by KERRY BARNES
‘Aw, don’t be like that, Lucy, we have a lot to discuss. As ya know, it’s been a while. How’s ya dad?’
Justin sensed the tone of sarcasm and the atmosphere around them was becoming tenser by the second. Even the waiters and bar staff were looking over at their table and standing to attention. He watched as Carl pulled up a chair and sat facing Lucy. Nervously, Justin took a deep breath and took his seat. Then Carl clicked his fingers, and immediately the waiter, dressed like a Mexican, with a sombrero and black moustache, was by his side.
‘Tony, bring over the best champagne, will ya?’
Lucy raised a hand. ‘Look, Carl, I’m having a private meal with my boyfriend, so, like I said, let’s do this another time, eh?’
Glancing up at the two meatheads standing in the gangway, he laughed. ‘Looks like we’re not wanted, boys. Our little Lucy Lou is too good for us now.’
Justin intervened. ‘I’m sure Lucy didn’t mean it that way, only we are celebrating tonight. Maybe another night, we could all enjoy a meal together. It would be nice wouldn’t it, Lucy, getting to know your friends?’ said Justin, casting a questioning look at her.
Carl tapped Justin’s face. ‘You, my son, haven’t a fucking clue.’ For a moment, Justin was expecting all hell to break loose, but the moment passed. Carl sucked in a lungful of air and stood up. ‘All right, you two lovebirds, the meal and drinks are on the house. My treat.’
Lucy glared at him with utter contempt. She hated him just then with every bone in her body and wanted nothing more than to pick up her knife and stab him in the neck, but instead, she smiled sweetly and nodded.
The waiter hurried over with the champagne. ‘It’s on the house.’ Tony’s eyes watched, as Carl got up to leave.
‘No, thank you, it’s fine,’ stated Justin, as he waved his hand, dismissing the waiter.
Tony looked at the men slipping away though the front door and then back at Justin. ‘But the boss just said …’
‘I don’t give a flying fuck what the boss said. In fact, sod the meal, I’m leaving.’ He shot Lucy a fierce glare and jumped up from his seat. ‘Are you coming, or what?’
She hurriedly followed him, desperately trying to think of a way out of this bloody cock-up. He didn’t look behind him; she knew then he was pissed off with her. Not bothering to open the door to his BMW for her, he just got in the driver’s seat and stared directly ahead, whilst she hastily climbed inside. ‘I’m so sorry, Justin. That man is just a pervert friend of my foster father. God, I thought he would never leave. I’m so glad you stuck up for me.’
She paused, holding her breath, awaiting the argument that was clearly brewing. As they headed back to the flat, he was silent, driving faster than normal, but his tight lips and tense brow told her he was fuming. She’d never seen him act so manly, standing his ground with Carl; perhaps he really wasn’t the pushover she’d imagined him to be.
He stopped abruptly outside her flat and marched on ahead, shoving his key in the door and leaving it open for her to follow. But he didn’t wait. He carried on, jumping up the stairs two at a time and then charged into the bedroom. Lucy was panicking and scurried behind him. ‘What’s wrong, Justin, what are you doing?’ She looked at him filling his sports bag with his clothes, throwing them in as if he were on a bank heist.
Grabbing his arm, she asked, ‘Justin, what the hell’s going on?’
He shrugged her off. ‘I’m not living in this flat with a fucking liar!’
‘What?’
‘You heard! That man clearly knows you well, saying he’s your uncle, and who the fuck is Lucy Lou? I said I would take it slowly, get to know you, but it seems you are a liar. You told me you were fostered. Those men aren’t doting uncles, more like hard-faced villains, and I’ll tell you this, Lucy, I’m no idiot. They know you and for reasons that are beyond my comprehension. The way he looked at you and spoke to you was too familiar. It was as if you were used to his company. I’m beginning to wonder if that baby is even mine. Are you sure it’s not Carl’s?’
Jumping back in shock, Lucy put her hands to her mouth, and her eyes brimmed with tears. Justin stopped what he was doing and sighed. ‘Look, sorry, that was a bit over the top. I didn’t mean that, but back there, it was like you were a different person, not some sweet young woman, who, from what you told me, had a very sad life.’
