The Traitor

by Kimberley Chambers

  Noticing that both her husband and son were ashen-faced, Alice felt a shiver go down her spine. ‘What’s a matter? Don’t tell me, they’ve let that old whore out and given her custody of the chavvies.’

  Jimmy had tears in his eyes as he wrapped his wife in his arms. ‘It’s our Marky. He’s dead, Alice.’

  Alice pushed Jimmy away. ‘Dead! What are you talking about? He only went to get some breakfast. He was probably tired and went home to get some kip, you dinlo.’

  Jimmy shook his head. ‘Marky’s been involved in a fatal road accident. There were no witnesses, but the gavvers reckon that he probably fell asleep at the wheel of my motor. He hit an old couple driving on the opposite side of the road. The other man’s dead and the woman’s critical. Marky died at the crash scene, there was nothing anybody could do.’

  Alice screamed and pummelled her fists against Jimmy’s chest. ‘It can’t be my Marky – they must have got it wrong. I’m psychic, Jimmy, I would have known. I always know when something’s wrong, you know I do,’ she sobbed.

  Jimmy grabbed his wife and stroked her long dark hair. ‘They’re not wrong, darling. Me and Billy saw my Land Cruiser smashed up on the way to the café. We stopped, but it was too late – he was already dead.’

  Alice sank to her knees and grasped Jimmy’s ankles. ‘It must be a similar motor. It ain’t my Marky, I know it ain’t.’

  Jimmy crouched down and tilted his wife’s chin towards him. ‘Alice, it was definitely Marky. It was me that identified him.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  ‘When I say strip, I mean strip, Mitchell. You need to take your knickers off as well.’

  Frankie looked at the two prison officers in horror. One was tall, fat and she looked and spoke like a man, and the other was short with a skinhead haircut.

  ‘Why have I got to take my knickers off?’ Frankie asked in a nervous whisper. She could sense the two prison officers were enjoying her embarrassment and discomfort.

  ‘I need to check that you’re not carrying any drugs on you. Listen, Mitchell, don’t mess with me, ’cause if you do, I’ll insist that the prison doctor comes in here to give you a full internal, and you won’t enjoy that, trust me.’

  Tears streamed down Frankie’s face as she stepped out of her knickers.

  ‘Now, turn around and bend over,’ the shaven-headed screw ordered.

  Unable to stop her legs from shaking, Frankie did as she was told.

  ‘She’s clean,’ the fat screw said.

  ‘Can I please get dressed again now?’ Frankie asked, as she was told to turn around.

  The smaller screw nodded and as Frankie hurriedly started to put her clothes back on, she felt sick and degraded.

  Urging Frankie to get a move on, the two screws accompanied her towards the hospital wing.

  ‘You’ve got to be five months pregnant to be able to stay on this wing, and you’re not. You’ll probably stay in here overnight, and you’ll be moved to the remand wing tomorrow. I know for a fact there was no room in the hospital wing yesterday, so you might be taken to a cell straight after you’ve had a check-up.’

  Frankie was ravenous; she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for hours. ‘Can I have some dinner?’ she asked as she was escorted through a corridor.

  ‘Hark at her,’ the bigger screw said to the other.

  ‘This ain’t a holiday camp, love,’ the shaven-headed one sniggered.

  As Frankie reached the hospital wing and heard the screams and voices of the other inmates, her hunger rapidly disappeared.

  ‘It’s another white slag,’ shouted an African-sounding voice.

  ‘Oi, pretty girl, you’re mine,’ a woman yelled.

  ‘Lick my pussy, bitch,’ somebody shouted.

  ‘Take no notice of them junkie cunts,’ she heard another girl scream.

  Too frightened to look to her left or her right, Frankie kept her head bowed and stared at her feet. As she heard somebody chanting monkey noises at her, she started to weep.

  ‘Move, Mitchell, we ain’t got all day,’ said the big screw.

  ‘You’re gonna need to toughen up in here. Any sign of weakness, you’ll be like a lamb to the slaughter,’ said the other.

  Frankie breathed a sigh of relief as she was ushered into a little room. Surely the rest of the prison couldn’t be as bad as the hospital wing and, if that was the case, her walk of terror was finally over.

