by Wonny Lea
On the way out from that visit, Amy was not surprised to feel a hand behind her, one that deliberately fondled her bottom. But instead of pushing it away, she moved towards it and offered obvious encouragement. Amy didn’t catch her usual train home that day, as the journey from the prison to the station was in Jack’s BMW, and their stops at lay-bys had meant that the back seat was in use more than the front ones.
For a few weeks they had co-ordinated their prison visits, and a regular pattern emerged. But like in most relationships, there was a need to move on to the next step. Jack wanted Amy to stay in Bristol, but she was not at that stage. She constantly reminded herself of the age gap between them, and had convinced herself that Jack would soon tire of her.
The reality was, however, quite different, as it was in fact Jack who had become completely besotted with Amy, and thought about her every minute of his waking hours. He showered her with presents and gave her a wad of notes every time they met. On one occasion she had sat on the train returning from Bristol to Cardiff and counted his latest bundle, which had amounted to £835. It seemed he would do anything for her.
Today, though, there was something else causing Amy to move about in her seat, and she once again unrolled the newspaper she held and revealed the headline, ‘Brutal Murder of Gay Man’. She knew the man in question was her brother Mark and was taking the newspaper to the prison for her father. Not that he would need to be informed, as in her experience her father and the other prisoners seemed to know more about what was happening outside the walls than most other people who were free to find out did.
The train pulled into Temple Meads Station, and walking outside she almost immediately spotted Jack’s car. She walked towards it, thrusting the newspaper into his hands as she closed her door.
‘I’ve already seen it, and it was on the radio and telly, and so now you and your father will never have to think about your disgusting freak of a brother ever again. Good riddance to bad rubbish is what I think, and your old man will be well pleased.’
Amy watched Jack as he slowly drove the car from the front of the station and took the now-familiar route towards the prison. At first she had been surprised at how carefully Jack drove but now knew that it had nothing to do with road safety but everything to do with him not wanting any unwelcome contact with the law.
Although he wanted her to move to Bristol, she had not as yet been to his house, but she knew that he lived with his worn-out mother, who washed, cleaned, and cooked for him in the same way she had done for his father before him. Even today, she would not be going to the house, but neither would she be returning to Newport as her ticket today was a one-way option, and she questioned Jack now about the arrangements for later.
‘You’ll find out soon enough, girl, but glad to see you didn’t bring any luggage, as you and me is going on a shopping trip before getting the plane – all you need is your passport – got that?’
Amy pretended to have forgotten her passport but her joke did not have the desired effect of raising a laugh. Instead, Jack slammed on the brakes and grabbed hold of her arm roughly, calling her a fucking stupid cow, but letting her go quickly as she held up her passport for him to see.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, and went on to tell Amy that he was in no mood for jokes, before lightening the tense atmosphere by telling her to look in the glove compartment. She pulled out a paper wallet containing flight tickets, and her stomach did a somersault as she read that they were booked on an EasyJet flight out of Bristol airport at 18.45, and that they were going to Malaga. Childlike, Amy asked Jack how long it would take to get there, and was he scared of flying?
‘You telling me you never been on a plane, and you nearly old enough to be my mother?’ he said, and laughed as he felt her embarrassment. He was getting his own back at Amy’s attempt to tease him about her passport, but his reference to the difference in their ages made her wince and she fell silent.
Her mind reflected on not only their age difference but the fact that here she was, years older than him, and she had never been on a plane, whereas it was difficult to mention a country that he hadn’t visited – who said crime didn’t pay?
Jack had told Amy that he and his dad used to travel to wherever they fancied whenever a particular business deal had gone well, and had found it particularly funny that their old woman had on several occasions kept their dinners warm for hours, not knowing they were in Spain or Mexico or wherever. Amy generally found herself laughing when people allowed themselves to be made a fool, of but she had more of a feeling of pity when Jack ridiculed his mother.
Most of her life she too had been surrounded by men who were only too willing to take advantage of her – it had happened constantly during her years of moving from one foster home to another.
It would wipe the smile off the face of many a smug semi-detached housewife if she told them how their husbands amused themselves with their ward while they were doing the weekly shop. Some of them had forced their attentions upon her, but there were others that she had deliberately led on so that she could get extra favours. It wasn’t just the husbands, but some of the sons and even the daughters who were either sexually or physically abusive towards her, and so it was little wonder that she had turned her back on society and now did only what she wanted to do.
But, even now, wasn’t she the one being manipulated? The trip to Malaga wasn’t something she wanted. It was Jack who had suggested that they disappear for a few weeks and get to know one another better. She had noticed that her ticket was one-way, but Jack’s was a return, booked for Wednesday, so in just two days’ time she would be on her own in a foreign country. Normally, she would have questioned him about this, but his earlier display of bad temper made her wary and so she decided to ask him later as he would be in a much better mood when they were shopping. Amy had never in her life met a man who liked shopping as much as Jack, and it mattered little what he was buying just as long as he was flashing the cash and impressing giggly young checkout girls.
