured by not knowing what was going on. She was worried about Stuart, for although he’d written from the hospital to say he was on the mend and he hoped to see her soon, the letter seemed very stilted and formal. That gave her the idea he was in a lot of pain.

Finally, on the Monday, sixteen days after Stuart had been stabbed, she was called from the library because Patrick Goldsmith had come to see her.

As she walked into the interview room, his face broke into the widest smile. ‘I’ve got some great news for you. We’ve got an emergency court hearing tomorrow. I’m ninety-nine per cent sure I’ll be able to get you bail until your appeal. The prosecution aren’t likely to oppose it, not after the recent developments.’

Laura felt quite faint with the shock, not just of his news, but that Patrick was capable of being so jubilant. He had told her the previous week that this might be possible, but he hadn’t given her any indication that things could happen this quickly.

You mean I can just walk away from the court?’ she said incredulously.

Patrick laughed. ‘Yes, of course. There is one small problem though, you don’t have anywhere to live, and that will be a condition of the bail. As there was no time to arrange accommodation in Edinburgh, I’m afraid I took the liberty of ringing your sister Meggie to ask her if you could stay with her in London. I hope you don’t mind?’

‘No, not at all,’ Laura said. She had written to Meggie since her telephone conversation with her, but as yet she had not received a reply. ‘But more importantly, did she mind?’

‘She’s delighted, and what’s more, she’s flying up this evening to be with you in court tomorrow.’

Laura’s eyes filled with tears of emotion. ‘That’s wonderful,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘Thank you so much, Patrick, I wouldn’t have liked to ask her myself, it’s a bit of an imposition, but I’ll be much happier to be in London than staying here.’

‘That was Stuart’s feeling too,’ Patrick said, and his voice had real warmth in it. ‘He thought you’d be the focus of too much media attention here. He came out of hospital on Friday and I popped in to see him last night.’

‘How is he?’ she asked eagerly, wishing she’d known he was back home so she could have phoned him.

‘Much better than he deserves to be. Weak and in some pain, but he’s his old irrepressible self again. David and his wife are looking after him. I don’t think he’ll be in court tomorrow, he really isn’t up to that, but he said he’ll be thinking of you, and hopes you and Meggie can spare the time to see him before you fly back to London.’

‘We’ll make time,’ Laura beamed, suddenly aware that this was for real, she was getting out of here, thanks to Stuart. ‘He’s been my guardian angel.’

‘Then I’ll see you in court at ten tomorrow,’ Patrick said as he got up to leave. He took her hand and, in an uncharacteristic display of affection, squeezed it with both hands. ‘It’s the appeal I’m really waiting for. I want to see you exonerated and this awful business over once and for all. But tomorrow will be pretty good too.’

In a flash of intuition Laura suddenly understood the man better. He probably wasn’t cut out to be a criminal lawyer, and over the years he’d almost certainly had to defend a great many people he found repellent. He dealt with it by detaching himself, doing the job as well as he could, but without any passion.

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 dark hair was cut into a rather severe bob. She was a little plumper too, and her navy-blue trouser suit and sensible flat shoes made her look matronly. Laura wondered if the outfit, and the lack of makeup, was intended to make her look like a very responsible person, but as Meggie had always tended to be old for her years, she suspected that this image was now her usual one.

The judge said he would like to speak to Meggie and the court usher directed her to come forward to the bench.

‘Do you understand what bail conditions mean?’ he asked her. ‘That Mrs Brannigan must reside with you, and present herself once a week at your local police station? Bail will be set at the sum of five thousand pounds. If Mrs Brannigan does not adhere to these conditions or fails to appear at her next court hearing, you will be expected to forfeit that sum.’

‘I understand, Your Honour,’ Meggie replied.

‘Then you may take your sister home with you now,’ he said.

‘Is that it then?’ Laura said nervously once they’d come out of the courtroom into the vestibule. She’d been hovering on the verge of a panic attack throughout the proceedings; there were so many whispered consultations between the lawyers and she felt sure the judge was going to refuse her bail.

Goldsmith smiled at both the sisters. ‘Yes. That’s it, you can go. But as soon as you get to Catford make sure you present yourself at the police station and find out which day of the week they expect to see you. Don’t attempt to go out of the country either. I shall keep in touch and let you know any developments. Meanwhile, enjoy your freedom, you deserve it.’

‘Thank you,’ Laura said. It seemed so odd that Patrick was suddenly so much warmer to her. She actually believed he cared now. She looked nervously through the door on to the street. ‘Will there be press out there?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ he said, grimacing. ‘It isn’t any good trying to avoid them, they’ll only follow you. If you like I could make a statement for you. You just smile for the photographs.’

There were five or six photographers and as many journalists, one of whom Laura recognized as having visited her in prison just after the trial. There was also a cameraman, presumably from the local television station. As she and Meggie got to the High Court door with Goldsmith, they pressed forward, cameras flashing and shouting out questions.

Meggie caught hold of Laura’s arm tightly as she faltered. But Goldsmith took a step forward. ‘Mrs Brannigan would like me to make a statement to you for her, then I ask that you respect the ordeal she has been through and allow her some privacy and peace.

‘Mrs Brannigan has been granted bail pending her appeal. I have every confidence that her appeal will be successful now that the police are reinvestigating the murder of Jacqueline Davies. Mrs Brannigan has always maintained that she was innocent of the crime. It is our belief that this will soon be proved.’

‘Are you staying in Edinburgh, Laura?’ a female voice called out.

A man with red hair pushed his way to the front of the journalists. ‘Will you be visiting Stuart Macgregor? Is it true he was stabbed because he was doing some private investigation on your behalf?’ he asked.

‘That’s enough now,’ Goldsmith said firmly, and taking Laura’s arm, he drew her and Meggie through the crowd and away down the High Street.

‘You’ll be fine now,’ he said as they reached North Bridge. He looked behind him just to check none of the press had followed them. ‘But I’ll come further with you if you like.’

‘No, you go,’ Laura said. ‘We don’t need an escort, and I’m sure you’ve got plenty of other clients that need you.’

‘What’s it to be first?’ Meggie asked as they walked down towards the bridge. ‘A big fried breakfast, a burger, or maybe some alcohol?’

Laura laughed. ‘None of those. What I’d really like is a cappuccino, just to sit and drink it and watch people for a while, and of course to catch up with what you’ve been doing.’

‘Laura, wait up!’

At the shout from behind they turned their heads to see a tall, slender woman with long blonde hair trying to run towards them, hampered not only by high heels but by a wheeled suitcase she was pulling behind her. As she got nearer Laura recognized her as Angie.

‘Thank goodness I caught you,’ she said breathlessly as she reached them. ‘I got to the court too late, I could just see you in the distance, so I ran all the way.’