The Take

by Martina Cole

  The world they lived in was a funny place. You could be the biggest piece of shit but if you achieved and did not tread on anyone’s toes you were fêted. If you fucked up, or someone decided to take what you had and succeeded, then you were forgotten about. It was the way things worked. No one gave a toss who they were earning with as long as they were earning.

  Jimmy, she knew, had never understood her relationship with Freddie, and she could not explain, even to herself, the excitement a truly dangerous man generated inside her chest. The knowledge of his exploits and the fact that he treated her with kid gloves was a heady package. Every time she stripped him off and saw the want in him, it made her almost come there and then with the thrill of it all. He was like a wild animal who she had tamed. And now, although of course she would not say this out loud, she practically owned him. She would hint that she knew about the event, make him realise subtly that she had him over a barrel, and watch as he tried his best to make her want him even though he had fucked up big time.

  And want him she did, like she had never wanted anyone in her life before.

  She liked to be in control, money did that to a body. When you could keep yourself, make your own decisions and most of the men you met were wary or even scared of you and your connections, it was a natural progression. Now she used the men, they did not use her. She needed sex, nothing more and nothing less. There wasn’t a man walking who could give her more than she could give herself, so why bother?

  She would have Freddie again. She knew without a doubt that he actually cared about her, and it was probably the nearest that bastard had ever come to loving a woman. She was willing to give him another whirl, and this time he would be so far under her thumb she would leave an imprint.

  But until then she had to talk Jimmy round and let him believe that she was only swallowing because of him, that she was willing to keep Freddie on the firm because of all the money they had invested. After all, as she would remind him, Ozzy was her brother and it would mean lying to him, at least by omission if not to his face. He would owe her, Freddie and Jimmy would owe her big time.

  She wondered if Jimmy would see through her. He was a clever little fucker and she respected that in him. She was also wary of him because her brother thought the sun shone out of his every orifice, and that included his arse.

  She knew that Ozzy had a good head for people and she also knew that as long as Ozzy wanted him, then she wanted him as well.

  She knew how to play the game. She wasn’t stupid.

  ‘You all right, love?’

  Freddie was holding a crying Jackie and she was letting him hold her. Enjoying the feel of him as his strong arms tightened around her.

  This was what she wanted, what she needed. He poured her another generous shot of vodka and still holding her he motioned with his head to the glass. Deep down she knew that normally he would have been telling her not to drink, accusing her of being a piss head, a drunkard. Today, she knew it suited him to get her drunk, to get her on his side and as always she was quite happy to let that happen.

  If only he knew that no matter what he did she would be there for him. She always had been in the past, hadn’t she? No matter what he had done, she had stood by him, defended him, cared about him. Why would that change, unless of course he had really murdered the girl and now he was frightened?

  She pushed that thought from her head. He was a man and all men chased strange. Her own father had chased enough of it when she was growing up.

  She saw a picture of Jimmy flash into her drink-muddled brain and forced it away again. Freddie joked at times that Jimmy was a bit Stoke-on-Trent, well, maybe he was. That would explain why they were so happy. Her sister and Jimmy were like some kind of parody, like a fucking advert for happy families, or Kellogg’s Cornflakes.

  That might be why. If Jimmy was a bit of a shirt-lifter, then that explained a lot.

  She knew what she was thinking was all wrong, and even worse, she was being completely disloyal to a sister who had always supported her, who had always cleared up her messes. But she needed to think it so she could feel better about herself and her husband’s latest escapade. Jackie would sacrifice anyone for her own peace of mind, or her husband’s.

  She was so pleased that he was with her, trying to make her believe in him. This was exactly what she needed in her life. Freddie knew where his bread was buttered and it was buttered with her and by her.

  Freddie held his wife, knowing that the more he was with her the more chance she would believe his side of the story. Also, love her or loathe her, Jackie wouldn’t blank him even if she had seen him do it with her own eyes. Whatever he said she took on board.

  ‘You didn’t do it deliberately, did you, Freddie?’

  He had been expecting this question, it meant that he was nearly home and dry. This was where she convinced herself he was telling her the truth. He had been there, done that so many times that he could have nodded off and still given the correct responses.

  He pushed her away from him, making sure she felt vulnerable, making sure she felt his upset by his anger. Felt rejected. He looked as innocent as the day was long, he was all wide eyes and broken heart. She knew she had just done a wrong one and she would have to pay for that.

  ‘Please, Jackie, are you trying to hurt me or what? Are you deliberately trying to make me feel even worse than I do already?’

  He was picking up his cigarettes now, and his lighter, he was telling her with his body language that he was going to walk away from her, leave her, maybe for good. He was capable of doing that, even over this, he was capable of leaving her high and dry for days or even weeks on end. He had done that so many times, just walked away from her, from the kids . . .

  He sighed heavily. ‘I can’t do this any more, Jackie, I just can’t take this any more, you know. I try and be honest, be straight . . .’

  She was clinging to him now, her whole body was trying to hold him to her, near to her, keep him in his seat so she could look at him, be with him all night. It had been so long since they had loved properly, since she had felt this good about herself.

