“Yeah, I do,” Amal smiled. “Thanks.”
Amal surveyed his family. Sanjay was in his best suit, as was Naz, who was fiddling with his tie, uncomfortable to be in such formal wear, though Amal knew his mum had insisted upon it. She was in her best clothes too, and Amal felt more at ease in his suit, hoping the judge would think him a professional and not a thug. Sanjay’s girlfriend, Fernanda, who Amal vaguely remembered hanging around the house before Sanjay had been sent down, had come to support him too, though Amal knew it was more to be with Sanjay than for concern over him and his future. She was hot, Amal thought, and he was pleased for his brother.
At least one of them was getting some, he thought wryly.
One of the assistants came forward, his face impassive.
“Amal Siddiqui?” he greeted him, and Amal nodded. The assistant smiled, though it was just a gesture and there was no warmth. “If you’ll follow me.”
He walked towards the wooden double-doors that led to the courtroom. Mrs Siddiqui hugged him close, and Amal felt bad when he saw her eyes were already watering. She blew him a kiss as Sanjay and Naz guided her out of the chamber to take their seats in the courtroom, Fernanda following, giving Amal a smile.
Amal turned from them and went after the assistant. He tried not to think of the fact that the judge waited on the other side of the doors, the man who held his entire future in his hands. Amal wiped his palms on his trousers again and took a deep breath, praying, really praying, for the first time in his life.
* * *
Brandy checked herself in the reflection of a car window and knew that she looked good. She wore a tight mini-skirt and an even tighter top that showed of her breasts, her hair was teased high and curled, and she was wearing bright red lipstick and large silver hoop earrings. She had pissed off Aunt Bo again by refusing to stay in with her and the baby but she didn’t think on it, pulling up her top so her red bra wasn’t too much on show and pouted for effect. Yeah, she thought, she looked fucking hot.
Beside her, Adrianna nodded in approval, a smile on her hot-pink lips.
“Looking fine,” she said. “How do I look?”
Brandy considered her mate. She had straightened her long blonde hair and wore a sequined skirt that just about covered her knickers and her tits were sticking out the top of the dress. She was just about able to walk in her heels, and her eyes were black with mascara and eye-shadow.
“You’ll do,” Brandy said. “Come on, let’s get down that bar, I need vodka before I dry out.”
Adrianna grinned and followed Brandy as she crossed the small car park on the edge of the Goldsworth. Their heels clattered on the pavement and Brandy tugged her skirt down as it rode up.
“We’re bound to be centre of attention,” Adrianna said.
“Too fucking right,” Brandy agreed. “I’ll be pissed if we’re not.”
She wanted attention, she thought, but the thought of actually meeting a guy made her shiver. She had not been able to withstand the touch of a man since her rape ordeal and she had not had any opportunity to meet anyone else in an all-women’s prison at any rate. Adrianna was a right slag anyway, Brandy considered, so if she caught any guy’s attention and didn’t want him she could always pass him onto her. Brandy smiled at the thought, as Adrianna groaned beside her.
A figure approached them and Brandy recognised her at once, giving an inward groan as Zoe Taylor came towards them, pushing her pram. She paled in comparison to them, Brandy thought, with her bushy red hair loose and flying about her face in the breeze and her arse and tits stretching the tracksuit she wore to the maximum. She slowed as she neared them, clearly hesitant.
“You all right Zoe?” Brandy called.
Adrianna was hesitating too, though Brandy knew that she had never been introduced to Zoe and was only worried that someone she knew might see them chatting to a girl with such little fashion sense.
“Do you know her?” Adrianna intoned under her breath as Brandy led her to close the gap between them and Zoe. Brandy ignored her.
“I’m fine thanks,” Zoe said, eyeing Brandy with suspicion. “You?”
“Yeah, I’m great,” Brandy replied. She looked down at the pram and saw Zoe’s daughter, Sienna, looking up at them with wide eyes. She had grown a lot since the last time Brandy had seen her, and she already had a mass of ginger curls on top of her head. “She looks like you,” Brandy said, looking from Zoe to Sienna.
“Poor kid,” Adrianna sniggered quietly, lips curling in distaste.
Brandy wanted to lamp her one, but she resisted the urge. She wondered if Zoe had heard that she’d had a baby herself, but she figured she hadn’t or it would have been the first thing she’d have asked about.
“We’re off clubbing, going to go grab a few drinks at a bar down the road if you wanted to go get changed and join us,” Brandy said. She wasn’t sure why she extended the invitation, but seeing Zoe brought back memories, good ones, and she wanted to reminisce with her.
Zoe smiled, and Brandy wondered if it was forced or not.
“Sorry, I won’t be able to get a babysitter,” Zoe said. “I should get back anyway, she’s due her tea soon.”
