by Marian Phair
“Well, why don’t you go in and try it on, that won’t cost you anything. I’ll get a photo of you in it, on my mobile phone when no one’s looking.”
“Do you think we should?” Ruth’s eyes sparkled at the thought.
“Why not? Anything would be better than standing out here, in the cold wind, watching you drool over a dress.” Mary walked over to the shop door, and held it open. “Come on then, the assistant is glaring at me for letting the cold air in.”
Ruth, hurried inside her heart racing with excitement. Mary went up to the counter where the frosty faced assistant stood at ramrod attention. Several inches taller than Mary, she looked down her nose at Mary’s jean clad figure. Taking in the knitted baggy sweater, washed denim jeans tucked into scuffed brown suede boots, a look of distaste on her face, as she asked, “Can I help you, madam?”
“I would like to try on that red dress in the window,” Mary said, as Ruth hung back.
“I’m afraid that is the only one we have madam, and it’s a size fourteen. If you’ll forgive me for saying, you look larger than a fourteen,” She said, in a haughty tone.
“It’s for my friend here, not for me. She doesn’t speak very good English, she was raised by missionaries in Papua New Guinea, she only speaks Papuan. Do you speak Tok Pisin?” she asked the assistant, who looked mortified as she shook her head.
“Don’t worry, I speak it like a native, I’ll act as translator,” Mary told her.
Mary spun around to face Ruth, and almost burst out laughing at the look on Ruth’s face. She slyly ran a finger across her mouth, and pressed her lips together tightly to let Ruth know she must remain silent, and let her do the talking. She pointed first to the red dress on the stand in the window, and then at Ruth.
“Nim chan chu, gobble guk?” Mary winked at Ruth. Ruth nodded her head.
“She would like to try it on please,” She told the assistant, then glancing at the gold rimmed name badge, pinned to the assistant’s chest, she added politely, “Sophie.”
Sophie moved over to the window, unsure of what to make of the strange couple wishing to try on the dress, but a sale was a sale, and she would get an extra ten per cent of the price for the sale. She removed the dress from the stand, and laid it carefully across Ruth’s arm, smiling ingratiatingly as she did so.
“Your friend can try the dress on in that cubicle over there.” She pointed with a scarlet nailed finger, to a curtained off cubicle on the left.
“Dum ding dong, she, um, fatty hard arsed heifer,” Mary said to Ruth.
“U m, dim poop, yum am tack um piss,” Ruth startled Mary by saying, as she quickly pulled the curtain across to hide the fact she was laughing.
Ruth wasted no time in getting stripped to her thong. She carefully slipped the gown over her head enjoying the sensual feel of the soft velvet brushing against her naked flesh. She pulled up the side zip, and adjusted the strapless bodice over her naked breasts, and immediately felt her nippled harden. Smoothing the gown down over her hips she stood gazing at her reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that. She couldn’t believe how sexy she looked. The velvet gown clung to her curves like a second skin, accentuating the fullness of her breasts, and her neat rounded buttocks.
How she longed for Scott to see her now, to make love to him while he watched her through the mirror as she pressed herself against him, fondling, licking and kissing him all over, wearing her beautiful red, velvet gown. Ruth was brought sharply back out of her reverie by Sophie’s voice asking Mary if she would check to see if her friend needed help with the dress.
Mary popped her head around the curtain. Through the mirror Ruth watched as Mary’s jaw dropped in amazement, she gave a low whistle and stepped inside.
“Wow! Girlfriend, you have got to buy this dress, it was made just for you.” Forgetting all about the ‘gobbledegook’ she had been fooling around with.
“You’re forgetting something Mary, I can’t afford it. I have a grand total of fifty pounds in my savings. This dress costs eighty five pounds, and I’m thirty five pounds short.” Ruth spoke to Mary’s reflection in the mirror.
“Damn it, you don’t have to spell things out for me, I can do the maths,” Mary told her. “I’ll lend you the difference. Oh, what the hell, I’ll give you the money, consider it an early birthday present from John and me.”
