by KERRY BARNES
“Jesse, shut up for a minute and listen to me. I ain’t sending you cash each week to stick it up your fucking hooter. That money is to get my kids some decent clothes. Look at the fucking state of them. I’m warning you, Jesse! The next time I see them, I want them looking smart and I fucking mean it!” His voice got louder. The screws would normally approach an inmate and ask him to keep the noise down, or escort him off the visit, but they knew he was right and left him to it.
With that, Jesse jumped up from her seat, grabbed the kids and headed for the door.
Without any pride, she shouted, “Fuck you, Sam. Stick your measly pennies where the sun don’t shine. You won’t see your fucking kids again!”
Sam put his head in his hands and silently cried.
The other visitors watched in disgust. Billy O’Connell was a lifer on Sam’s wing and watched as Jesse left. He knew where she lived, since Billy had come from the same manor. It was his time to get in with the Vincents; he wanted a piece of what they’d got. He whispered to his new girlfriend, “See that bitch? Do you see her about?”
She nodded. “Yeah, she lives on the estate, a junkie she is.”
“Pay her a visit, make sure the kids aren’t around, and give her a fucking good kicking. Evil cunt, she is.”
“Yeah, no problem, Bill, but why are you getting involved?” Julie bit her lip and no sooner had the words left her mouth he was on her.
Through gritted teeth, he spat, “You fucking women are too fucking nosey. Just do as I say.” Then he gently kissed her on the lips. “There you go, my sweetheart. Now, don’t say who it’s from or why, just give her a decent clump. I want you to keep an eye on her for me, all right?”
Julie nodded again. This time she kept her mouth shut. She could have a good fight herself and so the likes of Jesse weren’t a worry for her.
Sam had gone back to the wing, deflated. He looked forward to his visits with the children. But a shiver ran through him as he remembered the cold, evil look on Jesse’s face. How could she do this to him? He was the one who was serving time for her.
He sat on the lower bunk bed in his cell and was surprised to find that Billy O’Connell had followed him in.
“All right, Bill. What’s up?” His voice flat, he wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
“All right, Sam. I came for a chat.”
“Sorry, mate, no offence but I wanna be alone.”
Billy took up the whole doorway. Sam almost laughed. He was a funny-looking man with a huge body, a small bald head, and no neck.
Ignoring Sam’s comment, Billy sat himself next to him.
“I know how ya feel, mate. I been there meself.”
Sam turned to face him. He wasn’t mates with Billy. There wasn’t a connection. It just happened that Billy was on the same wing, serving the last lap of his sentence.
“S’pose they are talking about me?” He nodded towards the landing, suggesting the wing was having a good gossip.
“Nah, mate. I saw her on the visit, but don’t worry. Me missus is gonna give her a slap,” stated Billy.
Sam digested those words before he stood up. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, getting involved in my business?”
Billy had a reputation for throwing people off the balconies – after he had given them a good hiding. So he was surprised that Sam had so much front. He jumped to his feet to be on guard, since he also knew that Sam and his brothers could have a tear up.
Sam was nodding his head and flaring his nostrils. The anger was welling up. Billy could feel the tension and sensed at any second it would go off. He moved away from the bed and stood firm, facing Sam.
Sam stared for a while and then he threw his head back and laughed until the tears rolled. Bill didn’t know what to make of him.
“You crafty fucking bastard. I ain’t stupid. Think I’m gonna owe you anything, Billy No Neck? Think on. You fucking muppet!”
Billy’s eyes widened. He felt humiliated and by now there was an audience. The loud laugh drew attention, since there wasn’t too much aggro these days.
“As if I would have you, a fucking thug, sort out any of my problems. Don’t you think that I could have the slag dead and buried if I wanted?” His expression was serious again.
Billy watched Sam’s demeanor change from one extreme to the other. A sure sign of madness.
“I know what you’re after and, if you think I would have you anywhere near my clubs, you can dream on. Now, do yourself a huge favour and get out of my face.” Sam was calm now. He had said what he needed to say and then turned to face the small window, heavily barred.