Jack parked the car as usual in one of the side roads near the prison and they walked to the entrance, went through the usual security checks, and in less than ten minutes Amy was sitting opposite her father who was indeed looking well pleased, as Jack had predicted.
Amy handed over the newspaper, and although it had already been checked at the gate, one of the prison staff walked over and took it off Bob and carefully flicked through each page before handing it back.
‘It’s only Leo who knows how this killing relates to me and that’s the way I want it. I haven’t recognised that piece of filth as my son since he started fucking up all our lives, and as far as any of the blokes here know, you are my only child.’
Bob read the front-page story and then pretended to take a great interest in an article on the second page relating to the changing nature of pubs in the valleys of South Wales. He raised his voice so that other inmates and visitors would hear him condemning the way in which the ordinary working man was being driven out of their traditional watering holes by yuppies and fast food chains. A few of the other prisoners, including Leo Thompson, joined in a chorus of mutterings on the subject before the senior prison officer shouted for quiet and suggested they all get on with their individual visits.
Amy looked around her and realised that for the majority of the men being visited, it wouldn’t matter a damn what happened to the pubs where they used to live, as the nature of their crimes meant that for many years to come the only eating and drinking they would be doing would be at Her Majesty’s pleasure.
She looked back at her father, who was pleased that he had achieved his diversion and would now take the newspaper back to his cell and leave it open to display the controversial pub annihilation page. When alone, he would revel in reading and re-reading the front-page story of his son’s death, with not one paternal feeling getting in the way of the pleasure that the news brought him.
He caught sight of Amy, who was staring across the room, and followed
her gaze to where Leo and his son Jack were deep in conversation. He knew that they would both like to know what was being said. Bob knew that Leo was an evil bastard who liked inflicting pain, and had good reason to believe that the son followed faithfully in the footsteps of his father.
‘What’s the setup with you and Leo’s boy – you need to be careful there, you know that, don’t you?’
‘’Course I do, I’m not stupid, but Jack will look after me. It’s in his best interests, because he’s crazy about me and we’re going to live together, so there’s nothing to worry about, is there? First of all we’re going on holiday and I’m going to fly for the first time, or at least for the first time in an aeroplane.’ Amy laughed at her own joke, but her father wasn’t amused; his worst nightmare for years had been that his daughter would be found dead following one of her drug-induced ‘flights’.
‘Where are you going, and how long will you be away?’
‘Oh … Spain. I don’t have a return ticket, but Jack does, and my guess is that he will be flying back every couple of days, probably to sort out his business deals.’
‘Can you manage without your prescription?’ asked Bob quietly.
‘Don’t be stupid, Dad,’ responded Amy. ‘Jack will see me OK – there are always people ready to trade their substitute as part-payment for the real thing, so no worries on that score.’
‘Keep your voice down! What about getting through Customs? They could pick you up if Jack is carrying drugs,’ said Bob.
Amy looked panic-stricken, as she had not even considered dealing with Customs, and as a first-time air traveller obviously had no experience of the process. She turned to her father for help, but in vain.
‘You’re asking the wrong one, kid, no good asking someone who’s only set foot outside Wales to be driven in police custody to this place. I only know what I’ve heard, but from the stories Leo tells about his world-wide travels, I guess your Jack will be something of an expert when it comes to getting through Customs.’
Visitors were anxiously looking at their watches and Amy knew from past experience that it would not be long before the buzzer sounded and the visiting session would come to an abrupt end.
‘Don’t know when my next visit will be’ she told her father. ‘With family matters now sorted I intend to have a bit – or make that a lot – of fun, so no need for you to worry about me.’
Her father looked at her as she rose at the sound of the buzzer and made her way to the door. They never hugged or kissed or hung on to each other, as did so many of the others at the end of a visiting session, but as Bob watched Amy leave he had a sense of foreboding, and wondered if he would ever again see the only person he had even come close to really loving.
Without looking back, Amy walked away from the prison and was standing outside before Jack caught up with her and slapped her on the bum. ‘Anyone would think you had a plane to catch,’ he laughed, and it was clear that the meeting with his father had put him in high spirits and he was ready for some fun. Amy caught his mood, and the two of them virtually ran to the car. Twenty minutes later they were pulling into the multi-storey car park adjacent to a large retail centre just outside Bristol.
Jack told her that they must get stuff for the beach, and said his mate’s place came with its own pool, but instead of relishing the prospect, Amy’s spirits sank. She didn’t do beaches, they didn’t really suit her image, and she couldn’t remember when the sun had last seen any parts of her body beyond her face, legs, and arms, and only these if it were strong enough to get through tattoos and make-up. Another thing was that she had never learned how to swim.
‘I didn’t know we were going to stay with someone you know,’ Amy said warily. ‘I thought it was just going to be the two of us.’
‘What? Shacked up in some bloody Spanish hotel, with millions of off-their-heads Brits, when we can be at Bruno’s where it’s non-stop party time? We might be on our own, but more often there is a full house, so it’s find a bed or share a bed, whatever takes your fancy – and there’s usually plenty to fancy.’
