She's Out Read online

  Lynda La Plante was born in Liverpool. She trained for the stage at RADA and worked with the National Theatre and RSC before becoming a television actress. She then turned to writing – and made her breakthrough with the phenomenally successful TV series Widows.

  Her novels have all been international bestsellers. Her original script for the much-acclaimed Prime Suspect won awards from the BAFTA, British Broadcasting and the Royal Television Society as well as the 1993 Edgar Allen Poe Writer’s Award.

  Lynda La Plante has been made an honorary fellow of the British Film Institute and was given the BAFTA Dennis Potter Writer’s Award 2000. She was awarded a CBE in the Queen’s Birthday Honours list in 2008 and inaugurated into the Crime Thriller Writer’s Hall of Fame in 2009.

  Visit Lynda at her website: www.laplanteproductions.com

  Also by Lynda La Plante

  Backlash

  Blood Line

  Blind Fury

  Silent Scream

  Deadly Intent

  Clean Cut

  The Red Dahlia

  Above Suspicion

  The Legacy

  The Talisman

  Bella Mafia

  Entwined

  Cold Shoulder

  Cold Blood

  Cold Heart

  Sleeping Cruelty

  Royal Flush

  The Little One: Quick Read 2011

  Seekers

  She’s Out

  The Governor

  The Governor II

  Trial and Retribution

  Trial and Retribution II

  Trial and Retribution III

  Trial and Retribution IV

  Trial and Retribution V

  First published in Great Britain by Pan Books, 1995

  This edition first published by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2012

  A CBS COMPANY

  Copyright © Lynda La Plante, 1995

  This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

  No reproduction without permission.

  ® and © 1997 Simon & Schuster Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  The right of Lynda La Plante to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  Simon & Schuster UK Ltd

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  222 Gray’s Inn Road

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  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  B Format ISBN 978-1-47110-027-7

  Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-47110-028-4

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-47110-029-1

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  A note from the author

  I never had any intention of writing a continued series from the original Widows. Due to its success, I was encouraged to write Widows II, which happily also proved to be very successful. I was subsequently persuaded by Verity Lambert the executive producer of both series, to contemplate another outing of the four women. I recall our meeting with great fondness. Verity was my mentor and her constant support and encouragement was the basis of my writing career. She wanted to know what thoughts I had and if I would agree to write for the characters again.

  In the original series the character of Dolly Rawlins drove the emotional, bereaved widows into agreeing to pull off the robbery their husbands had died attempting. They were younger and financially in debt, whereas she was wealthy, and lived in a sumptuous house. The reality was they never really believed in her proposition – that they could take over the planned robbery of the security wagon – but Dolly Rawlins was very persuasive, offering to pay them for the time it would take to plan and put the heist into action.

  She was the one who discovered the plans and she had an obsessive determination that was fuelled by her grief. Dolly had been desperate for a child; her adoration for her husband was such that she believed by pulling off the doomed robbery, she would keep him alive. One by one the widows agreed to rehearse and work out the plans to re-enact the robbery, but never expected it would come to fruition. They pocketed the cash she paid them, feeling certain Mrs Rawlins was unbalanced and would drop the idea eventually.

  What then happened was a series of events that drew the women together. Dolly Rawlins was a force to be reckoned with. Originally grief-stricken and in truth not really believing in the robbery herself, she discovered her beloved husband was a liar and, shockingly, still alive. He had planned to leave Dolly for his mistress after the robbery and her anguish at his betrayal was even more brutal when she realised his mistress had a child by him.

  Dolly Rawlins’s grief turned to a blind fury, an anger that made her cajole and encourage the widows into believing that her original plan could make them wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. The rehearsals and detailed organisation pushed the women into a growing admiration for the woman they had thought crazy. The ‘Widows’ succeeded where their husbands had failed… but for Dolly Rawlins there was no elation. At the end she faced the sad truth of his betrayal, and the grief that had consumed her was replaced by a friendship between the women that gave her a future.

  Widows II saw how the women lost their fortunes, and were hunted not only by the police, but by Dolly Rawlins’ supposedly dead husband. Having committed a crime once, they were tougher and hungry for more. They planned a jewel robbery and this time they paid a high price as one of them died in return for the glittering diamonds.

  Dolly Rawlins also succeeded in tracing her errant husband and met him in a painful, hideous confrontation. The man she had adored, trusted and loved attempted to gain her forgiveness. Dolly chose to commit the ultimate crime and she shot him dead.

  The surviving widows disappeared with their share of the diamonds but Dolly was arrested, not for murder but for her part in the jewel robbery. She never named the other women, and was sentenced to ten years in Holloway prison.