Billy was still in shock. He couldn’t believe that Sam, who was usually quiet, had just coated him. There were a few muffled comments and then the wing cleared. The only screw in the prison given respect was Mick, who was seen as consistently fair and approachable. After he moved the spectators on, he put his head around the corner to see Sam with his back to Billy. Not a good position to be in. Mick had witnessed Billy frequently, over the years, batter people near to death, and he didn’t want Sam to end up the same way.
“All right, lads?” he said, with a soft tone to his voice.
Sam spun around. He was well mannered and had respect for his elders. Now in his thirties, he was he was a kind and caring man and always very courteous to everyone. Mick liked Sam. He knew he was serving time for his bird. Most drug pushers were dabbling in drugs themselves, but everyone knew Sam was clean.
“Hello, Mick, sorry for the noise, only Billy and I got a bit excited over something, that’s all.”
Billy glared: he was still not sure whether to give him a good kicking or try to reason with him. A fight was easier than reasoning, since all his life he had just taken what he wanted, with brute force if needed. Right now, he was on edge. He was due for parole and didn’t want trouble but Sam had also pissed him off. His intentions were sussed out and he hated looking the fool.
Mick flicked his head, a gesture for Billy to leave. Sam expected Billy to indicate he would have him later but, to his surprise, he left without a word or a sneer.
“So, then, Sam, I heard about your visit.” Sam shook his head and plonked himself on the bed.
“Look, son, this happens a lot. I see it all the time, and you know what? They find it hard on the outside, when their ol’ man’s banged up. It ain’t easy for ‘em. She’ll be on the next visit. Give her time. She’ll have a twinge of guilt and be up ‘ere, kids an’ all.” His words were kind.
“Thank you, Mick. I needed to hear that. I miss me children.”
Mick rubbed Sam’s shoulder. “No problem, but a word of warning. Keep away from Billy. He’s a nasty piece of work.”
Sam smiled. He wasn’t the least bit bothered by Billy O’Connell.
The prison’s lock up time was nine o’clock and Sam was for once looking forward to the blackness. He lay awake, waiting for the last inmate to be silent, and he thought about how he would get his children and leave the country. Take them far away from England. He would go to his sister in the States and start a new life. As the hours ticked by, his body ached from tiredness and his mind went to a dark place. He visualised taking Jesse by the throat and strangling her until her lips turned blue and the vessels in her eyes burst. He saw her foaming at the mouth and her lips curling at the edges as the life left her body. Then he saw his children: with black and blue rope marks on their skin and bottles taped to their mouths. Suddenly, he gasped for breath and sat upright. He was sweating and his heart was pounding. He realised he had been having a nightmare, but it was so vivid. His children in the dream looked too real, with their tiny, round faces and big eyes with that look of terror in them. He cried – from frustration, bitterness and anger.
The mail arrived. As usual, there were letters from his family and a couple from some old friends. As he read the letter from his mother, his anger turned to blind fury.
Dear Sammy,
I managed to see Jack and Ruby today. They were pl
aying on the estate. I’m so glad they recognised me. It was so cold and they didn’t have a coat between them.
Sammy, I don’t know what she does with all that money you give her but it ain’t spent on clothes for the little ones. Anyway, not to worry, I went to Arding and Hobbs. They have a lovely kiddies department and I bought them coats, jumpers, boots, socks etc. I gave them to Jesse. I was hoping that she would let me have the kids for the weekend but she said she was taking them to the museum.
I do miss you and I miss those babies, they look so much like you and Fred and Francesca.
Anyway send a VO for next week and me and your dad will come up.
Take care, son
Love, Mum x
Sam looked at the date of the letter. It was sent the day before Jesse’s visit. He couldn’t believe that even though his own mother had bought them new clothes, they were still in rags. The fucking bitch had sold them, just like she sold all the kids’ things. He tried to calm down but his whole body shook.