  Eddie Mitchell was beside himself as he paced up and down his living room with a large glass of Scotch in his hand. He picked up his phone and tried Larry’s number again. ‘Why the fuck ain’t you been answering? What’s going on?’

  ‘Ed, I’m on my way over to you now. I’ll be with you in about ten minutes. I’ll explain everything when I get there,’ Larry replied.

  Eddie threw his phone across the room in temper. He’d felt sick to the stomach when Frankie had been banged up earlier, and not knowing where his grandchildren were was giving him a double fucking headache. He turned to Gary and Ricky.

  ‘If Lal’s driving all the way over ’ere then it’s bad news, I’m telling ya. He’d tell me over the fucking phone if he had anything good to say. Frankie’s gonna be upset enough as it is. How the fuck am I meant to tell her that we don’t know where her kids are?’

  ‘Don’t tell her, Dad. If the law ain’t on our side, we’ll sort it ourselves. We can easily get the kids back, trust me,’ Gary said.

  Eddie smashed his fist against the wall. ‘We can’t just fucking kidnap ’em, we’ll all get nicked.’

  Realising that Eddie was in a foul mood, Gina decided to make herself scarce. ‘I bet yous boys haven’t eaten all day. I’ll go and rustle you something up.’

  ‘Food’s the last thing on our fucking minds. Have you forgotten that my daughter’s just been banged up and my grandkids could be anywhere in the bastard country?’

  Ricky was quite taken with his dad’s new girlfriend and immediately stood up for her. ‘Calm down, Dad. Don’t take it out on Gina, she’s only trying to help. Me and Gal are both hungry, we ain’t eaten since this morning. Starving ourselves ain’t gonna get Frankie out of nick or help us find the kids, is it?’

  Eddie ran his hands through his hair. Realising the error of his ways, he followed Gina into the kitchen. ‘I’m really sorry, babe. I’m so fucking stressed, I don’t mean to take it out on you.’

  Gina hugged him. ‘I understand, but you must try and calm yourself down, Ed. For all you know the kids could be with Alice and Jimmy. I shouldn’t think for one minute that Sammy’s run off to the other end of the country with them, and even if he has, you’ve got a clever fiancée who happens to be a private detective.’

  Eddie held Gina’s face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead.

  ‘Dad, Larry’s just pulled up outside,’ Gary shouted.

  Ed dashed to the door and as soon as he clocked Larry’s expression, knew his premonition of bad news had been spot-on.

  Larry walked into the lounge and gratefully accepted the glass of Scotch that Ricky poured for him. He sat down in an armchair. ‘Right, the good news is the kids are safe and well and are being looked after by Alice and Jimmy. The bad news is, until Frankie is released from prison, we don’t have a cat in hell’s chance of getting them back. And the unexpected news is that Jimmy and Alice’s eldest son, Mark, got killed in a car crash this morning. He was in Jimmy’s motor and had just left Basildon Hospital, by all accounts.’

  Eddie smirked. ‘How tragic! And if you want my honest opinion, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer fucking family.’

  Gary grinned. ‘What goes around comes around, eh, Dad?’

  Eddie stood up and began wearing out the carpet once more. ‘There must be some way we can get custody of the kids. Gina and I are willing to look after ’em. Surely the authorities must realise they’re better off living with us than a load of fucking tinkers, and if they won’t allow it because of my record, I’m sure Joycie will have ’em live with her. All G
eorgie and Harry need is a base, then we can all muck in. Joey and Dominic said they’d help out at weekends.’

  Larry held his hands in the air and shook his head. ‘Eddie, I have spent all afternoon going over every legality possible. I have spoken to a policeman friend of mine and also a social worker who I’ve had dealings with in the past. We can apply for a temporary custody order, but I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that you will most certainly be wasting your time. In the eyes of the law, Jed is the innocent party in all of this. He’s also Georgie and Harry’s father, therefore will automatically get custody of them.’

  ‘This is bollocks! I ain’t having some fucking jobsworth telling me what’s best for my grandkids. I will fight this all the way, Lal, however much it costs. As for that shitbag Jed, how is he meant to look after ’em if he’s fighting for his life in fucking hospital?’

