‘I’m afraid not. He hadn’t read it, last I heard, but I did text him this morning to say that he really should.’
‘If he finds out about my payments to Georgie and all our plans, I’ll tell him everything about you. I’ll send it all to theMail. They’ll pull you to pieces.’
‘I realized that I’ve been hiding my background for so long because I’ve been ashamed of it, but there’s no shame in being from a broken home, getting in trouble with the police when I was young, or marrying an abusive man. The papers seem to like that version of me, so I’ve already told them everything. It seems that they see me as the heroine of this story, and that means they’ll be looking for a villain. Now, where shall I direct them, do you think?’
Chapter83Letter
Wednesday, 29 January
Dear Lalla,
I hope you and the children are all doing well. It’s difficult back in prison, especially being away from the girls, but I can’t tell you the reception I’m getting in here. God, when I think about returning to Muswell Hill and all those entitled women jumping on the bandwagon, compared to the ecstatic cheers I got arriving back here! They call me ‘Cait Two-Time’ now because they think I’ve killed two abusive men.
This time, I actually did kill someone, but I only stopped that bastard throwing you to your death. Fucking men! All the police and social workers keep asking me is whether I regret it. I have to say I do, but I don’t. I enjoyed pushing him in the river. It was incredibly cathartic after everything with Owen. It was such a bloody rush.
Thank you for explaining on the phone about Hollis and your secretive past. I can’t believe you kept all that hidden for so long, but I understand why you would want to hide from such a brute. It was a bit odd that you didn’trecognize him at the rifle range, but I suppose with his wheelchair, flat cap and beard, he must’ve looked so different.
Oh, and I got two marriage proposals today. Both from serial killers, but still, a proposal is a proposal. The best news is that I’ve got a newspaper that wants to tell my story and there’s even a publisher interested. They say that if I set up a trust fund for the girls, I could get a big lump of cash just by telling people how I fought back against abuse. I’d have to tell the prosecution’s version of how I killed Owen as there’s much less money in it if I tell my version, but it might do some good if I inspire women to feel that they can fight back, albeit not with petrol and knives.
Mum brought the girls today. No point hiding any more, I’m a hardened criminal. Everyone was lovely to them in the visitor centre. Mum’s going to get them ice cream on the way back too. I feel more in control of my life than I ever have before.
And it’s all down to you, Lalla. You helped me turn off the fears and anxieties in my head. Showed me how to be the kind of woman I want to be, and I’m free now. I want to kill more abusive men. I really do. We should set up a club! There’s some girls in here who’d definitely join.
Oh, and I’ve met someone. People go on about prison being the worst, but I love it. It’s got everything you could ever want.
Love to Sophie and Aisha, too – please come visit me anytime.
Two-Time xxx
While Cait is communicating well, Tor is not answering her phone, WhatsApp, or email. I am keen to know what happened in the Adams exam. I really hope that Nelly didn’t lie to me. I go to Tor’s Instagram account and find a post with a photograph of a triumphant Hero holding her offer letter above her head. She’s also wearing a tiara.
I call Sophie and ask how Ellie got on. She says that Ellie is almost weeing herself with excitement but she doesn’t get post until the afternoon. I decide I need answers so I head across to Hampstead and make my way directly to Adams Prep, with Nelly’s failure on my mind and Tor’s gloating in my ear.
I stand at the beautiful reception desk and ask to see the head. I am asked what it’s about, and I tell her that there’s been an error in the offer letter. I’m asked to sit. The waiting room is like a gentleman’s club with trophies adorning the walls and shelves. I don’t have to wait for long before a tall, glamorous woman seats herself opposite me and asks how she can help.
‘My daughter, Nelly Rook, she’s not been offered a place, and I think there’s probably been an administrative error.’
‘Mrs Rook, thank you for coming in. I’ve had a look, and I know how sensitive an issue this is, but unfortunately the data seems to be correct. It’s been the most competitive season we’ve ever seen, and you and Nelly mustn’t see this as any judgement on her abilities.’
‘She didn’t get in? You’re sure?’
‘I’m afraid to say that she just missed out.’
‘I think there must be some mistake.’
‘No, I’m afraid not, but it is most upsetting when children set their sights on something important to them.’
‘No, Mrs Whellam,’ I say, reading her badge. ‘I think this is a genuine slip-up. The headmistress assured me that Nelly would get a place. I want to see the head.’
‘Mrs Pembury’s not here today.’
‘But she must have said something about Nelly. We had an understanding.’
‘Sadly not,’ says Mrs Whellam with an artificial smile. ‘I know that parents can sometimes misinterpret meetings with the head.’
‘I didn’t misinterpret,’ I say, and grab her arm.
‘I wish Nelly all the best,’ she says, and yanks her arm from my grip.