The tears tumbled down her cheeks. ‘All right, if you must know, Carl …’ She paused, snorting back the tears. Then, she sat on the bed, with her head in her hands, and began to sob.
She felt the bed sink, as Justin sat beside her. ‘What is it, Lucy? Who is this Carl bloke?’ His voice softened.
‘He was a friend of my foster dad, but Carl … Oh my God, I can’t bring myself to say it … he raped me when I was fifteen.’
Justin gasped. ‘He what? Jesus!’ His hands slid around her shoulders. ‘Why is he still wandering the streets? Why isn’t he locked up?’
Shaking her head and wiping her eyes, Lucy looked up at Justin’s face. ‘You will never understand what it’s like to be caught up in the system – foster care homes and children’s homes. No one believes a word you say. It’s easier not to rock the boat. If you do, you end up with a name for yourself, and if you’re not careful, they section you off.’
Her words were so utterly believable that Justin had a rush of guilt again for the umpteenth time. ‘If you had said, I would have bashed him myself.’
She ran her hand down his cheek. ‘You are so sweet, Justin, so innocently sweet. That’s why I never told you too much because how can I compare myself with Kara? She had it all, and she wasn’t damaged goods, like me. It’s taken a long time to get over what happened to me, and now I have you, I don’t want to lose you. I have a family now, at long last a family – me, you, and our baby. I never want to ruin it. I’m so sorry, Justin, I should have told you about my past, and then, perhaps, you would have understood.’
Her words were so credible that even she began to believe them herself, but that wasn’t unusual. She had an ability of exploiting her warped imagination to conjure up a life that she believed she’d been living – well, so the psychiatrist had told her.
Justin stroked her hair and wiped away the tears. ‘Hush, it’s fine. I’m sorry, I should have believed you right away. I promise you, I’ll make things better. You will never have to live in the past. We have our own future to look forward to – as you say, me, you, and the baby.’ He pulled her close and hugged her like an injured child. As she looked over his shoulder, she sadistically grinned; she knew how to lure him in.
Christ, I’m a clever girl, she thought. I should have auditioned for EastEnders. It was now just a matter of time for her master plan to unfold.
Chapter 7
Alone in her cell, Kara looked up at the ceiling. It had been two months since the day she’d arrived at the prison. Not a day went by when she didn’t think about Mrs Langley and the guilt roiled around in her stomach like a rotting egg. She often wondered if Justin missed her as much as she missed him. Even though he’d done the dirty on her, she still loved him, and it was still hurting so much. She could feel the tiny being inside her move, and that made her smile because she knew that at least she would have someone to love who would love her back without breaking her heart.
Her court case was looming, and if they sentenced her to more than two years, she would have to hand over her baby to the social services. Vic and Julie were becoming more like her own family, which was quite a shocker. Especially Vic – she made sure that Kara was at the front of the queue when they handed out the food. ‘Get in there, gal, and grab yourself a good piece of chicken. Ya need ya protein for the little one,’ she would say.
Deni had also become a real friend, although she’d had to stay away from Kara for a few weeks, in case the young mother-to-be contracted the virus that caused shingles. Her priority must be her unborn child’s safety. Once the cream and tablets ensured a speedy recovery and the rash was diagnosed as shingl
es, Kara was held in high esteem. It took a while before she worked out the dynamics, but it finally fell into place.
Deni was the matriarchal character who everyone respected, and she was useful to have in your corner. At one time, in the late Sixties, she ran a brothel, and her reputation for treating her girls with respect and keeping them off the streets was nothing short of legendary. She was apparently a big woman, in stature that is, who no one messed with, if they wanted to keep their pretty smiles. A no-nonsense woman, with a punch as hard as any man’s. So her girls didn’t need any pimp because they had her.
Her sentence started twenty years ago when she murdered two punters, both judges, who had fucked up one of her girls so badly, she could never work again, and when they came back for more, Deni set about them with a meat cleaver. The incident had captured the interest of the nation for weeks, helped by an article in The Sun that coincidentally had drawn its readers’ attention to the way some of the so-called privileged members of society treated prostitutes as pariahs. And so by the time she was sentenced and had arrived at the nick, she was given a standing ovation and a pat on the back from the inmates.
