Chapter 36

THIRTY-SIX

Joanna hadn't had the first idea how to arrange a visit to Freddie in prison. Her solicitor had explained that he would only have one visiting order a week and they were both surprised that he was keen to send it to her.

The prison was a vast grey building made even more depressing by the drizzle in the mid-afternoon air. She had to show her driving licence and a copy of the visiting order at a reception desk, then wait for her number to be called. She found a seat in the corner and pulled her coat around her.

After about twenty minutes, she was called with another group and walked across a courtyard to another waiting room. This one looked like the security gate at a rundown airport. Everyone was scanned and checked for contraband. Then made to line up as sniffer dogs were led past them. It was hard not to feel under suspicion for something she hadn't done.

All the while, she cast furtive looks at the people around her – almost all of the visitors were women. She was surprised how young many of them were; how beautiful they were. Their hair and make-up as perfect as if they were about to go out on a date. In some way, she supposed, they were.

She was also surprised how relaxed everyone seemed with the situation. There was some chatter – even laughter – from some of the women. Her surprise must've shown on her face. A woman beside her raised a manicured eyebrow. ‘First time, hon?'

She swallowed, tried not to look like a rabbit in the headlights. ‘Yes.'

The woman tilted her head, wrinkled her nose. ‘Ah, it gets easier. Make sure you get to the shop before your one comes out. Otherwise, you waste your visiting time.'

She might as well have been speaking French for all the sense that Joanna could make from her words. ‘Sorry?'

‘There's a little shop. Tea, coffee, chocolate, biscuits, crisps—' she counted off the list on her fingers, which had long oval nails painted the most delicate shade of pink ‘—you know, snack stuff. You can buy what you want for you and your…'

She was obviously waiting for Joanna to fill in the blank. She had to say something. ‘Daughter's boyfriend.'

Both eyebrows came up together this time. ‘For your daughter's boyfriend? Wow. I won't ask. Anyway, it's nice to get some treats for them, even if they have to eat them there and can't take them away. But it's best if you get it before they bring the lads in, otherwise you waste some of your hour in the queue for a Snickers.'

The last thing she wanted to do was pass the time with Freddie over a hot drink and biscuit, but this woman was only being kind. ‘Thank you.'

‘No problem, hon. We all had to do it for the first time once. I'm Kelly. Might see you in here again.'

She forced a smile in return. ‘I'm Joanna.'

When they finally got to the room where the visit would take place, she was amazed how big it was. Like the size of a school hall. Maybe even bigger. There were rows and rows of tables and chairs and the visitors were each directed towards one. It wasn't until she tried to move a chair to sit down that Joanna noticed that both they and the tables were bolted to the floor.

Just as Kelly had described, there was a kind of tuck shop in the corner, which already had an eager line of women and children. It broke her heart to see how young some of them were. Several were pregnant, one was holding a very young baby. This was no way to start a life.

Without warning, she felt the air in the room change as faces turned towards the other end of the hall. When the door opened and the prisoners filed in, she saw a full range of human expression: searching, grinning, blushing, winking, sadness, guilt, joy, they were all there. Just behind a man whose biceps were as thick as her waist, she saw Freddie loping towards her.

He slid into the seat opposite and, for the briefest second, she saw the charm in him. The smile, the blue eyes, everything that must've pulled Charlotte in.

‘I'm really glad you've come to see me. I've been desperate to know how Eliza's doing.'

She was surprised he didn't know. ‘Hasn't your mother been keeping you informed?'

He looked a little better than he had at the funeral, although still thin and pale. He stared down at his fingers, picking at the skin around his thumbnail. ‘She said that you've been the one who's been with her. That she hasn't been allowed to get in to see her.'

It was very surprising that Annabelle still hadn't been in to see Eliza. After their conversation in the toilets after Charlotte's funeral, she'd assumed that she would be marching up to the nurses and demanding her right to get in. But she hadn't been to the hospital at all the last few days. ‘I'm sure that'll change soon enough.'

He kept picking at his nail. ‘No. I told her not to make a scene. I said she needs to give you some space until Eliza is stronger.'

She was surprised that he'd said this. Even more surprised that Annabelle had listened. ‘Thank you.'

He looked up then. And, for a moment, she saw him not as the man who'd stolen her daughter from her, but a young man who was as heartbroken as she was. ‘No, thank you. For looking after Eliza. I know that she'll be safe with you.'

Every word from his mouth just confused her more. ‘I don't understand, Freddie. Everyone I speak to wants to tell me that you loved Charlotte and wouldn't have hurt her. You've told me that you loved her and that you wouldn't hurt her. But this would hurt her. You going to prison? For something you've said time and again you didn't do? If you are telling the truth about this, you're leaving your daughter out in the world with no parent at all. If you know anything , you have to tell the police.'

He slumped back in his chair. ‘It's not as simple as that.'

If she could've leaned across the table and shaken him without incurring the wrath of the guard on the far wall, she would have. ‘Of course it is! How much time are they wasting in finding the real culprit while you're locked up?'

Freddie sighed. The scratch of his finger as he rubbed the bristles on his cheek was the only thing to cut the silence between them. Whatever was going through his head, the wrong thoughts won. ‘The police will believe whatever they want. It doesn't matter what I say.'

Frustration made her want to scream. ‘You sound like a stroppy teenager! Charlotte wanted me to believe that you were more than a spoiled rich boy and yet you're sounding just like one. And your daughter will grow up to sound the same if Eliza's guardianship goes to your mother.'

His head flicked up. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Did your solicitor not tell you? As soon as she was born, Eliza had a social worker assigned to her. Because you and Charlotte weren't married, you don't have parental rights. And your mother is intending to apply for guardianship. You must know this? She has some hotshot lawyer arguing that, because it's accidental death, you'll be trying for guardianship when you get out. But, from what I can understand from the social worker, it's just as likely than none of us will get to keep her. She could be taken into care. Or adopted. Surely someone has told you all of this?'

Freddie's eyes widened. ‘But she's my daughter. I should have custody of her. When I get out of here, she needs to live with me. There're other people in here who've done much worse than they're accusing me of doing. They get to keep their children.'

He didn't seem a stupid man but she couldn't believe he hadn't thought this through. ‘And where do you think she's going to live before you get out?'

He looked like a small boy. ‘I thought she'd stay with you. That she'd be safe with you.'

There was a sliver of hope for her in his words. Would the social worker take into consideration the wishes of Eliza's father when it came to deciding where she should live? Or would they disregard the viewpoint of a committed criminal when it came to deciding custody for his child?

‘That's what I want too. I want her with me. But I don't know what the courts are going to decide. Your mother's lawyer is trying to prove that I was estranged from Charlotte.'

Her voice broke. It was impossible. Those two weeks they hadn't spoken had been the longest of her life. Not seeing Charlotte had been like losing the use of a limb; everything she did, she felt it.

Across the table, Freddie blinked as the things she'd told him were flicking across his eyes like ticker tape. ‘I don't want her to live with my mother.'

She stared for a moment. Didn't he and his mother get on well? If that wasn't the case, it might definitely help. ‘Then you need to do something. You need to tell the police what you know. You need to get out and make sure you protect your daughter better than I did mine.'

Her heart ached with guilt and loss and, now, with absolute fear that she might lose the baby, too. Anything she could do to persuade Freddie to help her, she was willing to do.

‘I want to, but it's not that easy.'

She had to squeeze her fists closed to prevent herself from shaking him. ‘Why isn't it?'

‘Because I know who did it.'

She froze, looked into his eyes as he watched her. The clock on the wall ticked once, twice, three times. ‘What?'

He didn't blink. ‘It was my mother.'