Amy was now struggling to show any signs of enjoying the shopping trip, even though both their arms were loaded up with bags and packages, and she had in the space of an hour acquired more new clothes than she could remember having in the whole of her life.
‘Better get us each one of those pull-along things to stick all this stuff in when we get on the plane,’ said Jack as he reached in his pocket for his mobile phone almost before it had started ringing, and as if he was expecting a call at that very moment.
Jack never said hello or spoke his name when answering his phone, always waiting for the caller to identify themselves before saying anything at all. His father had taught him well, and as Jack never had casual phone calls from friends, Amy suspected that this call would have something to do with the family business. And she was right.
Putting all his purchases on the floor, Jack reached into one of the pockets of his combat-style trousers and pulled out yet another stash of twenty-pound notes. He handed it to Amy. ‘Got a job to do for the old man, but it won’t take long so you just get what else we need while I sort out the business. Give me your stuff as well and I’ll take it back to the car.’
Amy handed over her shopping, holding on to two of the bags saying she couldn’t bear to be parted from the boots and leather jacket she had chosen, but she willingly giving over the bikinis and scanty underwear that had been chosen for her by Jack. This bundle of notes held a hell of a lot more than the one she had counted on the train. She said nothing and tried to stuff it into the pocket of her jeans, but they were already gripping her body too tightly to accept anything else.
Jack shook his head. ‘You bought one of those arse-bags,’ he reminded her. ‘Why don’t you fucking well use it, unless you feel like spilling twenties all over the bastard place.’ For some reason she didn’t understand, she was afraid that Jack would take it back off her if it wasn’t secured, but she needn’t have worried because Jack was not really with her now.
She looked at him as he took the parcels from her, and saw in his eyes an intensely ugly expression. She wondered what job he was about to do for his father. The jobs obviously paid well, as Amy counted at least ten pockets in those combat trousers and all but one looked to contain a similar wad of money as the one he had just handed over.
Jack turned his back on Amy and marched off in the direction of the car park. She was still staring after him when a few minutes later her attention was caught by a small boy who, from behind his mother’s back, was grinning and pointing in her direction. Amy made a face and a most un-ladylike gesture that, although not fully understood, left the boy in no doubt that she was not someone to be laughed at.
‘Cheeky little sod,’ muttered Amy, but in a way she had been relieved by the distraction of the child, and it had reinforced her opinion that people in general were just a load of crap. The people she had known through being fostered, the social workers, the so-called friends she had made, were all crap. Jack and his family and the people in Spain would be no different, she knew that, but for now she needed Jack, and with everything that was happening she was aware that it would be hours, not days, before she needed some chemical help – and he could provide that by the bucket load.
Strange how in a very busy shopping area crammed with people you can suddenly be quite alone – just by bolting the door of a toilet cubicle. Amy used the loo and then, fully dressed, sat on the seat and counted her money over and over, until she finally got it into her head that this was just a few twenties short of two thousand pounds.
Mega shopping or what!
Chapter Nine
Possible motives
Arriving at Goleudy just before eight o’clock on Monday morning, Martin’s spirits were raised as he spotted the shining, newly bobbed hair of Shelley Edwards, who was standing alongside the reception desk. Just as quickly, his spirits were lowered, as he realised that the person she was welcoming was none ot
her than the Chief Constable, who cut an imposing figure in full uniform, adorned by the medal which everyone knew had been acquired for her extreme bravery above and beyond the call of duty.
Martin remembered Shelley telling him that the big boss was giving the opening talk at her seminar, but until now it had slipped his mind – not surprising given the nature of the weekend he had just endured. He wished he had remembered, as he would have taken the back stairs, knowing that now a meeting was inevitable, and that Chief Constable Barnes would know all about the Mark Wilson murder and would expect a concise report there and then.
Both women turned as Martin approached them, and after the usual professional pleasantries the senior officer wasted no time in asking if there was any progress in the latest murder enquiry.
‘We have already had to deal with representatives of the gay community in Cardiff, as the press seem to be making a real issue of the fact that Mark Wilson was gay, but I get a feeling from your reports so far that you are not convinced there is a connection?’ Chief Constable Barnes was not as tall as Martin but nevertheless seemed to be able to look him straight in the eye. And she would not expect anything other than a straight answer to her question.
‘No, ma’am,’ responded Martin. ‘The victim had from time to time taken part in demonstrations related to the rights of gays and lesbians, but generally he seems to have viewed his sexuality as a purely private matter, and most people wouldn’t have even been aware of it.’
‘Well, DCI Phelps, it’s unlikely to have been an intruder, is it? Nothing was taken from the house and from what I understand you haven’t found a murder weapon or any credible witnesses and so de facto no possible suspects. No need to remind you that the first few days following a murder are crucial and so we won’t hold you up any longer, but I am here until lunchtime, and I’ll touch base before I leave, for an update.’
As the two women walked away in the direction of the stairs, Shelley looked over her shoulder towards Martin and raised her eyebrows in apology. The chance meeting of Martin and his superior officer had not been her fault, but she was sorry that it had led to additional pressure on him. It hadn’t done her intended positive start to her well-arranged day much good either.