  She loved it when he needed her, and he needed her so rarely that when he did she would do anything to keep the feelings only he made her feel.

  Ozzy had no idea what was going on. He had problems of his own. A new screw had appeared as if by magic on the SSB unit and was under the impression he was there to do a job or something.

  He would not be bought off, he would not be told and, worse than that, he was under the mistaken apprehension that he had some kind of sway.

  That he might even be listened to.

  This was an anomaly for all the men on the unit, who had thought he might just be holding out for a few extra quid. That was not unheard of in the prison system, after all they were all after what they could get and the cons and screws alike understood that.

  This guy though, this Harry Parker, really was the unreachable screw. They had all heard of them but this was the first time they had ever come across one. He was rude, arrogant and he could not be bought. It was time for them to do what had to be done and it was Ozzy who decided to do the dirty deed.

  When young Harry, as he had become known, walked into the recreation room at seven thirty in the evening, ready to tell everyone to go to bed and have sweet dreams etc, he found the place empty except for Ozzy.

  Ozzy smiled at him in a friendly but threatening fashion, and said, ‘I think it’s time we had a meet, don’t you?’

  Harry shook his head. The more the screws told him he was a mug the more he was determined to do what he thought was right. His arrogance knew no bounds, not yet anyway.

  ‘No, I don’t. I think you had better get your fat arse off the chair and get your fat body into your cell. I am bolting down in -’ he looked at his watch then - ‘fifteen seconds.’ He smiled at Ozzy with that infuriating smile he had, the smile that had made his wife leave him, his family endure him and his friends avoid him.

&nb
sp; Ozzy didn’t move for a while. He stared the man down before saying reasonably, ‘So this can never be resolved, is that what you are saying?’

  Harry nodded once more, then he said sarcastically and with the voice of a winner, ‘At last.’ Pointing at Ozzy, he said in a most disrespectful manner, ‘You don’t scare me, none of you. You’re all villains and you’re all banged up. I am going home to my house and the telly. The sooner you understand that on my watch you all take care and look out for yourselves, the better off you will all be.’

  Harry was still smiling his maddening smile he had. It never touched his eyes and it held no real mirth.

  ‘Is that right, you obnoxious little cunt.’

  Harry was shocked at the language, even though he had heard worse than that over the years. ‘Get up, Ozzy, and don’t you ever talk to me like that again. If you do you will be on report.’

  Ozzy still sat there quietly and without any thought of moving anywhere.

  This threw Harry, who was now getting frightened. The other screws should have been there by now and it occurred to him he might be on his own. He was a bully, but only when he was assured he could be one without ever getting any kind of comeback. He was the man in the pub who caused a fight and then stepped back as someone else finished it for him.

  Ozzy understood him, probably better than he knew himself, and getting up he walked to Harry and with a lightning movement he chivved him. The shank he used was very sharp and had been made in the machine shop a few days earlier. It was a Stanley knife blade embedded in a piece of wood that was supposed to have been the bow of a model boat being made for a charity auction.

  It was a lethal weapon, and it was also a handy little tool.

  Ozzy watched as young Harry put his hand up to his throat, and he watched as he saw the complete bewilderment on the man’s face. He really could not believe he had been chivved, he had actually believed that he would not get any retribution whatsoever.

  It was amazing, really. Someone should have given him the unofficial rulebook. It was down to the screws to take care of each other, it was not the cons’ job to make sure they looked after their own.

  There was a horrible gurgling noise coming from old Harry. Ozzy had done this enough times to know it was the end of the line for him, he was going to die on the filthy floor of the rec room. Well, he wouldn’t be the first, and definitely not the last.

  What a pointless death, and what a pointless cunt to come into a drum like this and really believe that he could get the better of them all. Bring back Esther Rantzen and her jobsworths.

  He knelt over the dying man, making sure not to get any of the rapidly growing pool of blood anywhere near his shoes or clothes. Harry’s eyes had not glazed over just yet. He was still trying to call out, and the blood was coming out of his severed windpipe in little bursts of red mist.

  Ozzy grinned at him then. ‘Ta ta, son.’

  He stood up and walked sedately from the rec room. Outside the screws were nowhere to be seen, but he expected that. It was as arranged, and if he arranged something then it happened. If only that little fucker had understood that, then things might have been very different.

  He was whistling away to himself as he sauntered back to his wing and he waved at friends and pretend friends, who were all aware of what he had done.

  He went into the toilets and dropped the chiv in the sink.

  He was followed seconds later by a gofer by the name of Paulie who poured a kettle of boiling water over it. Then he took it in a clean towel to the top landing, where he dropped the whole thing into the tea urn where it would be boiled and cooled overnight, making sure there was nothing on it that could be traced back to Ozzy or his counterparts.

  For a few weeks there would be almost a seg time, which meant a segregation feel to the wing, a serious lock down and investigation. After all, a screw had been panhandled. But then it would all go back to normal and life would resume as before, minus one arrogant little fucker and minus any kind of retaliation.

