That’s never going to happen, so it’s a moot point. But I’ll sign anyway. Picking up the pen from his desk, I etch my name on the dotted line at the bottom and then hand it back to him.
He slots it in my file and rests his arms on top of it, his hands clasped together. “Have you put any thought into what you want to do now that you’ve been released?”
“Get a job. Get my brother back.”
His eyes dim a little at that, and it’s like rocks are dropping in my stomach.
“Daisy,” he breathes out. “I read through your case file extensively, so I am familiar with your family circumstances. And I know your desire to get custody of your brother…but please take into note that it will be a lengthy process. You will have to prove to social services that you have your life back in order. A life that can accommodate your brother. That you can offer him stability.”
“I gave him all of that before.” My voice is toneless.
“And then you broke the law. You stole from your employer. An employer you had worked for, for four years. Those people trusted you. You have to show me and social services that you can be trusted again.”
I can’t explain how hard it is to know that you didn’t do what everyone believes you did and watch them judge your character based on that. Watch them control your life, take away your family. It’s painful and frustrating and heartbreaking.
Curling my fingers into my palm, I press my nails into my soft skin, letting the bite of pain keep my emotions in check.
So, instead of saying everything I want to say—the truth—I hold those words in and say what he wants to hear, “I can do that. I can be trusted again. All I want is to get Jesse back, and I will do whatever is necessary to prove that I’m worthy to have him back with me.”
That seems to appease him, and he smiles. “Good. Well, the first thing we can start with, now knowing that you have a stable home to live in, is employment. I have a job lined up for you.”
“You do?” My brows lift in surprise.
“Yes. We run schemes with employers who are willing to take on people who have recently been released from prison.” He stares at his screen, reading from it. “The position is working as a maid. The owners have a livery and stable business on their estate. You wouldn’t be expected to be involved in any of that. Just cleaning duties within the main house itself. The hours are eight thirty until six with an hour lunch break. Pay is seven pounds an hour.”
I quickly try to do the math in my head.
About sixty pounds a day. Just short of three hundred pounds a week. I can pay Cece rent and contribute toward bills.
This is going to be my new start. I have a good feeling about this.
“That sounds great. Thank you so much.” Honestly, I’d shovel horseshit if it meant I could earn money and be one step closer to getting Jesse back. “When do I start?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I didn’t expect it to be so soon. Not that I’m complaining,” I’m quick to add.
“Here, we think it’s good to get people back into work as quickly as possible, Daisy. Get them into a solid, stable routine. A mind left to sit is a mind likely to wander.”
Nodding, I agree with him.
He smiles again. “Good. Well, the job is in Westcott, in Surrey, at the Matis Estate. You need to ask for Mr. Matis when you arrive. And assuming you don’t have a car”—I shake my head in response—“you can get a train there, no problem.”
Shit, train fare expenses. I’ll have to factor that in. I can get a railcard and make it a bit cheaper. Or better still, I can look into the buses, see if one goes from Sutton to Westcott.
“You will be paid weekly, so your first payment will be at the end of this week,” Toby says. “How are you fixed financially?”
I swallow down, lowering my gaze, my face reddening with shame. “I, um…have twenty pounds to my name.”
I feel embarrassed to admit this. I know he’s probably heard this a thousand times before, but it doesn’t make it any easier to say.
“How are you fixed for clothes?”
“Um…I have my old clothes.” I lift my eyes to him. “My friend, Cece, who I’m going to live with, boxed up all my stuff and kept it in storage for me while I was inside.”
“She sounds like a good friend.”
“She is.” I smile.
“Well, you are going to need money to get you to and from your job and also for food for this first week, so I’ll grant you a small loan to get you through this week.”
“That would be great. Thank you so much.”
My gratitude is real here.
I mean, I hate taking charity from people, but he said this would be a loan, which means I’ll have to pay it back. That, I can live with. It means my savings plan might have to wait a short while, but that’s just the way it is.
“Right, well, I’ll arrange that for you now. So, aside from that, we’re done here.” He presses his hands to the desk. “I’ll need to see you once a week for the next four weeks. I’ll arrange with your employer for you to leave early on that day, so you don’t need to worry about that. Then, after that, I’ll need to see you once a fortnight for the second and third month from your release. And, as long as everything is satisfactory and going well, then we’ll go down to once a month. I will come do a visit at your home in around ten days. Actually, we’ll pencil that in while you’re here.” He turns back to his computer, tapping on the keys. “Okay…as you’ll be working and I don’t want to keep taking you away from your job, how does a week from Saturday sound? The morning?”
“I can do that.” I smile.
“Good.” He taps the keys again and then turns to face me. “Right, let’s get this loan sorted for you.”
Three
Cece turns the car down into a cul-de-sac. At the end of it is an apartment building.
“Here we are.” Cece pulls into an allotted parking space and turns the engine off.
Through the windscreen, I glance up at the four-story-high apartment building. It looks really nice. More than I could have hoped for.
Just as we exit the car, the heavens open, so we dash for the building.