Billy O’Connell had lain in his bed, getting angrier by the minute. He had never been humiliated like that and he would not take it. After all, he’d seen it as a favour and he shouldn’t have been snubbed.
As Sam got up from his bed, Billy appeared in the doorway. He slipped inside and shut the door. Sam knew Billy was about to start. Sam looked at Billy’s hands and spotted the fat, sausage-like fingers wrapped around a blade. He was so angry he didn’t care, blade or no blade. If Billy wanted a straightener, then that’s what he would get.
Unbeknown to Billy, Sam and his brothers all held a deep anger, which was one of the reasons why they all went to the gym – to try to keep a lid on their temper. The lid was about to be lifted. Sam was fit, his body was trim, with not an ounce of fat, and he had the height at six foot three. Billy was heavy, and a punch from him could crack a cheek bone in half, but his size slowed him down.
Billy gripped the blade tightly and took a deep breath. He was often out of breath these days. The doctor suggested that he lost weight, but he liked to look heavy.
Sam gave a sarcastic grin, almost laughing at him.
“What’s up, Billy, not man enough to do me with your bare hands? Need a little weapon, I see?” Sam was goading him.
“I’ll fuck you up blade or no blade, but I wanna make sure you’re fucking hurt bad. Think you can take the piss out of me and get away with it?” He lunged forward to stab Sam, but as Sam moved to the side the weight of Billy’s body carried him on and Sam gave him a hard elbow clump to the back of his neck and he fell to the ground. He kicked him hard in the face, cracking the pig-shaped nose. The blood flowed and Billy knew he was in trouble. He took a while to ease off a bed, let alone get up off the floor with Sam kicking him in the head. Sam was in full swing now; the anger was overwhelming, and Billy was his target. Another blow and almost instantly Billy’s face was a purple balloon.
Louis Summerfield, a well-known lifer in the jail, had heard a whisper that Billy O’Connell was after slicing Sam and he was having none of it. Louis had served twenty years and in his time he had shared a cell with Bill Vincent, Sam’s father, and that made him Sam’s uncle as far as he was concerned.
An old man now, but with a lot of clout, he marched down the wing and pushed open the door. He found Sam foaming at the mouth and pulverising Billy O’Connell. “Stop now, son, before you’re on a fucking murder charge!” He grabbed his waist and pulled him away.
Sam snapped out of his frenzy and stared down at the bloody mess.
But Billy had been unconscious long before Sam stopped the beating.
Louis took Sam out and pushed him into the cell next door. There, Lenny Fisher and Joey Salter, two bank robbers who had been planning their next job, had been tasked with looking after Sam.
“Stay there, boy,” he said, taking control.
“What’s up?” asked Lenny, who, at the time, had his back to the door.
“Get him cleaned up, and he was in here with you two, all right?” stated Louis. No one would argue with the older man, widely respected by the other prisoners.
They both nodded. They got to work cleaning off the blood from Sam, who was still in a daze.
Charlie Lucas, a young lad on a murder charge, was given the job of wing orderly. This was a more interesting job as it meant he wasn’t banged up all day. Louis called him over.
“Get your mop and wash out Sam’s cell.”
There was no question and it was done. Louis got two other inmates to carry out Billy’s limp and heavy body onto the landing. No one saw a thing. The wing was quiet, with everyone keeping themselves to themselves.
The doctor confirmed that Billy had suffered four broken ribs, a snapped femur, and his cheek bones were like mashed potato. The screws found Billy alone on the landing. It took two days before he regained consciousness and by then even he didn’t know who had done it, so he said. But he hadn’t forgotten. He remembered every blow which had hit his face and head before God gave him grace, letting him drift off into a state of sleep.
He had never had a kicking like that before in his whole life. He resigned himself to the fact he had messed with the wrong man.
Sam lay in his empty cell, feeling sick. He had smashed a man’s face in over a stupid disagreement. He wasn’t worried about being a name or having any kind of reputation for violence. He could fight, but only if and when he needed to. There was no bragging and no threatening, and he never glorified his wins. He had always been that way, from a lad at school. If he got picked on, he would fight back and then walk away. His mates would try to rub his head and pat him on the back but he hated all that.
