“Have you…” I bite my lip. “Have you seen Jesse recently?”
She exhales, and I know the answer. “I went to see him yesterday.”
Jesse has been living in a group home since I was put in prison.
I know what those places are like. I’ve been worried sick about him every moment I’ve been away from him, praying to God to keep him safe until I could get back to him.
Cece promised to check in on him regularly, and she’s kept me updated on his progress.
“How is he?”
“He’s doing okay.”
“Did you…” I swallow past the ache. I know full well the answer to my question, yet I have to ask it anyway. “He knew I was getting out today?”
“Yeah.” Her voice is quieter now. “He’s just confused at the moment, Mayday. But he’ll come around. He loves you.”
My eyes lower. “I let him down.”
“No, you didn’t.” The force in her tone brings my stare to her. “You met and trusted a guy you thought was nice, but he turned out to be the biggest fucker in the history of all fuckers. It was not your fault. I swear, if I ever get my hands on that bastard, I’m gonna rip his balls clear off, douse them in petrol, set them on fire, and make him watch them burn.”
“That’s quite the visual.”
“Thank you. I do paint a good picture.” She grins at me. “And I’ll feel awesome after I sort out that stain on society.”
“I just want to forget he ever existed. My sole focus is on getting Jesse back.”
She reaches over and takes my hand in hers, squeezing. “You’re gonna get him back. I have no doubt. All the good stuff starts right now.”
The tears that I was holding back win the battle, and one escapes.
“Don’t you bloody cry, Daisy May, or you’ll have me crying, and I’m not wearing waterproof mascara. So, what do you say about the apartment?”
I brush the tear away with the back of my hand. “I say it’s awesome, but—”
“No
buts
, Mayday. Just say yes, you’re moving in with me.”
I give her a look for cutting me off. “The
but
is, I’ll have to check with my probation officer to make sure it’s okay. They’ve already arranged for me to stay in a hostel.”
“Uh-uh. No way is my girl staying in some skanky hostel for ex-convicts—no offense.” Her face blanches when she realizes what she just said. “Because you’re not an ex-con, Daisy. Well, technically, you are, but you aren’t, and—”
“Ce, it’s fine.” I laugh. “I am an ex-con. It’s just the way it is.”
Daisy Smith, ex-con.
That brand will stay with me until the day I die.
My life is completely different now to how it was before I went inside. There’s nothing I can do about that. But I can do something about my future.
I can make sure that I never let myself be fooled by a man again.
And I can damn well make sure that I build a better life for Jesse and me.
Better than what we had before.
I’m not smart. I don’t have a degree. But I’m a hard worker.
All I need is for someone to take a chance on me and give me the opportunity to give Jesse everything he should have had…everything he deserves.
The kid was dealt a shit hand. At least I had our mum around when I was growing up—not that she was much use even then—but her drug habit worsened after Jesse was born. I think our dad dying was the catalyst.
Our dad was barely around as it was. An addict himself, he was out on one of his benders and injected himself with some bad heroin—not that there’s such a thing as good heroin. One minute, he was there, and the next, he was gone. And so was she. She was there physically—well, not all the time—but she checked out mentally. So, when she left, it wasn’t exactly a hardship.
I had Jesse, and that was all I cared about.
“I have to go check in with my probation officer now,” I tell Cece. “So, I’ll ask him about moving in with you and see what he says.”
“Cool. We’ll go see him and tell him that you’re coming home with me today.” She gives me a petulant smile.
I shake my head, laughing. When Cece has something set in her head, there’s no dissuading her. It’s one of the many things I love about her. That, and her fierce loyalty.
She turns on the engine, and the radio in her car comes on. Drake’s “Hold On, We’re Going Home” bleeds out of the car speakers.
I let out a humorless laugh and meet Cece’s eyes. “You have this playing on purpose?”
A small smile plays on her lips. “Maybe.”
I let out another laugh. But I don’t really feel it. Because I’m not going home. Not really. Home is where Jesse is, and I can’t be with him because I made a mistake. I trusted the wrong person, and it cost me my brother and eighteen months of my life.
I rest my head back against the seat and stare out the passenger window, letting out a sigh.
“Hey…you okay?” Cece’s voice is soft.
I turn my head to look at her. “Yeah”—I smile—“I’m good. And thanks for…everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You’ll never have to find out.”
Tw
o
Sitting in the empty waiting room on the first floor of the probation service office, waiting to see my assigned probation officer, Toby Willis, I stare out the window and look at the busy London area.
Everything looks the same but different.
Or maybe it’s just me that’s different.
Cece wanted to come in with me, but I told her to go grab a coffee instead of being stuck in the waiting room until I was done. I told her that I’d meet her back at the car in an hour.
That was half an hour ago, and I still haven’t been called in to see him.
As I think it, a guy appears in the open doorway. Looks to be in his mid-thirties. Shaved hair—like literally not a hair is to be found on his head—and he’s wearing a black pinstriped suit that looks like it’s seen better days.
“Daisy Smith? I’m Toby Willis. Do you want to come through?”
I get to my feet and follow him down the corridor and into his office. I take the seat at his desk as he shuts the door behind us.
He comes around the desk and takes his seat. “Sorry I was late for our appointment. I got stuck in a meeting I couldn’t get out of.”
“It’s fine.” I smile. “I’m used to waiting around, and it’s not like I have anyplace to be.”
He lifts his eyes to mine. They’re blue and kind-looking. Actually, now that I think about it, his whole face looks kind. In stark contrast with his harsh-looking bald head.
He smiles. “Well, let’s hope we can change that for you.” He turns to his computer and taps some keys. Then, he reaches over and grabs a file.
I see my name written on the top.
He opens the file, looking through some of the papers. “So”—he looks up at me—“I won’t keep you here long. Really, all we need to do is have you look over the terms of your release and have you sign the license that signals your release. Then, we’ll discuss housing options and employment possibilities.”
“Can I start with the housing options?” I ask.
Leaning back in his chair, he gives me a nod, giving me the go-ahead.
“I know I’m supposed to move into a hostel. But my best friend has a three-bedroom apartment in Sutton, South London, and she’s asked me to live with her. If that’s okay with you.”
“Your friend, she doesn’t have a criminal record?”
“God, no.” I laugh quickly. “She’s a hairstylist. Never been in trouble in her life.”
But then again, neither had I until I was stitched up for theft.
I hold my tongue on that one. No point in protesting my innocence anymore. That ship sailed a long time ago.
“Then, I don’t see a problem with it. So long as I have the address and your friend’s details, then it’s fine.”
“Thank you.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I didn’t want to say it to Cece, but the thought of living in a hostel…it felt like I would be going back into a form of prison. “Do you want the address now? I have it. Cece wrote it down for me.”
“Sure.”
From my jeans pocket, I get the piece of paper with my new address on it and hand it over. He takes it from me and puts it inside my file.
“Here are the terms of your release. You have to adhere to these rules for the remainder of your sentence.” He hands over the sheet of paper. “Read them carefully, and then sign at the bottom. Know that you don’t have to sign, but the terms will still be legally binding.”
“Okay.” I give him a weak smile.
I read over the terms. They say what I expected them to…that if I am found breaking the law in any way, then I’ll be back inside to serve out the remainder of my sentence.
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.”