Cece opens the main door with a key. “If we have visitors, they have to be buzzed in,” she tells me.
I like that. It’s safe.
We take the stairs up to the second floor where our apartment is.
Cece unlocks the door, letting me inside first.
The first thing I see is the Welcome Home banner hanging from the ceiling in the hallway. I turn, smiling.
“Welcome home!” she says, throwing her hands skyward.
“You’re a total geek.” I laugh.
I walk down the hallway, toward the first door, and find myself in the living room. I take in the beige-painted walls and the furnishings. A big brown leather sofa with fluffy cushions and a matching chair. Glass coffee table. Flat screen TV sitting on a maple oak cabinet.
Turning, I see Cece standing in the doorway.
“It’s amazing, Ce. Did you do all of this?”
She comes over and sits on the arm of the chair. “My dad did the decorating, and Mum helped me pick out the sofa, but the rest was me.”
“How long have you been here?” I run my hand along the soft leather of the sofa.
“I moved in a month ago. It gave me time to get it nice for you and Jesse.”
Jesse.
The reminder that he’s not here with us slices through me.
I know the pain shows on my face because Cece comes over and puts her arm around my shoulders. “Come on, let’s go see your bedroom.”
I follow her out of the living room and down the hallway.
“Bathroom’s there.” She points to a closed door. “And the kitchen’s through here.”
I poke my head through the open door to find a modest-sized kitchen with white gloss cabinets and a small white breakfast table with four black leather chairs.
“Nice,” I say.
/> “Only the best for us,” she informs me. “And this one is your room.”
I follow Cece into a medium-sized bedroom, complete with a double bed, pale pink duvet cover, nightstand, wardrobe, white walls, and a dressing table in the corner.
“I didn’t do much to it. Thought you’d want to put your own stamp on it.”
“It’s perfect,” I say.
That’s when I spy a gift box sitting on the nightstand. I walk over and pick it up. I turn back to Cece.
“It’s your welcome-home present. It’s not much.”
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I pull the lid off the gift box. Inside is a mobile phone.
I lift my eyes to hers. “You didn’t have to…”
She sits on the bed beside me. “You need a phone, so you can ring Jesse. It’s only a prepaid. I put some credit on it for you—”
“Cece…it’s too much. The apartment…the phone.”
“Bullshit.” The harsh tone in her voice brings my eyes to hers. “It’s the least I can do. You’ve had the worst time, and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do to help you. The apartment and the phone, I can do, so let me do them.”
My eyes water. I bite my lip and give her a silent nod.
“Good.” She gets to her feet and crosses the room. “I brought all your things from storage. Your clothes and shoes are in here.” She taps the wardrobe that she’s standing beside. “The other stuff, I wasn’t sure what to do with, so I left it boxed. It’s in here, up on the shelf.”
“Thank you.”
“Stop thanking me.” She gives me a soft smile. “Now, do you wanna order in, or I can cook?”
“Pancakes?”
Cece makes the best pancakes ever.
Her smile widens. “Pancakes, it is.”
Stuffed from the mound of pancakes that Cece made for me, I head to bed early. My body clock is still on prison time. It will be for a while, I imagine.
But, now that I’m in bed, I can’t sleep. My eyes are wide open, and I’m staring at the shadows on the ceiling.
I keep expecting to hear the clanging of turning locks and the endless sounds of crying and wailing that echoed throughout the prison at night.
I turn the lamp on and sit on the edge of my bed. Pushing to my feet, I walk over to the wardrobe, open the door, and stare at my clothes hanging in there.
Cece washed and ironed them, and then she hung them up, all ready for me.
Honestly, I couldn’t have wished for a better friend.
I reach up and get one of the boxes down from the shelf.
I sit on the carpeted floor. Legs crossed, I open the box.
Sitting on top of the stuff is my old iPod. I try to turn it on, but it’s dead. I search through the box and find the charger. I go over and plug it in, charging it so that I can use it tomorrow.
I go and sit back down at the box.
There’s a picture frame, upturned. I know which picture it is. The one of me and Jesse that used to sit on the mantel at our old apartment. It was taken when I was sixteen and Jesse was six. It wasn’t long after Mum left.
Picking it up, I turn it over and stare at it.
Cece and I took Jesse out for the day to Brighton. We took the train there. We were so lucky with the weather, as it was glorious that day. We spent most of the day on the beach, eating the picnic we’d packed and messing around in the water. It was a great day.
Just as we were heading back to get our train home, Cece stopped us at the railing that overlooked the beach and took the picture.
My arm is around Jesse, as he’s tucked into my side. We’re smiling. The beach, sea, and sky are in the backdrop.
We look happy.
We were happy.
“I’ll fix this, Jesse,” I whisper to the photo. “I’ll get you back home, I promise.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until a tear drips onto the glass of the frame.
Drying my face with my hand, I get to my feet. Taking the frame with me, I climb back into bed and hold the picture tight to my chest.
Four
I wake early, my body still set to the prison clock. It takes me a moment to remember that I’m no longer there, trapped in that prison cell. I’m safe in my own room, in my new home.