Sophie’s refection appeared in the mirror, beside theirs. “Is everything alright madam?”
“Yes, thank you,” Ruth told her. “Now if you ladies will excuse me, I’d like to get dressed again.” Ruth reluctantly pulled down the side zip, as Sophie and Mary left her to change back into her own clothes. Sophie looked at Mary in amazement.
“I thought your friend couldn’t understand us? Her English is perfect.”
“She’s a quick learner.” Mary told the assistant. “We’ll take the dress. I don’t suppose you’ll knock anything off for cash?”
“I’m sorry madam, but the dress has already been reduced, and we only deal in cash anyway.” Sophie gave Mary a withering look, disgruntled at being made a fool of.
“I thought I detected a small hole around the top of the bodice, more than one in fact,”
Mary told the assistant as she tried to get more discount for Ruth’s purchase.
“That is part of the design; you can thread a fine chiffon scarf through the holes to drape down at the back, giving the gown a choice of two looks for the price.”
Mary poked her fingers through to the two cigarette burns in her wollen sweater.
“That’s a unique design too, and so are the small wine stains on the sleeve, it gives the item a certain rustic charm, and was quite expensive to produce,” She said cheekily.
Ruth handed the dress to the assistant and thanked her for letting her try it on.
“I’ve told Sophie we are buying the dress,” Mary said.
“But I…”
“No buts,” Mary interrupted her. We’re taking this dress with us and that’s that.”
“My savings are in the bank, Mary, I don’t have the cash on me. I only have the housekeeping money from Father Patrick.”
“Well I’ll pay for it, and when you get to the bank, you can pay me back half.”
“Half?…but that’s only forty two pounds fifty,” Ruth told her.
“Wow! The girl can count,” Mary mocked. “Do you think I’m that heartless that I would empty your saving account?”
With tear-filled eyes, Ruth gave her friend a hug, and thanked her for her generosity. They watched as Sophie carefully packed the gown in a box; covered it with tissue paper, and tied a fancy bow around the lid. Ruth hugged the box to her chest as they left the shop. Mary called back to Sophie who had resumed her stance behind the counter. “Maybe you should learn to speak Tok Pisin, Sophie. You never know, you could get another Peruvian in your shop who can’t speak English.” The two women burst out laughing as they made their way down the high street.
Ruth hadn’t felt so light hearted in a long time, as they headed for the centre of town. “Can I leave my dress at your house for now, Mary? I’ll collect it before my birthday. I want to ask Scott if he will take me somewhere fancy and celebrate it with me. I can show off my dress then, and who knows what might happen.” Ruth winked at Mary. “If I take it back with me, Sally’s bound to find it. She’s always rummaging through my things.”
“Sure you can, no problem.” Mary never let on she knew that a party was planned for Ruth’s special day. Ruth looked absolutely stunning in the gown, and Mary knew if Ruth wore her hair up in a French twist, and applied some make-up, there wasn’t a woman in the whole county that could hold a candle to her in that red, velvet dress.
“Ding dong dum yum wa caw-fee um?” She asked Ruth, and then burst out laughing.
“If you’re asking me to go for a coffee, I think we should broaden our horizon. Let’s pop into the Nag’s Head and have a couple of Gin and tonics instead.”
“I’m all for that, and a pub lu
nch,” Mary said, hooking her arm through Ruth’s.
CHAPTER 43
Her Majesty’s Prison, Garrett, stood alone on open flatland on the South border between Buxton and Abbeville. A category, B prison, the Garrett, housed some of the counties most dangerous criminals. Many of its inmates were serving life sentences for murder and other heinous crimes. It was here in the Garrett that Roger Green, among others, was destined to end his days.
Basil Roger Green, was given the prison number AA2657, and told this six digit code was essential information for anyone on the outside, who may wish to contact him, and would appear on everything during his prison life. A prison officer escorted Roger to his cell after all the preliminaries had been completed. They passed cell after cell in the middle tier, eventually stopping at the last cell in the row. Sorting through the key clip on his duty belt the officer produced a large key, and unlocked the heavy metal door. He stood aside as Roger entered the cramped and dingy confined space of the cell.