  Jimmy and Maggie were sitting with Stephanie’s mother. Jimmy watched as his lovely little wife explained how sorry they were for what had happened to her daughter. They had brought the woman ten grand for her expenses, and the mother, who had sold herself until her daughter had been able to go out and earn for the both of them, was over the moon.

  Stephanie’s youngest son, a big, hefty four year old, looked suspiciously like Freddie and Jimmy knew that Maggie had noticed this as well. The boy was not a headcase like his father, in fact he was a kind, dear little boy, and Maggie felt the urge to cry as she saw the way he cuddled his grandma and kept asking where his mammy was.

  She got the impression that Steph had been a good mother in her own way, and she also had the feeling that the grandma would dump the kids into care without a by-your-leave.

  Maggie poured another cup of tea and sighed heavily. She felt annoyed that she had been dragged into all this, and also that her sister seemed to think that this girl’s death meant nothing.

  As she looked around the scruffy but clean kitchen it was as if the poor girl was in her sights. She had grown up in a kitchen like this, and in a different world this could have been her, her life, and maybe even her death.

  She knew, unlike the majority of women on the planet, how easy it was to get caught up in the world of prostitution. She always laughed as she watched women in her salon talking about their lives, women who were literally kept by married men and still did not equate their lives with those of the women who were doing the same thing for any poor fucker with a few quid. And so many of the young girls she saw were the girlfriends of local villains and did not ever think that they were going to get older and might be traded in. In her mind they were no better than the Stephanies of this world, but she had the sense to keep that gem of wisdom to herself.

  She had told Freddie exactly what she thought of him, and she knew that he would not let that go, not in a million years. She also felt all the better for saying it to him and getting it off her chest.

  He had laughed at her, and she knew that he felt he had got one over on them all. Oh, he might look like he was contrite in the future but he wasn’t. Now the shock had worn off he was back to his old self. They had saved his arse and it was all over as far as he was concerned. He had walked away, he always walked away from everything. And she had seen the way her sister had looked at him, as if he was a god.

  Maggie had called him scum, and she had told him that if it wasn’t for Ozzy she would have seen him rot in hell for what he had done.

  Now Jimmy knew what she had done and she didn’t care.

  Then they had come here to this house full of sadness and hurt and she would never forgive either of them, Freddie or Jimmy, for dragging her into all this.

  Freddie saw the murder on the news and smiled. He had known that Ozzy was going to take out the little bastard, and he was only glad that it had been now, and not another day. As luck would have it, he would be all segged up for a while and that meant no visits, no nothing.

  He was a lucky man in more ways than one, in fact at times he wondered if he should change his name to Lucky Jackson. If he fell in shit he would come up smelling of Old Spice and dead whores. He laughed at the thought, and Jackie turned around and looked at him askance. He smiled at her, his most charming, his most innocent smile.

  As he lay on his sofa, drinking vodka and wine and watching another serial-killer film with his son and wife, he was feeling almost back to his normal self.

  The old whore was dead and that was that. It was all about protecting the living now, and he was alive and he was kicking. She was a fucking brass, a Tom, she was lucky to have lasted as long as she had. In fact, he had done the world a favour, she was a fucking blot on the landscape of life. His dad used to say that about him, well, he was dead and all. He had learned the same lesson before he went, and that was not to push him too far because he was not going to let anyone take him for a cunt.

  Life was a s
eries of kicks in the teeth, as his old mum had always said, and she was right. But that bitch Maggie was going to pay for the way she had spoken to him, and for the way she had looked at him, and she would pay with change to spare.

  He had no reason to let them walk all over him because of a fucking brass, but he was shrewd enough to know that at the moment he had to swallow and wait his turn.

  Because his turn would come, he was sure of that, and when it did she had better watch her well-tanned little arse.

  Chapter Thirteen

  In the time since Stephanie had died everything had slowly got back to normal, at least to all outward appearances. Anyone who could be bought off had been bought off, anyone who cared was already a thing of the past and the girls were all too frightened to open up that particular can of worms.

  Jimmy had never been the same, and Freddie was more than aware of that. He didn’t even stay for a drink with him any more unless he had to, and Freddie was fed up with it all. It was a brass, so what was the big problem? It was certainly a melon scratcher as far as he was concerned, anyone would think it was a real person who had died, someone with a life, or at least a life expectancy.

  Jimmy was blanking him. He knew a blank when he got one, and he was getting a bit miffed with it all. It seemed young Jimmy could be one awkward ponce, an observation he had made many years ago. Now, though, it seemed Jimmy was under some kind of impression that what he thought actually mattered.

  The atmosphere between them was still rife with accusation and even though they had never once discussed it since the fateful night, the blame was there whenever Jimmy looked at him and it was starting to really give him the hump.

  This friendly mugging off had to stop, and Freddie was now ready to address it.

  Since the night Jimmy had come to his house all testosterone and anger, he had made a point of keeping his trap shut. He knew that Jimmy had a point and he’d been quite happy to play the game. Now, however, it was over and time to look through the round window. Freddie was aware that it was still too soon to flex his muscles, so he smiled and shook hands and wished Jimmy well.