  ‘I’ve checked that out, and disappointingly, Jed is already on the road to a full recovery. In a strange way, Eddie, it’s a shame that Frankie didn’t achieve what she obviously intended. If Jed had died, we would have had a much stronger chance of getting custody of the children. However, as it stands, all we can do now is concentrate on getting Frankie out on bail. If we succeed, there is a very good chance that the children will be handed straight back to her. If we fail, I really don’t know what the answer is.’

  Eddie slammed his now empty glass on the coffee table. ‘And what about if I sort things my way?’

  Larry shrugged. ‘False passports and a life abroad with the children would be your only option. I can help you organise it, but it’s really not a wise move, Eddie, trust me on this one. Listen, I have to dash now, my wife has organised one of her infamous dinner parties and I’m extremely late as it is. I’ll call you tomorrow, we’ll talk more then.’

  Gary and Ricky looked at one another as their father left the room. ‘You know, don’t ya?’ Gary said.

  ‘Definitely,’ Ricky replied.

  Eddie saw Larry out and slammed the front door. Fuck the legal system, it was time to sort things out the Mitchell way.

  Back in Holloway, Frankie had now been checked over by medical staff and, due to shortage of space, told she was well enough to be taken straight to a cell on the remand wing, D3.

  After another walk through many corridors, the fat screw grabbed Frankie’s arm, and smiled at her. ‘This is your new home, Mitchell, in you go,’ she said callously.

  As Frankie was shoved inside the cell, she came face to face with three other girls. One was tall, black, with short afro hair, one was mixed race, and the other was a thin-faced white girl.

  Desperate to make friends with somebody, Frankie forced a smile. ‘Hello. My name’s Frankie. What’s yours?’ she whispered.

  ‘You got any gear?’ the white girl asked her.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Frankie asked, perplexed.

  ‘Drugs! Are you divvy or what?’ the girl replied.

  Frankie shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid I haven’t,’ she said apologetically.

  ‘What ’bout fags or baccy? You must have some shit on you,’ the black girl asked.

  ‘I’m sorry, I ain’t got nothing. I’m pregnant, so I don’t really smoke any more,’ Frankie replied honestly.

  The black girl made a kissing noise with her teeth and glared at Frankie. ‘Don’t lie to us, whore, ’cause when we find out you been telling us porkies, I gonna cut that scrawny white throat of yours.’

  Petrified by the manic expression on the girl’s face, Frankie felt her legs start to wobble, then fell to her knees. ‘I’m not lying. I haven’t got anything, I swear I haven’t,’ she cried.

  The black girl sniggered. Ever since she’d been abused as a child by her parents, then shoved into care, she’d always got off on terrorising other people. It was her sadistic acts of violence that had granted her so much respect in the notorious south London posse she now belonged to. She crouched down next to Frankie. ‘Take your tracksuit bottoms off, white girl,’ she ordered.

  ‘Don’t touch me. I beg you, please leave me alone,’ Frankie wept.

  While the other two girls egged her on, the black girl smirked, pinned Frankie down with one hand and put her other hand inside Frankie’s tracksuit bottoms.

  ‘No! Please, no,’ Frankie screamed, as the girl inserted two fingers inside her vagina.

  The girl ignored Frankie’s obvious distress. ‘Turn on your front,’ she ordered.

  As Frankie did as she was told, she felt the girl’s fingers enter her anus, and bit her lip. Part of her wanted to die, but as images of Georgie and Harry flashed through her mind, she knew, whatever happened inside this prison, she had to keep it together for the sake of her children.

  Suddenly the black girl released her fingers, stood up and laughed. ‘So, you ain’t no liar. You say you got no drugs and you ain’t got no drugs.’

  Frankie scrambled to her feet. She had to be strong. She was her father’s daughter after all. ‘If you ever touch me again, I swear I will kill you,’ she said boldly.

  The black girl smiled, then held out her right hand. ‘I like you – you got spunk, Frankie. My name’s Marion, but everyone know me by my street name, Killer. Welcome to Holloway, sister.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Eddie arranged a 1 p.m. meeting at Auntie Joan’s the following day. Years ago, when Ed’s father Harry was alive, they’d always held their most important meetings upstairs in Joanie’s house. They didn’t so much now, but Joan had always left the decor of the room the same, in case the boys ever needed to use it.

