Blood Sisters: Part 2 of 3: Can a pledge made for life endure beyond death?

Like he was remembering. Remembering her unclothed. He didn’t need to say it. ‘It’s only been a fortnight, babes,’ she said. ‘How much was I going to change?’

He squeezed her hands, sliding his thumbs back and forth over her palms. ‘I’m just so glad you didn’t plaster your face like the rest of the slappers that come in here. Bunch of tarts. Fuck me,’ he added, leaning in towards her, ‘I’ve missed you.’

Relaxing now, she smiled at him. ‘How are you coping, babe? I miss you too.’ And as he squeezed her hands again, so gently, she almost told him, but he spoke first, glancing from side to side, as if he was a spy or something.

‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘But I tell you what, babes, I’ve had time to do some serious thinking. And I’ve worked it out. It’s all down to that fucking Jimmy Daley.’

‘What is?’

‘Don’t be dense, babe. The reason I’m fucking in here. How else would his dad have known? I’ve worked it all out, babe, like I said. He’s got someone on my case. And he grassed me up to his dad. It had to be him. Who else could it have been?’

Vicky knew she wouldn’t have been the only thing on Paddy’s mind. But even so, his insistent tone made her anxious. ‘But how would Jimmy have known?’

She wasn’t about to say so, but she knew Paddy had lied to her about that evening. And Gurdy too, albeit to protect her. She hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, but she had proof that he’d lied about the video recorders, because she’d since found out that he’d pleaded guilty to some of the car-related charges. Why would he do that if he could prove that he hadn’t even been there?

‘Because fucking Gurdy knew!’ Paddy said. ‘Or at least he had half an idea, the little Paki fucker.’

‘Gurdy? Grass you up? He’d never do that, babe, never.’

Paddy let go her hands, leaned back, and then leaned in again. ‘He must have. I can’t think of any other explanation, can you?’

‘But he’s your friend—’

‘And his too. They’re both up each other’s fucking arses, aren’t they?’

‘No they’re not. Paddy, Gurdy is your friend,’ Vicky insisted. ‘He wouldn’t say anything, especially not to Jimmy. He knows how the two of you are. Honestly, babe,’ she added, hating that she had come all this way – all this fucking way – and having to sit here and to defend bloody Gurdy. She still had to though. ‘Babes, he just wouldn’t.’

All the warmth seemed to drain out of Paddy’s face. ‘Why’d you do that?’ he asked her.

‘Do what?’ she said,

‘Do that.’ He waved a hand languidly in her direction. ‘Go against me.’

‘I’m not going against you. I’m just saying—’

‘Where’s your fucking loyalty? Seriously, Vic. I mean, shouldn’t you be on my side in this?’

‘It’s not a question of sides, Paddy,’ she told him, feeling her hackles rise despite herself. ‘I just think – no, I know – you are barking up the wrong tree. Gurdy adores you—’

‘Yeah, but you don’t.’

‘Babes, you know I do—’ She snaked a hand across the table. He withdrew his. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that the nearest guard was watching.

Paddy pouted now, and she knew he was tempering his response for their benefit. He stretched his hand out, then his other. She enveloped both, feeling ridiculously as if they were about to play that school game, where you kept pulling out the bottom hand and slapping it down on top.

‘Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it,’ he said mildly. ‘You think all your mates are such fucking goody two-shoes, don’t you? But I’m telling you now, Vic,’ he added, in the same incongruously mild tone of voice. ‘None of them, none of them, can be trusted, you hear me?’

A different prison guard stopped by their table, making Vicky start. ‘We’re not having any problems here, are we?’ he said softly. ‘Only, you are looking a little bit agitated, Mr Allen, and we can stop a visit if it proves to aggravate a man.’ He turned to look at Vicky. ‘Hmm?’

She smiled at the officer. ‘Everything’s fine here, thank you,’ she said politely. ‘So,’ she added, turning back to Paddy, ‘shall I get us some cake?’

