The Buried (The Craftsmen) by Sharon Bolton

Author:Sharon Bolton [Bolton, Sharon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781409174189
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2022-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

62

Sally

Saturday, 9 August 1969

The visitors’ hall in HMP Manchester was huge, and six massive skylights let in a dull, dust-filled light that reached every corner. It felt like a room in which nothing went unseen.

Eyes were everywhere. The prison guards stood, backs to walls, scanning everyone who came in with a ruthless, robotic efficiency, and in my nervy, keyed-up state, it looked like every prisoner was watching me. Only when I was about halfway across the room did I realise they were all just curious about Larry Glassbrook’s wife. The attention was for him, as usual.

As I approached Larry’s table, a cloud moved and a beam of dirty yellow light shone through one of the skylights, making his hair gleam the purple-black of a crow’s wing. He stood and held his arms wide as though to hug me. I hadn’t touched Larry since the night he was taken from us and I didn’t want to now. I stopped short of his table and tried to think of something to say.

His hands dropped to his sides. ‘You look beautiful,’ he told me.

He didn’t. His hair needed washing. He hadn’t shaved in thirty-six hours – I could time his beard to the hour – and there was a graze on his face. Not beautiful, and yet … I’d expected him to be diminished somehow, by prison. He hadn’t been.

‘It’s good to see you,’ he said.

I had nothing to say. I couldn’t even look at him any longer. I let my eyes drop to the cheap metal and plastic table between us. Would I be allowed to leave early? If I ran to the door now, would someone stop me? Was I a prisoner too, until the time came for my release? Already, my sense of the world outside was fading.

‘You should sit down, love. How was your journey?’

As though to set an example, he pulled out his own chair and sat. I did too.

‘How are the girls?’ he asked.

Common ground. We could talk about the girls for a minute or two. ‘They’re OK,’ I said. ‘They’re coping. They send their love.’

He smiled and ran his fingers through his hair, Elvis-style. The gesture actually hurt me. It genuinely physically hurt me to see him do it. ‘You always were a terrible liar,’ he said. ‘How are they really?’

I tried again. ‘Having trouble with their friends. Fighting with each other. Cassie has been sleepwalking.’ I almost told him about the man I’d seen in the kitchen with her and decided against it. For now. ‘And Luna has been having her night terrors. But they’re getting up in the morning and—’ I stopped.

‘You’re taking each day at a time?’ he said.

I nodded, and we were quiet for a while.

‘Avril Cunningham’s coming to see me next week,’ Larry said. ‘There’s not a lot she can do for me, to be honest, but she says you and the girls need help.’

‘Roy says he owns our house,’ I said. ‘Is it true?’

He flinched at the look on my face.

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