  Truthfully it did seem that it would be very hard to resurrect yet another outing of Widows, but dear Verity Lambert was a very persuasive producer and I didn’t want to disappoint. I mulled ideas over and ran them past her at our next meeting. For many years I had been a visitor to Holloway prison, giving talks and writing lectures and I spent considerable time with many inmates. On one of these visits I had met a notorious female prisoner who was serving time for murder. One of the prison officers had told me that she was a formidable character, very much the ‘top dog’ and that many of the younger inmates looked up to her. She had an excellent behaviour record, and was a model prisoner. She gave the appearance of being a ‘mothering type,’ helping in every aspect of prison life. This also included time in the maternity wing caring for pregnant prisoners and those who had given birth whilst serving their sentences.

  I started to think about the possibility of this prisoner being Dolly Rawlins. I was even more drawn to the idea when the same prison officer said that due to her good behaviour her sentence had been shortened and she had proved to the parole board she was a worthy candidate for an early release. What she added gave me more ideas … ‘She’s an ice woman beneath all the smiles, you can’t trust her. She’s got women in here eating out of the palm of her hand. They think she’s a mothering figure. If she’s released, she’ll use any of the kids that she’s befriended, never mind the ones that have already got out.’

  Dolly Rawlins became the ‘ice woman’. Tougher, meaner and without the ‘friends’ from her early days. She would nee
d fresh ones, gullible girls, and this time she would plan a robbery that was so audacious her previous crimes would pale in comparison!

  She’s Out is dedicated to the wonderful actress Anne Mitchell who brought Dolly Rawlins alive on the screen. And so popular that graffiti was scrawled on walls around the East End saying ‘Go for it Dolly’.

  Lynda La Plante

  2012

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 1

  The date was ringed with a fine red biro circle, 15 March 1994. It was the only mark on the cheap calendar pinned to the wall in her cell. There were no photographs, no memorabilia, not even a picture cut out of a magazine. She had always been in a cell by herself. The prison authorities had discussed the possibility of her sharing with another inmate but it had been decided it was preferable to leave Dorothy Rawlins as she had requested – alone.

  Rawlins had been a model prisoner from the day she had arrived. She seemed to settle into a solitary existence immediately. At first she spoke little and was always polite to both prisoners and prison officers. She rarely smiled, she never wrote letters, but read for hours on end alone in her cell, and ate alone. After six months she began to work in the prison library; a year later she became a trusty. Gradually the women began to refer to Rawlins during recreational periods, asking her opinion on their marriages, their love lives. They trusted her opinions and her advice but she made no one a close friend. She wrote their letters, she taught some of the inmates to read and write, she was always patient, always calm and, above all, she would always listen. If you had a problem, Dolly Rawlins would sort it out for you. Over the following years she became a very dominant and respected figure within the prison hierarchy.

  The women would often whisper about her to the new inmates, embroidering her past, which made her even more of a queen-like figurehead. Dorothy Rawlins was in Holloway for murder. She had shot her husband, the infamous Harry Rawlins, at point-blank range. The murder took on a macabre feeling as throughout the years the often repeated story was embellished, but no one ever discussed the murder to her face. It was as if she had an invisible barrier around her own emotions. Kindly towards anyone who needed comfort, she seemed never to need anything herself.

  So the rumours continued: stories passed from one inmate to another, that Rawlins had also been a part of a big diamond raid. Although she had never been charged and no evidence had ever been brought forward at her trial to implicate her in it, the hints that she had instigated the raid, and got away with it, accentuated her mystique. More important was the rumour that she had also got away with the diamonds. The diamonds, some said, were valued at one million, then two million. The robbery had been a terrifying, brutal raid and a young, beautiful girl called Shirley Miller had been shot and killed.

  Four years into her sentence, Rawlins began to write letters to request a better baby wing at Holloway. She began to work with the young mothers and children. The result was that she became even more of a ‘Mama’ figure. There was nothing she would not do for these young women, and it was on Rawlins’s shoulders that they sobbed their hearts out when their babies were taken from them. Rawlins seemed to have an intuitive understanding, talking for hour upon hour with these distressed girls. She also had the same quiet patience with the drug offenders.

  Five years into her sentence, Dolly Rawlins proved an invaluable inmate. She kept a photo album of the prisoners who had left, their letters to her, and especially the photographs of their children. But only the calendar was pinned to the identical chipboard in every inmate’s cell. Nothing ever took precedence over the years of waiting.

  She would always receive letters when the girls left Holloway. It was as if they needed her strength on the outside, but usually the letters came only for a couple of weeks then stopped. She was never hurt by the sudden silence, the lack of continued contact, because there were always the new inmates who needed her. She was a heroine, and the whispers about her criminal past continued. Sometimes she would smile as if enjoying the notoriety, encouraging the stories with little hints that maybe, just maybe, she knew more about the diamond raid than she would ever admit. She was also aware by now that the mystery surrounding her past enhanced her position within the prison pecking order. She wanted to remain top dog and she accomplished it without fighting or arguments.