The screws smiled because although what she did was legally wrong, it wasn’t morally wrong in their eyes. Inside the prison, she was seen as fair, ensuring no one got bullied and the real nasty bitches got their just desserts. Just a nod and a flick of her eyebrow, and they would get a handmade knife in their ribs. So, when Deni came to visit Kara to thank her, everyone knew that Kara was protected. She had Vic and Julie, but more importantly, she had Deni watching her back and fighting her corner.
She remembered well the day Deni came into her room with a huge smile on her face and a strong smell of lavender. ‘You must be me own private little doctor, then? I can honestly say, I didn’t get ta see ya face properly, I was in that much bleedin’ pain.’ She stepped closer and eyed Kara over, while Vic and Julie watched. ‘Cor, pretty little thing, ain’t ya? Well, Posh, I just wanted to say, I think ya saved me life, ’cos if that pain had got any worse, I was gonna hang meself.’
She sat on the bed and nodded for Kara to take a seat.
‘It was nothing, honestly. I have seen that condition before.’
Deni looked different from the last time Kara saw her. With her cheeks round and rosy and her eyes wide open, she would probably have been a very good-looking woman in her younger days. And the stories Kara had heard about this hardened woman somehow didn’t seem to match her soft face and voice.
‘No, no, I’m not ’aving that. Ya didn’t ’ave ta come and see me, but ya did, and you put me right, so if you ever need me, you just call. Someone will find me.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Deni,’ said Kara, still marvelling at the woman’s presence in the room. Deni’s inoffensive cherubic face, grizzled hair, cut to shoulder-length, and motherly presence belied her true self. Her reputation and standing among the inmates and officers was such that when she wanted something done it was. No one mugged her off and got away with it.
‘I can see why they call ya Posh. I like it. It suits ya, gal. It’s nice to hear a well-spoken voice, instead of all the bleedin’ slang. So, Vic tells me ya just found out ya got a bun in the oven? Ahh, that’s a real shame, darling. This ain’t the place to be ’aving babies, but you ’ave us ’ere, babe, if ya need us.’ She looked up at Vic. ‘Ain’t that right, Vic?’
Vic gave a sobering smile and nodded. Kara then realised that whilst life in Larkview wouldn’t be a bed of roses, at least the women in the room were rooting for her.
Much of her time now was spent either contemplating the future, meeting with Alan Cumberbatch, her solicitor, or playing doctor to the inmates’ minor ailments. Luckily, the court case was only a few months away and her verdict would be confirmed. Alan said she was lucky that it wasn’t murder by recklessness that she was facing since the neighbour had recovered with no after-effects, apart from post-traumatic stress disorder. However, Kara could still be looking at a few years. He had assigned a barrister who would be meeting with her soon.
As she lay pondering in her cell, a commotion on the landing caught her attention. She eased herself off the bed. When she looked below at the landing to the recreational area, she could see a few of the inmates gathered, and a deranged-looking woman with a screw on either side. Then, Kara clocked Vic step towards the newcomer with her arms folded and a daring nod. Kara had never seen the inmate before, but she was obviously new, judging by the way all the onlookers stood staring at her. Vic was giving her plenty of front from the expression on the newcomer’s face. Clearly, this person was not going to be made welcome in this nick. But she didn’t seem the least bit bothered. In fact, she looked a real cocky bitch. ‘Thought you was up in Durham, Meadows?’
Vic laughed. ‘Ahh, yeah, you would like that, eh, Esme?’ The tone in her voice alone was provocation.
‘Get back to your cells, recreation is over!’ screamed Barbara. Really, she was nervous because the two hardest women in the prison system were now face-to-face, and there would be a riot, if she didn’t clear the area before getting Esme Lonergan, an Irish tinker, into her cell.
Kara was glued to the situation below and felt her stomach turn over. It was a sobering face-off, and the assembling crowd were enthralled by the two protagonists who were giving it large, every bit as much as watching two professional fighters at the prefight weigh-in.