A young man lay stretched out on the top bunk, his hands clasped behind his head, listening to music coming from a small radio. He sat up as the officer entered.
“This is to be your home now so get used to it,” the prison officer told Roger.
“Edwards, meet your new cell mate, Roger Green. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to get to know each other.” The officer left, and Roger flinched as the heavy metal door was slammed and locked behind him. The sound of the officer’s heavy boots echoed down the passageway as he walked away from the cell.
Roger looked around the dingy room that was to be his home until he went to meet his maker, and was dismayed by what he saw. The shared bunk bed didn’t appear to be long enough to accommodate his six foot two inch frame. There was a small cupboard, a kettle and a radio, and just a few feet away from where he stood, was a toilet with a push button flush, and a small sink. There was no possibility of any privacy. In this confined space the two men would have to eat, drink, sleep and go to the toilet, just a few feet away from each other, spending at least twenty one hours locked in together. The wall above the toilet had a small bar-covered window to the outside world, with heavy, wooden shutters used to block out the wind and rain.
“You’ll go daft in here unless you opt to join a class, or work in the kitchen or laundry,” Kevin Edwards told the hapless Roger, who found he couldn’t sit upright on the lower bunk, there just wasn’t enough headroom for him. The only other seat was the toilet, so Roger went and sat on that with his head in his hands.
“What did they get you for?” Kevin asked Roger.
“Murder, triple murder, I got life,” Roger murmured through his fingers.
“Yeah, me too, I‘m doing the same.” Kevin volunteered this information.
“I don’t mind swapping bunks with you, if that helps you any? I’m a good bit smaller than you,” he told him good naturedly.
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that,” Roger told him.
Over the next two hours, Kevin Edwards told Roger what life was like in the Garrett, who to watch out for, and what to expect from both prisoners, and staff.
“If any of the inmates ask you for stuff, tell them no, but say it ‘nicely’ so they don’t have a go at you,” Kevin advised him.
“What do you mean by ‘anything’?” Roger asked, beginning to panic. The officer who had issued him with his blanket and pillow, had left him with a parting remark.
“You’ll find out what your arse is for in here, mate!” He smiled displaying, dirty nicotine stained teeth, and his remark had scared the life out of Roger. He shuddered to think what could happen to him in prison. He had heard many a story of men being raped in their cells by other inmates.
“Well, they could ask you for food, cigarettes, money, sex, anything really. They are used to being refused, but its how you say ‘No,’ that counts. There are some nasty, mean buggers in here. They will do anything to earn themselves credit with the screws.”
Kevin jumped down from the top bunk. “Do you mind getting up off the can?”
he asked, “I want to take a piss.” Roger stood up and got out of his way, turning his back on Kevin, not wanting to witness him in the act of urinating. Funny, really, when he thought about it. When men found themselves using the public urinals at the same time, they had a habit of checking each other out as they tried to see if their urinating neighbour, had more to offer the ladies, than they had. Now he was too embarrassed to witness that act. Kevin flushed the toilet, and Roger noticed he made no attempt to wash his hands.
Taking up the conversation again, Kevin said, “Speaking of screws, there’s one here you need to watch out for, Officer Mark Johnson. Keep your back to the wall when he’s around, and make sure he never gets you on your own in the showers, you’ll take one up the arse if he does and there’s nothing you can say or do about it. You can’t miss him, he about six-four, weighs about twenty stone, as bald as a coot, has three chins, and two bloody big warts on his right cheek. I reckon he only became a prison screw so he could get his end away with the inmates, especially lifer’s like you and me. No woman would go with him that’s for sure. He’s so ugly; his mother must have fed him with a sling-shot when he was growing up!”
“What do you do in here?” Roger asked the youth.
