Free She's Out by Lynda La Plante Page B

blonde hair, similar to Mike’s sister Shirley. She was almost as pretty. Both their sons had already
been put to bed and she’d half-hoped they could have an evening together.
    ‘Is your mum still planning to go to Spain?’
    Mike nodded, his mouth full. ‘Yeah, that’s why I said I’d drop in, see if she needed me to do anything.’
    ‘Funny time to go, isn’t it, winter?’
    Mike shrugged, forking in another mouthful. ‘Got some friend there with a villa, be good for her, she needs to get away.’
    ‘Don’t we all. It’s been ages since we had a holiday – be nice to get away.’
    ‘We will,’ he said, eyes to the clock, wondering if they’d found the diamonds.
    Susan watched him: he’d been very distracted of late, moody and snapping at the kids. ‘Everything all right at work, is it?’
    ‘Yep.’ He pushed the plate aside, only half finished, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. ‘I’ll shove off. Sooner I see her, sooner I’ll be home.’
    She picked up her knife and fork and he reached over and kissed her forehead.
    ‘There’s nobody else, is there, Mike?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘It’s just I hardly have time to talk to you, you’re always out, and most weekends you’ve been on duty. If there is somebody else . . .’
    He sat down again. ‘There isn’t anyone else, Sue, okay? It’s been a bit heavy lately, I’ve got a lot on and—’
    ‘Yes?’
    Well, it’s to do with Shirley. The woman Mum blames for her being killed, Dolly Rawlins, got released today, so Mum’s been a bit hysterical, you know the way she always harps on
about it.’
    ‘Well, you can’t blame her. If one of our boys was killed I’d feel the same.’
    ‘I won’t be long, I promise, okay?’
    Mike left and Susan carried on eating but she wasn’t hungry. She was sure Mike was seeing someone else – she’d even searched his suit pockets, looking for evidence. She
hadn’t found anything but, then, he was a detective so he wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave anything incriminating. But he
was
different – colder and impatient towards her
and the boys. She told herself to stop it: it was just as he said, overwork, he was tired and she was reading more into his moods than she should. She swiped at the table, muttering to herself.
What about
her
moods? Nobody ever seemed concerned about her or the way she felt.
    Ester cocked her head to one side, sprayed lacquer over Dolly’s hair and stepped back. ‘That’s much nicer, softer round your face with a bit of a wave. So, we
all set to go down?’ Dolly stood up and admired herself in the wardrobe mirror. ‘This is a lovely frock.’
    Ester opened the bedroom door. ‘It was a lovely price a few years back, Dolly. Come on, they’re all starving down there.’
    They walked down the stairs together, Angela waiting at the bottom.
    ‘No men invited, then?’ Dolly asked.
    Ester laughed. ‘Well, we could always get the chauffeur back.’
    ‘Couldn’t you get the Chippendales? They’re all the rage in the nick – girls have got their posters on the walls. Good-looking lads, they dance for women.’
    ‘I know who they are, Dolly, but they’re a bit passé now. That’s always the problem in the nick. Years behind what’s going down.’
    Angela opened the dining-room doors wider and Ester stepped back to allow Dolly to walk in ahead of her.
    The women all rose to their feet and began to sing. ‘Good luck, God bless you . . .’
    The banks of candles, their dresses and the beautifully laid table made Dolly gasp: it seemed almost magical. The room with its carved ornate ceiling, the huge stone fireplace with a log-fire
blazing, the women all lifting their glasses in a toast.
    ‘To Dolly Rawlins. She’s out.’
    Dolly slowly moved from one woman to the next. Like a princess, she touched their shoulders or kissed their cheeks.
    Ester drew out the carved chair at the head of the table. ‘Sit down, Dolly. This is your night, one we won’t let you forget.’
    Dolly