Thursday 11 October, 5.30 p.m.
Chi and Jubilee had met for an early evening drink which was planned to stretch into late evening. Two ciders in, Jubilee started to tell her new friend her secret. Chi knew that Jubilee planned someday to return to a Jamaica she’d never actually seen, but she’d discarded it as a pipe dream. What she hadn’t ever understood was how on earth her friend, practically on minimum wage, was going to raise the fare.
And then Jubilee let her into her secret.
Chi had listened and then she had listened hard while Jubilee tried to persuade her.
Chi stared at her and Jubilee put a hand on her arm. ‘Just think,’ she said, ‘it’s dark and it’s cold in this country and for the next five months it is going to get darker and colder. But out there …’ She half closed her eyes and held her hand up, palm towards the sky, fingers spread, peeping through them as though to block out the sun. ‘Out there,’ she said, ‘it’s sunny all the time. We can get a job in a beach bar.’ She laughed, mouth wide open, showing teeth dazzling white against her skin the colour of milk chocolate. ‘Drink rum all the time. And the boys.’ She whistled. ‘They are just gorgeous. Quite beautiful. Stripped to the waist.’ She nudged her friend. ‘Rippling with muscles.’
They both giggled – Chi almost coyly.
‘And you’d really split the money fifty-fifty?’
Jubilee nodded. ‘I promise,’ she said.
They stubbed out their cigarettes, clasped hands solemnly and headed back to the bar. This called for a celebratory drink.
But Chi couldn’t quite believe her luck and checked again. ‘You’re sure?’
Jubilee nodded.
And then Chi realized why this generous offer.
Working in the restaurant she met people. Lots of people. All sorts of people. Sometimes she and Jubilee giggled over the snooty ones or the ones who argued about the bill. The ones who had a tipple too many or spilt their wine. The smart clothes some of them wore, the stories some of them told, the old ones who wore too much make-up, their skirts too short exposing knobbly knees, fashions twenty years out of date, the badly behaved children and couples who stormed out after a very public and noisy row, the times they’d had to call the police as violence had broken out, the time someone had thrown a brick at the window. The glass had not shattered but a large crack had appeared and Rosemary told her that her insurance had doubled. The stories Chi related to Jubilee often made them laugh as they swigged their cider straight from the flagon. It made for entertaining conversation and was a welcome change from the subject of Kath Whalley.
There was one story, Chi realized now, which had given Jubilee the idea.
Her name was Diana …
Chi could remember the conversation almost verbatim a month or so ago.
‘Sixty if she was a day.’
Jubilee had laughed, put her hand over her mouth as Chi had described the customer. ‘Wearing a really tight leather skirt and a low-cut silver top. And so much jewellery she almost needed Securicor.’
They had both laughed at this, but Jubilee had stopped first. ‘This woman,’ she said. ‘You got to chat to her? Who is she? She sounds rich.’
Chi had made bits up then. ‘She is rich. She’s an antiques dealer.’
And for some reason Jubilee’s mouth had clamped shut.
It was only now that Chi was realizing the significance of that encounter and the consequence of relating it to her new-found friend.
So now as Jubilee told her little story, Chi was not only listening – she was understanding too. She would have her part to play. And that would earn her fifty per cent.
She drew in a long, deep breath. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’
Jubilee nodded, black eyes sparkling. ‘Up to you, Chi.’ She paused, watching her friend, trying to gauge her reaction. ‘You don’t have to come in on it if you don’t want to. I can do it all without you. But if you want to hitch a ride with me straight off to Spanish Town, Jamaica, far away, you are very welcome. We can easily get work in a bar over there – right on the beach – maybe even open one of our own with the money. What do you say?’
Chi foresaw all sorts of problems ahead. A veritable obstacle course of problems. But the prize was huge – escape from Kath, who wouldn’t have a clue where she was. And even if she sent her a postcard, Kath was never going to find her way to Spanish Town, Jamaica. More likely back to HMP Foston Hall.
She tried to find the weak spot in Jubilee’s plan. ‘You’ve never even been to Jamaica. You might not like it.’ She corrected this to, ‘We might not like it.’
Jubilee had put her hand on her arm. ‘My father tells me all the time what it is like over there. He tells me it is Paradise. You think he would lie?’
Chi frowned. ‘Why did he leave then?’
That earned a very hostile look from her new friend. Chi regarded her back, trying to discern Jubilee’s true character. Was she another Kath? Was she about to jump from the frying pan straight into the fire?
But then Jubilee gave one of her mouth-wide-open belly-laughs and Chi was reassured. They clasped hands but she wasn’t so sure about their destination. The stories she’d heard from Jamaica had been more about organized crime (out of the frying pan?). Yardies. Guns.
As though reading her doubt, Jubilee spoke. ‘Not Spanish Town,’ she said once she’d stopped laughing. ‘It’s not violent there. That’s Kingston.’
But now the doubt had surfaced, Chi tried to retreat. ‘I need to think about it.’
And there was always the possibility that Jubilee’s plan wouldn’t work, that her facts were wrong.
But she looked out of the window at the dark and deserted streets of Leek, saw a vision (nightmare) of Kath’s face, her pig-nose squashed flat against the glass, watching her with that suspicious look that could so easily and with only the slightest provocation translate into a beating. They might be ‘friends’, but it was Kath’s version of friendship, which consisted of her going along with her plans – whatever they were. If Kath got a sniff that she was planning to run (Fly), she would be lucky to escape with her life. Chi sat rigid, suddenly miserable, as she foresaw another immediate future, one that included no sun. More like plastic surgery, if not an undertaker. There were only three ways life with Kath was going to end up. Maimed, dead, or in prison.
And she feared all three alternatives. Prison would surround her with people like Kath. Suddenly the thirst for a different life made her reckless, the lust for Jubilee’s version of an island in the sun almost making her dizzy. It was a risk but only a small one. If she was going to disappear she needed money. Not just the wages and tips from Rosemary’s. This chance was being offered her on a plate. If she didn’t grab it with both hands, it would slip away and that would be that.
So, mind made up, she looked at her new friend who was sitting very still, hands folded together as though in mute prayer. Waiting for her decision.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’m in.’ Which meant she needed to do some groundwork.