“Me? I joined an art class, gets me out of the cell, and I enjoy daubing a bit of paint on a canvas. They’ll open this cell at eight thirty in the morning for me to attend class. Some blokes go to the gym, but if you don’t attend a class, or work, you’ll stay banged up until the two hour association period. You’ll have to come back to your cell to eat, unless you work in the kitchen, then you’ll be allowed to eat outside the cell, under guard of course.”
“What was that bell I heard ringing when they bought me in here?” Roger asked, eager to find out all he could as quickly as possible, if it meant making he’s life easier here.
“They ring that bell at the end of the two hours association, and you’ll be told to go back to your cell. You won’t get out again until it’s time for evening meal. Once you’ve collected it, you’ll come back here to eat, and that’s it until the next day!”
They swapped bunks, and Roger finally got to stretch out his aching limbs, suddenly realising, just how tired he really was. He couldn’t understand how someone as young as Kevin Edwards, could accept that these four walls, would be his home for the next sixty or seventy years…life without parole, for both of them.
Roger put that question to Kevin, wondering how he managed to cope with prison life.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend on the outside, or someone you love and miss?”
“Not anymore. That’s the main reason I’m in here,” Kevin told him. “Now there’s only me and my mum. I’m all she’s got. That’s the only thing that makes me really sad, what I’ve put my mum through; she didn’t deserve to go through that heartache.
I did wrong; I deserve to be punished for my crimes.”
“You’re very philosophical,” Roger told him.
“I don’t know what that means,” Kevin said. “But I do know one thing for sure.”
“What’s that?”
“If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.” Kevin yawned, and stretched.
“I’m going to get me some shut-eye, I’m knackered,” he told Roger.
“I’m not going to be able to do the time, Kevin. I’ll have to find a way out of this life. Goodnight, kid.”
Roger lay awake listening to Kevin snoring, and knew he would have to find a way to end his miserable life; no way could he survive life here in HMP the Garrett.
Despite the hard lumpy mattress, a few minutes later, he too, fell fast asleep.
A mere three days later the decision to end his life was taken out of his hands.
The special mail bag had been delivered to HM Prison in Buxton on that fateful day. Inside the Garrett, the Sniffer dogs went about their job, sniffing over the mail as they searched for any traces of illegal drugs, being sent in fro
m the outside; when no drugs were detected, the mail was allowed through to be sorted. Later that day the sorted mail was delivered by the prison guards as they walked down the tiers to the cells. The last cell on the middle tier was unlocked, and the guard handed a small cardboard box to Roger Green. The box had been opened and inspected, as was the custom.
“Someone out there must think we’re starving you in here, Green. They’ve sent you some toasted marshmallows, don’t worry they’re all there, no one’s eaten any on you. My dog don’t like ‘em and I’m on a diet. Enjoy.” He locked the door behind him.
“You lucky old devil, you,” Kevin exclaimed. “I love toasted marshmallows, its ages since I had any.” He eyed the box in Rogers’s hand.
“You’re welcome to share them with me,” Roger told him.
“There’s six in here, I’ll split them with you, we’ll have three each, along with a cuppa, you stick the kettle on.”
Their bodies were found the next morning by the guard unlocking their cell.
He raised the alarm, and his ears were filled with the sound of running feet and the clanging of heavy metal doors as the officer’s shouted out orders, and locked the inmates back in their cells. He remained by the cell door while he waited for help to arrive, the sprawled out bodies of the two dead men, just feet away from where he stood.
The empty cardboard box on the floor caught his attention, a tiny corner was torn away, and he could see note paper poking through.
Removing two, blue, latex gloves from his belt pouch, he swiftly put them on,
then bent down and picked up the box. As he tore away the packing, the scrap of paper fluttered to the floor. Picking it up, he looked closely at the small, printed letters, he could just make out what was written.
‘Killed…Two jailbirds, with one stone.’
Fate had brought these two serial killers together, and now they were united in death!
The officer’s hands started to tremble, and his heart beat faster as he noticed that the base of the box looked to be about three inches deep, while the top layer that had held the marshmallows appeared to be only one inch deep. Feeling around the inside of the box, his fingers detected a small bulge under a very thin layer of card.