Deceit

by KERRY BARNES

  Kara ran her hands over her belly, feeling a new unfound fear and an inner sense of protection. She couldn’t bend down and pick up the soap because she would have to take her eyes off Esme. She had to protect her unborn baby, whatever the cost. The images of Vic and Esme’s alarming standoff whirled around in her head. Esme was ruthless with a stance and look that held no conscience or remorse.

  ‘Pick it up, I said!’ yelled Esme, twisting her head to the side like some nutter. She stepped forward and yelled again, this time in Kara’s ear. ‘I said, pick … it … up!’ Her words were spat through gritted teeth.

  So close was Esme’s face that Kara could smell the stale odour of cigarettes and what seemed like the evil taste on her breath. In a panic, Kara tried to flee, but Esme’s hand slammed her face against the cold white tiles. She felt her cheek smash and she yelped. ‘Please, let me go,’ she snivelled, terrified the woman would really hurt her in some malicious manner.

  ‘You go back to that fecking whore, Vic, with a message from me!’ Without warning, she snatched a clump of Kara’s hair, pulled her away from the wall, and rammed her face into it again, but this time, it was so hard that Kara’s legs buckled, and her attacker, with a swift, violent, and unforgiving kick, landed her foot into Kara’s stomach.

  ‘Nooo!’ screamed Kara, clutching her abdomen. Slumped on the floor, she curled into a ball to protect herself, but then came the next kick, harder than the last. Kara could only think of one thing and that was to scream. And she did. She filled her lungs and opened her mouth, letting out a guttural, blood-curdling holler. Again, she screamed, as loudly as she could, and when she finally opened her eyes, Esme was gone.

  Racked with fear and pain, she sobbed, rocking on the cold shower floor, as the water continued to pour. Too afraid to get up, she watched as the blood from her wounded face diluted to a pink colour and swirled around the drain. ‘Please be okay, baby, please don’t die, you’re all I have,’ she whispered in despair.

  The screams were so loud now that everyone in the vicinity came running, including Colette. Instantly, she was by Kara’s side. ‘Fucking ’ell, Posh, what happened? Are you all right?’ She stood back up and turned the shower off but seriously struggled to help Kara to her feet. Two officers arrived. As they moved Colette aside, a crowd of onlookers were all trying to see what had happened. Officer Brent, a seasoned screw, who mothered everyone, was the first to offer support. ‘It’s okay, Kara, don’t move. Pass me a towel someone.’ Colette found the towel on the floor and handed it to the officer. ‘Is she gonna be okay, Gov?’

  Barbara was standing there like a wet weekend. ‘Get back to your cells! Bannon is fine, nothing to bloody see!’ she yelled.

  Colette, however, didn’t move; instead, she bent down beside Brent and tried to help Kara stand, but as soon as Kara turned her head to look up, Colette gasped.

  ‘For God’s sake, Connor, get out of my way,’ screamed Barbara, before she radioed through for help.

  ‘Listen, Kara, you are going to be okay. Just take a few deep breaths and we’ll see if we can get you to your feet,’ whispered Brent.

  The shock had hit Kara hard and she began to shake violently. Sharp pains gripped her stomach, and as she attempted to get up, she doubled over. ‘Oh, no, no, my baby, please help me!’

  Colette had run into Dora’s cell, grabbed her blanket, and hurried back, trying to put it around Kara. As their eyes met, Kara saw the fear and compassion staring back. She stopped moving and grabbed Colette’s arm. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, before she doubled over again, the pain ripping through her.

  ‘Shall I get Vic?’ Colette asked, as she looked up at Brent.

  But Barbara was quick to intervene. ‘Certainly not. Get back to your cell, or I’ll have you on report.’

  Colette stepped back, looking hurt. She’d only wanted to help. She felt for Kara because the same thing had happened to her, only back then, the officers had done bugger-all to help and had just left her all night locked up for her to miscarry down the toilet alone and frightened. She was damn sure it wouldn’t happen to Kara.

  Ignoring the warning, she hurried down the flight of stairs and then along the recreation room before entering the laundry room where she was almost blinded by the steam from the industrial steamers. ‘Vic!’ she screamed. ‘Vic, where are ya? Kara’s been beaten up! She might lose the baby!’ Fortunately, the steam cleared and there in front of her were Deni, Vic, and a druggie called Vivienne.

  ‘You what? Where is she?’

