‘You what?’ Sedge says.
‘All women are drawn to the alpha male.’ Wolfe goes back to his folding and twisting. ‘They can’t help themselves. The cleverer ones, the feminists, will deny it, but the evidence is against them.’ He glances up at Sedge, sees no sign of light dawning. ‘It’s instinctive,’ he tries again. ‘The bigger, stronger, smarter men are going to be better at protecting the women and their children. They’ll bring home more food. A man who is capable of killing is the ultimate protector.’
‘Aye, but, like . . .’ Sedge has an idea in his head, is struggling to get it out. ‘You can’t protect any of ’em. You can’t even bring ’em home a takeaway pizza, you’re banged up in here, so how does that work?’
‘It works even better. It makes me a fantasy figure. They can dream about how dark and dangerous I am, with no chance of real life getting in the way. They’ll never find out that, like most blokes, I can be a bit of a twat.’
Phil looks up. This is something he and Wolfe have discussed before. Phil is yet to be convinced. ‘Yeah, but like, my missus, she won’t take shit from no one, especially not me. I just don’t get what you say about birds secretly wanting to be bossed about. It’s the other way round at our gaff.’
‘Jezz, this one is well fit!’ Sedge has pulled a photograph from the pile. Wolfe glances over. It is a selfie, taken in a bedroom. The girl is naked from the waist up.
‘She looks fifteen.’ Wolfe takes it and drops it in the bin. ‘If I could be bothered, I’d send it home to her parents. And we’re talking fantasy here, mate. Just about every erotic film or book going is about a young, innocent woman being dominated by a dangerous man. All women secretly long to be dominated.’ He grins to himself. ‘Especially by a bloke who’s fit and handsome. That’s why I get the letters, you Scotch pillock, and you don’t.’
‘Frigging Nora, look at the tits on this one!’ Sedge probably isn’t listening. He hands another photograph over to Phil who nods, appreciatively. ‘Hamish, mate, why don’t you get some of ’em to visit?’
‘That’s what I keep saying,’ Phil pipes up. ‘He should find one he likes the look of, write to her a few times and get a relationship going. Has to be better than just getting visits from his mum.’
‘Yeah, why not, mate? Don’t you want a woman?’
Hamish smiles to himself and glances up at the calendar on the wall. ‘Maybe I’m waiting for the right woman.’
The flower is finished. Wolfe twirls it between forefinger and thumb.
‘Nice one.’ Phil has given up watching the action on the corridor and comes back to admire the flower. ‘Want me to put it on the ledge?’
‘No thanks, mate. I’m keeping hold of this one.’
‘What is it?’
Wolfe looks down at a dozen, slim white petals, the yellow centre, and raises it to his lips. ‘It’s a daisy.’
Chapter 31
‘WHY IS YOUR hair blue?’
The child before Maggie is a girl of about six years old.
‘It’s my favourite colour,’ Maggie tells her.
‘Mine’s pink.’
‘Kelsey, don’t bovver the lady.’
Kelsey doesn’t even glance at her mother.
‘I like pink too,’ says Maggie. ‘I nearly wore my pink coat today.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘I don’t know, it just felt like a white coat sort of day. Do you ever have days when only one coat or one dress will do?’
Kelsey stares.
‘It won’t stay white for long in this place.’ The woman, several seats away, is in her mid thirties. Her blonde hair looks freshly dyed and her make-up better suited to a nightclub than a prison. On her lap is a baby of about eighteen months old. ‘Not seen you ’ere before. First time?’
Maggie nods. If she accepts Hamish Wolfe as a client, she’ll be entitled to legal visits, which will be more flexible, and conducted in private. Until then, she is a visitor like any other.
‘We come every fortnight. Costs a frigging fortune: B and B in Southampton, three of us on the ferry. Not so bad in summer, the kids get to go to the beach, but this weather it’s a bloody pain.’
‘Are you visiting your husband?’
The woman wrinkles her nose. ‘Well, not my husband, exactly. We’re not married yet. We will, when he gets out. Kids are his, both of them. We’re a proper family.’
‘Is he due home soon?’
‘Five years. If he behaves.’
‘That sounds like a long time to me. It must be difficult.’
The woman pulls up the hem of her skirt and scratches the inside of her knee. ‘Well, it’s not what you sign up for, is it? I miss the money, obviously, although it were never that regular, and I never really knew where it were coming from. Mainly, though, it’s the sex I miss. Having someone there at night. It’s hard for him, too, if you know what I mean.’
Maggie glances uneasily at the six-year-old girl. Her pale blue eyes are flicking from one woman to the other.