  After seven years, Rawlins was the ‘Big Mama’ – and it was always Dolly who broke up the fights, Dolly who was called on to settle arguments, Dolly who received the small gift tokens, the extra cigarettes. The prison officers referred to her as a model prisoner, and she was given a lot of freedom by the authorities. She organized and instigated further education, drug rehabilitation sessions and, with a year to go before she was released, Holloway opened an entire new mother-and-baby wing, with a bright, toy-filled nursery. This was where she spent most of her time. She was able to help the staff considerably and enjoyed caring for the children. They became a focus for Dolly, who had no visitors, no one on the outside to care for or about her. And the caring for the babies began to shape a future dream for when she would finally be free.

  Dolly Rawlins did have those diamonds waiting and, if they had been worth two million when she was sentenced, now she calculated they had to be worth three, possibly four million. Alone in her cell she would dream about just what she was going to use the money for. She calculated that fencing them would bring the value down to around one million. She would have to give a cut to Audrey, Shirley Miller’s mother, and a cut to Jimmy Donaldson, the man holding them for her. She would then have enough to open a home, buy a small terraced house, maybe in Islington or an area close to the prison, so she could come and visit the girls she knew would still need her. She even contemplated opening the home specifically for the pregnant prisoners who, she knew, would have their babies taken. Then they could know they were in good care as many of the girls were single parents and their babies might otherwise be put up for adoption.

  The daydreaming occupied Dolly for hours on end. She kept it to herself, afraid that if she mentioned it to anyone they would know for sure she had to have considerable finances. She did have several thousand pounds in a bank account arranged for her by her lawyer and she calculated that with that, a government grant and the money from the gems, the home would be up and running within a year of her release. She even thought about possibly offering a sanctuary for some of the drug addicts who needed a secure place to stay when they were released. And, a number of the women inside were battered wives: perhaps she could allocate a couple of rooms for them. The daydreaming relieved any tension that she felt. It was like a comforter, a warm secret that enveloped her and helped her sleep. The dream would soon be a reality as the months disappeared into weeks, and then days. As the ringed date was drawing closer and closer, she could hardly contain herself: this would give the rest of her life a meaning – she would have a reason to live. Never having had a child of her own it had touched her deeply to have been so close to newly born babies: their fragility, their total dependency opened the terrible, secret pain of her own childlessness. Soon she would have a houseful of children who needed her. Then she could truly call herself ‘Mama’.

  They all knew she would soon be leaving. They whispered in corners as they made cards and small gifts. Even the prison officers were sad that they would lose such a valuable inmate, not that any single one of them had ever had much interaction with her on a personal level. She rarely, if ever, made conversation with them unless it
was necessary, and one officer hated her because, at times, it seemed she had more power over the inmates than the officers. A few years back, Rawlins had struck a prison officer, slapped her face, and warned her to stay away from a certain prisoner. She had been given extra days and had been locked up in her cell. The result had been that Rawlins was fêted when she was eventually unlocked and the officer, a thickset, dark-haired woman called Barbara Hunter, never spoke or looked at Rawlins again. The animosity between Hunter and Rawlins remained throughout the years. Hunter had tried on numerous occasions to needle Dolly, as if to prove to the Governor that the model prisoner 45688 was in reality an evil manipulator. But Dolly never rose to the bait, just stared with her hard, ice-cold eyes, and it was that blank-eyed stare that, Hunter suspected, concealed a deep hatred, not just of herself, but of all the prison officers.

  Finally the day came, and Dolly carefully packed her few possessions from her cell. She waited for the call to the probation room for the usual chat with the Governor before she would finally be free. The suit she had worn the day she arrived hung on her like a rag, as she had lost a considerable amount of weight. The years she had spent banged up had made her face sallow and drawn; her hair was grey and cut short in an unflattering style.

  On 15 March, she gave away all her personal effects: a radio, some tapes, skin cream, books, and packets of cigarettes. Then she sat, hands folded on her lap, until they called her to go into the first meeting. She appeared as calm as always but her heart was beating rapidly. She would soon be out. Soon be free. It would soon be over.

  The old Victorian Grange Manor House was in a sorry state of disrepair, although at a distance it still looked impressive. The once splendid grounds, orchards and stables were all in need of attention. The grass was overgrown and weeds sprouted up through the gravel driveway. A swimming pool with a torn tarpaulin was filled with stagnant water, and even the old sign ‘Grange Health Farm’ was broken and peeling like the paint on all the woodwork of the house. The once stained glass double-fronted door had boards covering the broken panes, many of the windows had cracks and some of the tiles from the roof lay shattered on the ground below. The double chimney-breasts were toppling and dangerous. The house seemed fit only for demolition. The once vast acreage that had belonged to the manor had been sold off years before to local farmers, and the dense, dark wood that fringed the lawns had begun to encroach with brambles and twisted trees.