  Colette was out of breath. ‘Upstairs … in the showers … her face … it’s a hell of a mess. She … is holding her stomach … I think … she’s gonna have a miscarriage,’ she gasped, as her breathing returned to normal.

  Vic lifted the lid on the steamer and hurried past Colette and took the stairs two at a time. But, by the time she reached the showers, the area had been cleared. She spun on her heels to face Colette behind her. ‘Who did it, Cole? I want a name!’

  With a shrug of her shoulders, Colette replied, ‘I dunno. I was in Dora’s cell, when I heard this horrible scream, and when I got here, she was on the floor.’

  Barbara had cleared the wing, but as soon as Kara was led away, the inmates all came back out.

  ‘I wanna know who the fuck did that to Kara?’

  Deni was way behind the rest of them. Like Colette, she too was puffed out. ‘Where’s Posh?’

  ‘Gone to medical. They may have taken her to hospital,’ replied Colette.

  ‘Well, ya know who did it, don’t ya?’ said Deni, with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. ‘It was that scumbag Esme, ’cos unless one of the junkies lost the plot, that kid has no enemies …’ She glared at the gathered crowd. ‘Unless one of youse can tell me any different?’

  Vic took a deep breath. ‘Let’s hope Posh ain’t told the screws who did her in, ’cos they will have her on watch. They know full well this won’t get brushed under the carpet, not all the while I have a head on me fucking shoulders and fire in me belly.’

  Dawn Leonard, a woman in her late forties, convicted of setting up one of the biggest skunk farms in the country, screwed her face up. ‘Tell me, Vic, ’cos it’s puzzled me for ages now. Why do you look out for this Posh bird?’

  Deni, Vic, and Colette gave Dawn a dirty glare. But it was Deni who answered her. ‘Because, like me, you, and most of us, we deserve all the crap we have to put up with in this shit-hole, but that kid doesn’t. She wasn’t cut out for this life. She’s never done no one any harm. She helps us when that cranky quack is fucking useless, and she has no one. You, though, Dawn, you ’ave it all. Ya have your fancy clothes, ya own bedding brought in, visitors’ letters, and enough fucking gear so you can sleep at night. That kid has fuck-all. No family, no friends, and she never asks for nothing. I have always been a fair woman, as well you fucking know, and she didn’t deserve any beatin’, so either you are wiv us, Dawn, or you can sign ya own death warrant, along with the bitch that beat Kara.’

  The warning was harsh and heartfelt. Dawn never wanted to upset Deni; the repercussions were just not worth it. She nodded. ‘I never said … what I mean is, I just wondered, nothing more, and I’m wiv ya. You’re right, she didn’t deserve that.’ Dawn slunk away with her head down. Deni had a point. She did have family and money. Her cell was like a luxury fitted bedroom, with her own bedding from Harrods and curtains to match, and her stash of designer clothes was a sight to behold. And a big plus, she had regular contact with her family.

  With that thought in mind, she decided to help in any way she could. Under her bed was another set of bedding and a few new sweatshirts not even out of their cellophane packets. She pulled out a big bag and filled it with whatever she could and headed over to Kara’s cell. Vic was sitting on Julie’s bed, smoking a roll-up, when Dawn appeared, looking a tad sheepish. She raised her eyebrow. ‘Got any news, Dawn, like, who did it?’

  Solemn-faced, Dawn shook her head. ‘Nah, but Deni was right, and I though
t Kara might like a few bits. The kid’s got fuck-all, and well, I’ve got enough.’

  With an approving nod, Vic took a deep drag on her roll-up. ‘A guilt trip, I’m guessing?’

  Dawn shot Vic a reproachful sideways glance. ‘Er, no, I just thought about what Deni said, that’s all. I had nothing to do with it. Ya know that, surely?’

  In a flash, Vic was off the bed, with Dawn’s chin gripped between her fingers. ‘That’s exactly what I meant, you long streak of piss. But it looks to me that you just put yaself in the frame. So, before I ring your neck like a fucking rooster, you’d better start talking.’ She removed her grip on Dawn, but glared, waiting for an answer.

  Flicking her eyes to the door, Dawn contemplated bolting, but it would be no use. Esme didn’t have enough backup and Vic had a small army of wannabe soldiers. ‘Look, Vic, it weren’t like that, I swear, right? Esme collared me in me cell, wanting to know stuff. I didn’t say anything except—’

  She didn’t have a chance to finish. Vic grabbed Dawn’s hair, pulling her to the ground. ‘What the fuck did you tell her?’ she snarled. Her tone was enough to put the fear of God in the woman.