I’m free.
For a few moments, I let that soak in.
I can eat breakfast when I want. Shower when I want. Shower alone, without twenty other women there.
Relief fills me.
I turn over in bed, and something digs in my side.
I realize it’s the picture of Jesse and me. I fell asleep holding it.
Picking it up, I look at it one last time before putting it up on my nightstand.
I push the covers back and get out of bed, loving the feel of the carpet beneath my feet instead of the cold concrete that used to be waiting for me every morning while in prison.
Closing my eyes, I dig my toes into the fibers.
Heaven.
I might be feeling good right now, but a restless energy is starting to burn inside me.
I need to exercise. My body is used to it now from all the hours spent in the prison gym.
I could go for a run. It’s hours before I have to be at my new job.
Decision made, I push to my feet and grab my old running shorts, tank top, and trainers from the wardrobe. I get my old iPod and earphones. Putting the earphones in, I put the iPod in the pocket of the shorts.
I let myself out of my silent apartment and out of the building. The air is cool and crisp. The street is quiet.
I push my key into my pocket and get my music going. The sound of Christina Aguilera’s “Fighter” fills my ears.
Ready to burn off this unspent energy, I take off, starting in a slow jog, onto the main street. Then, I quickly pick up pace. I make note of where I’m going and the street names, not knowing this area very well. I don’t want to get lost and be late to work on my first day.
The freedom to run outside doesn’t go unnoticed by me. I relish the feel of the cold breeze whipping on my face and at my legs. I take in the sight of people setting off for work early.
I’m back in the real world. And it feels good. Damn good.
I run for an hour, feeling like I could run for another, but I need to get back to have breakfast and get ready for work.
When I let myself in the apartment, I hear the TV on in the kitchen.
Cece must be up.
“Hey.” I smile, seeing her sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee.
She smiles. “Coffee’s in the pot,” she tells me.
I grab a glass first and fill it with cold water from the tap before downing it.
“You go for a run?” Cece asks, eyeing my trainers.
Nodding, I lean back against the counter.
“The Daisy I knew would have broken out in a rash at the thought of going for a run.” She gives a cheeky grin.
“The old Daisy is gone,” I tell her, putting down the glass. I turn and get a cup from the cupboard. I pour myself a coffee before adding milk to it that I got from the fridge.
“I kinda liked the old Daisy,” Cece says softly.
I take a seat across from her. “The old Daisy was weak and gullible.” My tone is harsher than I meant it to be.
Cece’s eyes darken. “You were never weak or gullible. You’re the smartest, strongest, bravest person I’ve ever known.”
I let out a sharp laugh before I take a sip of my coffee. “I was never smart, Ce. If I had been, then I wouldn’t have fallen for Jason’s bullshit.”
“I hate what that bastard has done to you.”
“Did. And it’ll never happen again.”
“’Cause you’re Lara Croft now?”
Cece grins, and I can’t help but smile.
“No,” I say, forcing the smile from my face. “Because I learned my lesson. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
“And the running?”
“It makes me feel better. Exercise is
n’t a bad thing; it’s actually a good thing, you know.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” She grimaces.
Laughing, I shake my head at her.
After having some breakfast, I head off to take a shower and get ready for my new job.
After I’m finished showering, Ce jumps in after me.
I go back to my room where I blow-dry my long hair and fasten it up into a makeshift bun. I grab the makeup that Cece bought for me. I apply eyeliner and mascara on my eyes and a little gloss on my lips.
I put on my old white bra and knickers along with the black trousers and white shirt that I used to wear for work at the jewelry store. The trousers hang off me, and the shirt is loose.
Even though Cece washed all my clothes for me after getting them out of storage, wearing them now feels wrong. They’re from my old life. A life I no longer have.
As soon as I can afford it, I’ll buy some new clothes.
I stand and look at myself in the mirror.
I look exactly like I used to before all of this happened, except thinner and older.
I definitely look older.
Sadness overwhelms me, and I want to cry, but I refuse to.
I’ve cried enough to last me a lifetime. No more.
I focus on the now. New job. Get Jesse back.
Sucking it up, I grab my bag and put my iPod in it. Then, I let myself out of my room.
I pop my head round Cece’s half-opened door. “I’m off to work.”
God, it feels good to say that.
Even if I am only a glorified cleaner, I don’t care.
I have a job.
Cece is sitting at her dressing table, applying makeup, with a bath towel wrapped around her. “You look nice.” She smiles at me in the mirror before turning to face me.
“I look like crap,” I tell her, grinning.
“Shut up,” she chastises. “You’re gonna knock ’em dead at your new job.”
“I don’t want to kill them. I just got out of prison. I’m not looking to go back.”
“Funny.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Isn’t it early to be setting off? I thought you started at half past eight.”
“I do, but it’s a fifteen-minute walk to the train station, forty-five minutes on the train, and according to Toby’s instructions, a twenty-minute walk from the station to the Matis Estate.”