Louis liked Sam a lot. He was a man of integrity, but when wronged – as Billy had wronged Sam – he was a man of justice. The inmates were more than happy to protect Sam, as Billy O’Connell was a bully; he loved to pick on the weaker, timid inmates to make himself look good. He had thrown Charlie Lucas over the balcony when he’d first arrived, just because he forgot to put sugar in Billy’s mug, so Charlie was only too pleased to mop up Billy’s blood. It was his small taste of revenge.
The O’Connells were a large gypsy family. Most of them were serving time. Those who were not, bragged about their uncles who were. That was until word got around that Uncle Billy had been beaten by a Vincent.
The O’Connells thrived on feuds, whether it be family feuds or with the neighbours; it was their way of life. Some grievances went on for decades, even carrying on through generations. But the ways were changing. Younger gypsies had their own ideas of a moral code which were frowned upon by their elders.
Chapter Four
Ruby sat on her beanbag as she looked around her beautiful bedroom. Spoilt with material things, the most expensive satins covered her bed and her carpet was lush and thick. She had a walk-in wardrobe and a dressing table surrounded by spotlights, with enough room to have a party. But it meant nothing. Her world was a lie, a big cover-up. Unlike her brother, who accepted their life, she didn’t, and it played on her mind every day.
Her family had been through some serious problems and sometimes she felt so distant from them. Even her own father hid from her the truth. She had never forgotten what she had witnessed when she was three years old. Her uncles and her aunt were in a big warehouse, with men tied up and blood everywhere. This was not a vision which usually haunted her because, oddly, she had felt safe and secure. When she had asked her Uncle Dan one day about the incident, he had playfully ruffled her hair and laughed, telling her she had a vivid imagination. There was a close bond between her family, much closer than normal, to do with the dark secrets they shared, but what those secrets were she would probably never know. The unknown excluded her from the pack.
Torn between the love from her family and the grief of not knowing her mother, she became agitated and rebellious.
Jack never wanted to speak of Jesse, his mother; the vile memories of abuse disturbed him. He was a year older than Ruby and he remembered an enormous sense of relief w
hen he had been told he would not be living with his mum again. Ruby didn’t understand abuse and had been too young to store those thoughts. Instead, she painted a romantic picture of a woman destitute and penniless who gave her children to their father’s family, who were far better off than her. This was a selfless act, undertaken by a special person. Ruby was content to think her mum lived a modest life, as a waitress, perhaps, or a check-out girl.
Even when they explained to her that Jesse went to prison for drug offences, she defended that accusation and even rationalised it, by believing she did it for the right reasons, to earn money for her and her brother, Jack. She dreamt about her mother as a woman staring into the playground, searching for her children. It was those days at school, when the lesson bored her, that gazing out of the window seemed more appealing. She drifted off into a world where her mother would be. She imagined her soft face, with big blue eyes and long golden hair, wearing a flowered smock dress. She pictured her making her own Christmas cards; she would write a sweet message in the card and then place it in a box with the other fifteen she would have written, saved for the day when she could be reunited with Ruby.
When she tried to talk to her father about her mother, he changed the subject. Ruby mistook this reaction for guilt. In her eyes, he was wrong for not giving Jesse the chance to visit her children, but Ruby didn’t push the matter too far because she loved her dad.
Sam had cooked shepherd’s pie, an old family favourite. The smell wafted up the stairs and Ruby realised how hungry she was. She had behaved appallingly. She knew it and was reluctant to go downstairs. It was humiliating, but it was of her own doing.
“Rubes, Dad wants you to join us for dinner in the dining room.” Jack had popped his head just inside Ruby’s bedroom door.
“Who is down there now?” asked Ruby, somewhat sheepishly.
“No one. Only me and Dad.” He winked. “Come on, Rubes, I’m starving.”
Jack adored his sister. He was well aware she had acted up but he hated to see her sitting alone and upset.