  It was no use. Dawn was caught between a rock and a hard place. ‘I just said that Posh was like your little sister, that’s all.’

  ‘And why would you say that?’ Vic asked, as she went for the woman again, clenching her face in a vicelike grip.

  ‘Ahh, let go, please, you’re hurting me! She just asked who she was, nothing more, I swear, Vic. Please, let go. I don’t want no trouble. I ain’t getting involved.’

  Releasing her grip, Vic spat in Dawn’s face. ‘You slimy bitch. Ain’t you learned to keep ya mouth shut, eh?’

  Dawn slid herself up the wall. She was seriously petrified now. Esme was hard, but the combined threat of these nutters was scaring her more. ‘She had a blade at me throat, but I promise, Vic, that’s all I said.’

  Sitting back on the bed, Vic glared. ‘A blade, yeah?’

  Dawn was nodding so fast, it was a wonder her head didn’t fall off. ‘Yeah, about four inches. Watch yaself, Vic. She’s after your blood.’

  As she flared her nostrils and narrowed her eyes, Vic wondered if it was worth grassing or taking on Esme herself. Grassing went against the grain, on every level, but then, she had her little sister to think of as well. Either way, she would have to have it out with Esme once and for all – it was a case of calling a truce or beating the mad bitch to death.

  * * *

  The ambulance arrived at the prison to take Kara to hospital. The senior officer had insisted because she knew that there would be serious consequences, if Kara was given less than the best treatment. She was too much in the know, when it came down to medical dos and don’ts. Brent was well informed that the regular doctor they had in the prison was as useless as an ejector seat in a helicopter, so she called it in and would make her case to the number one governor tomorrow, if arranging the ambulance was an issue.

  She decided personally to escort Kara. She wouldn’t leave it to Barbara; she never liked that woman anyway. The paramedics took charge whilst Melanie Brent stayed back. She stared at the look of complete despair on Kara’s face. Her polite ways and soft nature had been noted by all the officers, especially George, who made sure he popped in to see her on a regular basis. They had thought at first that he had the hots for her, but as time went by, Melanie realised Kara just wasn’t like the other inmates, and so his careful watch over her was warranted.

  ‘I can’t lose this baby, I can’t …’ Her voice was trailing off, as she sucked on the gas and air.

  One of the paramedics, a young thickset woman, patted her arm. ‘You may not be miscarrying; it may be a shock. Just try to relax, and we will get you seen to as soon as possible.’

  Kara pulled the mask away from her face, revealing the black bruise and wounds to her bloodshot eyes. She looked at Officer Brent. ‘Thank you, Gov, I’m so grateful.’

  Melanie felt the urge to cry. Even though she’d become so hardened to prison life, she was taken aback by the state of the poor young woman. ‘Hey, it’s okay. Tell me, Kara, who did this to you?’

  Kara gently shook her head. ‘I slipped.’

  Melanie knew damn well this was not the case but decided not to push it. ‘Look, is there anyone you would like me to call? I have my mobile on me.’ Brent was breaking all the rules, but she didn’t care. Kara didn’t deserve this treatment.

  Again, Kara shook her head and a sudden tear pricked her eye. Justin should be here with her. She had tried so hard to hate him, but deep down, no matter how much she was sickened by what he’d done, she couldn’t stop loving him. ‘It’s ironic. Justin, my partner, left me because he was having a baby with another woman, and there I was, already expecting, and he didn’t even know it.’ She sucked hard again on the gas and air.

  Melanie reached across and held Kara’s hand. ‘Does he know now?’

  ‘No, there’s no point. He’ll be setting up home with her and their child. He doesn’t want me because he’s never even sent a letter, nothing at all, so I suppose he’s moved on without giving me a second thought. I loved him, you know. I mean, I really loved him so much, and all I have now, God willing, is his baby. I can’t lose this as well.’

  ‘You won’t, you’ll be fine. Look, you’re not in pain now, are you?’ Melanie smiled.

  Kara blinked and took a deep breath. ‘Er, no, actually, the pain has stopped.’

  ‘Aw, let’s pray, it was just a bruise, shall we,’ said Melanie, kindly.