The crowd reluctantly dispersed, when it became clear the prison officers had the situation under control. As Esme was pulled away, Vic ran a finger along her throat. Kara shuddered. It was frightening to watch; there was so much hate here and now rumblings of real violence. So far, she’d been lucky, apart from the smack in the mouth from Colette, who was now licking her feet in adulation. Kara knew she was one of the lucky ones: so far, she’d never faced any serious brutality.
A few moments later, in walked Julie and Vic, their faces flushed with excitement. But Kara could see that they appeared agitated and Vic was breathing fast.
‘Who was that?’
‘That, my friend, is what’s known as a right royal cunt. Esme Lonergan is serving a life sentence for killing her own mother and slashing her daughter’s face. She is a psycho but not according to the shrinks. I have had my run-in with her.’ Vic lifted her top and turned around to reveal a nasty scar just below her rib cage. ‘She caught me a good ’un. Nearly killed me, the sly fucker.’
Kara had her hands over her mouth in shock. ‘She knifed you?’
Vic laughed. ‘Yep, make that twice now.’ She pulled down her tracksuit bottoms to show a long scar the length of her thigh.
Kara’s face went totally white and she had difficulty swallowing. Just as she thought she was coming to terms with life in prison, she experienced a glimpse of the real potential violence and it knocked her for six.
Vic gave Kara an encouraging smile. ‘Oh, don’t worry, she will get it from me, if she tries another stunt like she did before. I run this prison, not her, not here.’
Vic meant it too because three days later it all kicked off. Kara had taken herself to the showers; she had suffered all night with heartburn and night sweats and wanted nothing more than a warm shower to bring herself back to normal. With just a towel around her middle, she now felt confident enough to make her way to the bathrooms. A few nods and smiles along the way gave her a lift in her step and also in her mood. Unlike the first time she took a shower, when she was petrified knowing all eyes were on her and from hearing about the horrendous injuries inflicted on inmates in the cubicles, she was now able to take a more sanguine view of life in prison.
It stemmed from an inbuilt ability to assess the risks. Her safety was bolstered by influential inmates higher up the food chain than herself, and she had life-saving skills that the others could only dream of. So, on balance, things looked pretty good.
But on the negative side, she had been inside now for two months and it felt like years. Understanding the psyche of prisoners was helped by Vic an
d Julie, who, for some reason, enjoyed teaching Kara about their world whilst learning about Kara’s. Drug abuse was rife in Larkview, as elsewhere in the world of prisons. She learned that having a steady supply of any illegal substance gave a prisoner credence and power. Obviously, she didn’t have access to that source. However, what she did have – and what the others didn’t – was medical knowledge. In the currency of prison life, that was priceless.
Identifying the drug addicts was easy: their gaunt faces, sunken eyes, and nervous twitches, along with the scars from self-harming, gave them away. Sadly, many were victims of their upbringing due to their weak personalities or child abuse. The only correlation to her own experience of incarceration was at boarding school, where she had to stay there, even though she didn’t want to. However, circumstances at the time deemed boarding school to be the best option – well, so her mother professed.
Most of the women had already gone to their jobs, so it was the ideal time for Kara to take her shower. However, when she arrived, one of the showers was already occupied. As she turned her shower on to feel the warm massaging sprinkles of water, she felt an uneasy prickling sensation. She rotated to find another occupant almost on her toes, and as she looked up, her eyes focused on the grim shape of Esme Lonergan. Esme had one of those faces that was the stuff of nightmares – and that was if you caught her on one of her good days. Her deep-set eyes were cold, almost lifeless, and yet her cruel smirk and threatening stance scared the shit out of Kara.
Quickly glancing to her left, she prayed that someone else would be there. There was no one – just Esme and herself. Nervously, she let the bar of soap slip through her fingers. It made her jump as it hit the floor. Esme’s smirk turned to a lip-curling grin. ‘Well, pick it up, or someone will slip and break their neck, and you sure wouldn’t want it to be you, would you now? Not in your condition.’ She looked at Kara’s neat bump.