The taxis were lined up and waiting when Vicky emerged. Plenty for everyone who wanted one. A bumper profit day. And she was lucky to get a bus almost immediately once back in Leeds, for the hour or so’s trip back to Bradford Interchange.

It had got better. A little better. He had calmed himself down. They’d eaten cake – something with poppy seeds that lodged in her teeth – about which they’d laughed, and which he’d tenderly got rid of. She’d hang on to that. The words he’d mouthed as he’d touched his nail to her tooth. The way he’d slipped it along her gum, mouthing things that made her blush. The way he’d told her how he physically ached for her.

Yes, she’d hang on to that. Not the stuff about her not going out. Not the stuff about how there were people on the inside who knew all about what happened on the outside. Not the stuff about how it would be best if she didn’t hang around with Lucy – with any of them – not till he was out and he could look after her properly.

‘I can look after myself,’ she’d told him, chin up, defiant.

‘You think you can, babe,’ he’d said, ‘but, trust me, you can’t.’

No, she’d definitely stop trying to figure out what he’d meant. Just hang on to those last words. That he physically ached for her. And loved her. He’d been sure to tell her that.

And as they’d hugged, it had occurred to her that his protective streak was a good thing. He would surely feel the same about his baby.

Chapter 13 (#ufa6f54e1-63cc-5f14-88b0-b326c4e7698a)

‘So you haven’t told him anything?’

Vicky’s tone was incredulous. Lucy shook her head, feeling irritable and tearful all of a sudden. And all of a sudden wishing she had stuck to her guns and told Vic she’d prefer to get her results alone. It would be almost comical if it wasn’t so awful. Sitting here, in the waiting area of the packed gynae clinic only a week after sitting in the ante-natal one with her friend. Just a corridor and a whole world away.

‘No, of course not,’ she said now, feeling guilty for sounding snappy. ‘There’s nothing to tell him yet, is there?’

‘No, but … you know. About your periods and that …’

‘No, Vic. I haven’t.’

‘Alright, mate,’ Vicky said, putting an arm around her shoulder. Which act of tenderness – almost maternal tenderness – just made it worse.

Lucy had never been one for horoscopes or fate or other such spiritual nonsense. There was a girl at the solicitors – an articled clerk, so no doubt pretty clever – who read her stars in the paper daily, and, since she’d begun there, Lucy’s too. And Lucy (wondering how someone who had letters after her name could take any notice of such nonsense) would smile politely and agree that it would be nice to ‘come into some money’, or ‘see a welcome shift in a special relationship’, or whatever other guff was in the paper that day. And yet this morning – she’d taken the afternoon off for her appointment – astrology had warned her to be ‘braced for bad news’.

‘Though your natural Sagittarian optimism will help you overcome any obstacles,’ Marie had continued brightly, before dumping the paper and returning to her work.

Lucy had picked it up and re-read it, trying to see it for the rubbish it was. And yet, was it?

It had been such a strange and disconcerting few weeks. Vicky pregnant. Vicky pregnant. Vicky going to have a baby. As her mam had commented when she’d told her the astonishing news, it seemed only yesterday that the pair of them were babies themselves. ‘Running round the garden in your pants and vests,’ her mam had finished. She’d sighed then. ‘Where did all those years go?’

And it did feel exactly like that, despite everything. Despite the fact that they’d both been with their boyfriends for ages. Despite the fact that they’d both been having sex. God, was it really so astonishing that Vic should fall pregnant? That was the way nature had designed humans, wasn’t it? To have sex and make babies while they were young and fit and fertile. Well, at least in Vicky’s case, anyway.

‘I’m so jealous,’ Vic had wailed to her when she explained about the GP having put her on the pill.

‘You know, Vic,’ Lucy had said, feeling chippy about it all. ‘There’s nothing stopping you from going to the family planning clinic, you know.’

‘Er, how about my mam?’

‘Vic, you’re sixteen. She doesn’t even need to know.’

‘Yeah, but you think I’d manage to keep it from her? Not a chance, mate. She’s like bloody Sherlock!’