  Childless herself, Melanie was over the age of childbearing and had wished she hadn’t been so into her work that the potential fruitful time had just flown by. She’d yearned for a child for many years, and now she longed for the well-being of Kara’s baby. ‘What will you name your baby?’

  ‘Well, if it’s a boy, I don’t have a family name because I never knew my father, and I’m not sure I would want to name my baby after him anyway. I couldn’t bear to call him Justin. It would hurt too much, and, well, I don’t have a name either for a girl. Perhaps, nearer the time, I’ll think of something sweet.’

  The ambulance came to a stop and the paramedics eagerly helped Kara from the back of the ambulance, careful to be gentle, lowering her down in the lift. Luckily, the ultrasound suite wasn’t busy, so she was wheeled in and seen to right away. Melanie held her hand. To the radiologist, this looked strange, seeing an officer and an inmate acting as though they were best friends. She poured the gel over Kara’s small bump, and after a few minutes, she sighed, but the look on her face said it all. ‘Kara, you have nothing to worry about. Your little girl is doing just fine.’

  ‘A girl, oh, my goodness, a little girl!’ Instantaneously, the floodgates opened, and the tears flowed down Kara’s face; it was relief and heartache all at once. This should be Justin holding her hand, watching their tiny baby girl on the screen. She was real: she was hers, wriggling around.

  After allowing Kara to cry and get it all out of her system, Melanie helped her off the bed. ‘You know what, Kara? I think God was watching over you.’

  After her eyebrow was glued back together and her face cleaned up, Melanie escorted Kara to the awaiting prison van that had followed them behind the ambulance. George was in the driver’s seat. ‘All good?’ he anxiously asked.

  Melanie winked. ‘Yes, the baby is okay. Kara is shaken up, stitched up, and is now ready for her bed.’

  Chapter 8

  As the sun streamed through the kitchen window, Justin swallowed his bitter coffee and remained silent, ignoring Lucy’s comment. He had run out of excuses for not taking Lucy along to meet his mother.

  ‘Justin, look at me, I’m not getting any smaller. This bump is your mother’s grandchild. How long will this go on for? Are you going to wait until he starts school before you spring it on her?’

  Spinning around, he faced her and rolled his eyes. She was getting big, and she did have a point, but he was being ground down by all the wh
ining. There were still days when he found he was thinking about Kara and comparing both women. Kara never moaned. She would even take herself off to the spare room, if she was unwell, so as not to make him miserable. Lucy’s negative attitude, particularly her rudeness to other people, was wearing thin. His mother’s words were popping into his mind. ‘Son, judge people on how they treat others.’

  Lucy was impatient and downright bitchy at times. The waiter, the gas man, and even the poor woman who lived in the basement flat below received a smart remark when she accidentally dropped her black sack of rubbish and it spilled onto the pavement, just as they were about to get into the car a few days ago. Lillian was in her late seventies, and not so nimble on her feet, and he could see she was riddled with arthritis, yet Lucy had to have a go.

  ‘Watch what you’re doing, you silly woman!’ she snapped. Justin was mortified and raised his hands to mouth the word ‘sorry’ whilst he hurried over and helped the old dear retrieve the rubbish and place it in the big bin. Lucy was already moaning in the car. ‘You shouldn’t have to help her. I’m sure she has sons to do all that. Now, we’re going to be late.’ At that point, Justin knew he had to get back out of the car and go inside before he said something he would regret. Once again, Lucy was hanging on to his shirt-tails, crying and blaming her hormones.

  Now, a few weeks later, they were drinking coffee in the kitchen. Justin had had a bellyful of Lucy’s pleading and whining. ‘Okay, okay, Lucy, I’ll call her today and make arrangements for you to meet her, if, of course, she wants to meet you—’

  Unable to even let him finish the sentence, Lucy jumped in, ‘What do you mean, “if”? Why on earth would she not? I’m having her grandson. I’m a person, you know, not just a bloody oven. Besides, she can’t honestly have any feeling for your bloody ex. Christ, Justin, that woman burned your house down, and nearly—’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Justin interjected, ‘and nearly killed the neighbour. How many more times are you going to say it?’

  Pulling her fluffy pink dressing gown tighter around her big bump, she sneered, ‘Well, I just think no one seems to get the seriousness of what she did. You act as if it was nothing, but, Justin, until that house is bloody built, we will have to live in this cramped flat that you can barely swing a cat in. If she’d not been such a firebug, then we would be in there now decorating our son’s bedroom.’