  After a lot of thought, Ed had taken the decision not to include Raymond on this particular jaunt. Ray had only just come back into the firm, and after what had happened with Jessica, Ed felt that it was inappropriate to involve him in another bloodbath. Deep down, Eddie felt that Ray would approve of his plan, but he wasn’t going to mention it to him. The fewer people who knew about this one, the better.

  Gary and Ricky were already at Joanie’s when Ed arrived.

  ‘You boys go on upstairs and I’ll make you a pot of tea and a couple of plates of sandwiches. I’ve got some rock cakes in the oven and I’ve made you a nice bread pudding for you to take home with you, Ed.’

  Eddie hugged his aunt. Joanie understood his and his brothers’ lifestyles like the old-timer that she was. Ed told Gary and Ricky to go upstairs. He needed a quiet word alone with his aunt. ‘I’m gonna need a favour, Auntie, an alibi for the boys. Will you do it for us?’

  ‘Of course I bloody will.’

  Eddie held his aunt’s head in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. ‘I love you, Joanie, you’re a diamond.’

  ‘I know I am, now don’t go all sentimental on me. Get your arse upstairs, before I burn your bastard rock cakes.’

  Over in Rainham, Joey and Dominic were having lunch with Joyce and Stanley in the Albion. Joey had been so upset over his sister’s imprisonment that he had taken the rest of the week off work. Worried about Joey, Dom had followed suit.

  Joyce ate her last piece of scampi and put her knife and fork down. ‘I still can’t believe they put her in a women’s prison. In my eyes, Frankie’s still a kid. How will she cope? She’ll be mixing with murderers, druggies and all sorts in there.’

  Seeing the distressed look on his grandson’s face, Stanley kicked his wife under the table to urge her to shut up.

  Joyce glanced at Stanley, kicked him back twice as hard, then carried on talking. ‘So, have you spoken to her yet, Joey?’

  Joey’s eyes welled up. ‘She rang last night to speak to the kids. She’d rung Kerry first and Kerry had told Frankie that the kids were staying at ours. I didn’t know what to say, so I pretended that Dom had taken them to McDonald’s. What am I gonna do if she rings again later and asks to speak to them? If I say Dom’s taken ’em out again, she’s bound to get suspicious that I’m lying.’

  ‘I think Frankie should know the truth. She’s every right to know that the gyppos have snatched her poor babies,’ S
tanley said bluntly.

  Joey shook his head. ‘Dad said Frankie won’t cope in there if she thinks the O’Haras have got the kids. He’s told us to lie for the sake of her sanity.’

  Stanley slammed his pint down on the table. ‘That sounds about right, coming from your father. He’s a born fucking liar who lied his way out of murdering your poor mother. He should have got life, the bastard.’

  Aware that Joey was about to cry, Joyce punched Stanley on the arm. ‘If you ain’t got anything constructive to say, then don’t say nothing, you evil old goat!’

  ‘I’ll get us all another drink. Same again, Joycie?’ Dominic asked, as Stanley stomped off to the toilets.

  Joyce nodded, and when Dominic walked away, patted Joey’s arm. ‘Don’t worry yourself, love. I bet this time next week Frankie’s got bail and is round at mine and your grandad’s with the kids.’

  Joey sighed. ‘Let’s pray to God you’re right, Nan, ’cause if the crown court refuses her bail, Frankie and them poor kids’ lives will be ripped apart for ever.’

  Unaware that her family were currently discussing her welfare, Frankie was lying on her bunk, staring blankly at the ceiling. Since their initial humiliation of her, Marion, Liz and Jackie, her three cellmates, had been nothing but friendly towards her, but Frankie couldn’t be arsed making small talk with them. Not only had they put her through one of the worst experiences of her life, but in six days’ time she would be out of this shit-hole and, hopefully, would never have to see them again.

  Her dad had paid for his own solicitor, Larry, to represent her and Larry had come to see her this morning. ‘You must be strong. Keep your chin up and I promise I’ll get you out of here next week, Frankie. Your kids are fine – missing you, of course – but they’re being well looked after by Kerry and Joey,’ Larry said, repeating the speech Eddie had insisted on.

  Picturing Georgie and Harry’s innocent little faces, Frankie smiled. She couldn’t wait to see them again; being without them felt like her heart had been ripped out.