For as long as she could remember, Dolly’s life had been a series of events out of her control. It had all started when she made the mistake of leaving the diamonds with Audrey bloody Withey. Audrey had sold them for a fraction of their value, meaning that Dolly couldn’t afford to open the children’s home she’d dreamed of and had somehow ended up taking on responsibility for six other women. All of this had ultimately led her to the decision to rob a mail train.

Some days Dolly would reason that committing this crime had been the only way for all of the women to have the lives they needed, but on others she would admit that the opportunity had been too good to pass up. Whatever the reason, nothing would ever be good enough for Ester. She was the one person who still doubted Dolly’s integrity. The one person who, after all of the risks Dolly had taken, couldn’t see a future where she didn’t screw them all over and leave them with nothing. Dolly didn’t blame Ester for her paranoia—prison damages some people beyond repair.

It was one o’clock in Angela’s flat and the women were on to their third bottle of Cava. Connie sat on the floor, propped against the sofa where Angela sat with her legs out straight. Julia was curled up into an armchair—for a tall woman, she folded up into the smallest of spaces.

The lounge was quiet, except for the far-off sounds of Rob snoring gently from the bedroom at the other end of the corridor. The main lights were off; only a tall lamp in the corner of the room, by the balcony doors, provided any light. The bulb reflected in the glass through the cheap paper shade, highlighting the children’s little handprints. Out on the balcony itself, wrapped around the top railing, was a string of white lights. At Christmas they flashed on and off, but tonight they were permanently on.

Again, Connie was the one to break the silence.

“I’m glad Ester’s not here. Is that horrible of me?” Julia and Angela made faces in agreement. “I think she must be very sad. She can’t have many friends, can she? Not with her being such a bitch, I mean.” Julia spat out a laugh. “After all, she’s the reason we couldn’t go anywhere near the money for 20-odd bloody years! ‘You make a move without me and I’ll see the lot of you inside!’ Cheeky cow! She gets herself locked up for murder and we have to wait for her to get out!”

“It wasn’t just her, Con,” Julia pointed out. “Even after Ester got out, we couldn’t get near because Norma was still alive. Who knew she had so many friends? Most nights in her house was like the Policeman’s bloody Ball—coppers everywhere. I mean, we couldn’t have found a more stupid fucking place to hide the money if we’d tried.”

“I think it was genius,” Angela countered. “Dolly couldn’t have known Ester was going to lose her mind and shoot the place up.”