She made to go past them, and Adrianna stepped aside gladly to let her and the pram pass. Brandy wondered if her comments had been aimed at her. Maybe she had heard about Frazer and she wondered if Zoe was having a dig at her.
“Another time then?” Brandy asked.
“Maybe,” Zoe said, and walked on, pushing the pram, wheels bouncing along the pavement.
Brandy watched her go and wondered if she had just been rebuffed by Zoe. It was hard for her to comprehend, although Zoe had no doubt been avoiding her for months. Zoe had once been her best friend, and would have practically wet herself at an invitation to go out with her; now it was like Brandy had to beg her and still got rejected.
“Who the fuck was that?” Adrianna asked, shaking her head with distaste. “Talk about council-house trash. She never heard of a washing machine? Those trackie-bottoms were stained from arse to ankle.”
Brandy narrowed her eyes at her. This bitch just didn’t understand.
“Come on,” she snapped at Adrianna, strutting off, and Adrianna hurried after her, wincing in her heels. “That vodka ain’t going to pour itself.”
She tried not to think about Zoe or all the happy memories they had shared together. It was a painful reminder of everything that she had lost and she knew that a few shots of vodka, maybe more, was the only way she was likely to forget them.
* * *
Amal held his breath, his hands tightly squeezed together behind his back, as the judge cleared his throat.
“You have pleaded guilty to the lesser charge of possession,” the judge noted, in his authoritative voice. “And whilst I must insist on a custodial sentence,” he said, and Amal felt his heart sink, “Your lawyer has stated that you have already served time in remand and so I am inclined to release you on time already served.”
Amal gasped, looking inquiringly at the judge.
“You’re free to go, Mr Siddiqui,” the judge said, with a slight nod of his head.
Amal could hardly believe it.
He was free. He wouldn’t be going back to prison, back to Troy and the others. He’d be going home, to the Goldsworth, where he could drink and smoke and fuck and party all he wanted with no prison officers to tell him off and no rules to abide by.
His mother clapped her hands together and let out a wail of relief at the verdict, and Sanjay and Naz both cheered. Amal looked at them and smiled, feeling relief and excitement lift the weight from his shoulders.
He would be walking out of here with them, he thought. No handcuffs. He was free, and he was damn sure he was going to make the most of it.
* * *
As night fell and the air cooled to a more comfortable temperature, Aurora lay in bed, Clint’s arm around her shoulders, and she felt happy. It had been such a long time since she had felt such joy and yet part of
her knew that it would not last.
They would soon be returning to London, to the Goldsworth, and though she was desperate to see her mother she also felt afraid of what she might find. Not just of the danger that awaited Clint there, but the state her mother might be in. She hadn’t heard from her in days, and Clint had told her not to ring and tell her they were on their way, in case word got out and the Banks brothers knew to expect them. She knew Clint still had doubts about bringing her and Kojo with him, but it was out of his hands now.
They had told Kojo the news earlier in the evening as they had all sat down to watch EastEnders and he had been delighted at the thought of going home. Aurora had sensed a lift in his spirits since then, but Clint’s mood had darkened, and she knew that he shared her concerns that Kojo would not want to return to Manchester with them when the time came to leave London again.
She had tried to reassure Clint, putting aside her own concerns, and she thought he had somewhat calmed now that they had turned the lights off and a cool breeze flittered through the open window.
“We’ll be ok, you now,” Aurora whispered into the darkness, half turning to look at Clint.
“I know,” Clint replied, kissing her lightly on the cheek. “We’ll be fine.”
Aurora wondered if he was trying to make himself feel better or her, but she cuddled up to him all the same, savouring the scent of him and the warmth emanating from his skin. He held her in his arms until she drifted into sleep.
* * *
Tyrese kicked the base of the armchair and Trent jolted awake, spilling some beer from his can into his lap.
“Fuck’s sake,” he cursed, wiping at his jeans. “What you do that for?”
“We’ve got some things to discuss,” Tyrese said.
He had spent all evening thinking and he had come to the realisation that perhaps for now Troy was more valuable to them inside than back out on the streets. He had discussed it with Sanjay, one of his closest mates. Sanjay had become a surrogate deputy in lieu of Trent, and Tyrese was growing more reliant on him than his own brother.
Still, he wanted Trent’s opinion on the matter, but he knew that his brother would not take kindly to such an idea, taking it as an affront to leave their youngest brother languishing behind bars whilst they enjoyed the profits he made them.
Tyrese could see no other way and it wasn’t long until Troy’s trial.
“Come on, spit it out then,” Trent grumbled, taking a swig from his can. “I was watching something –”
“Nah, you were sleeping,” Tyrese interrupted. “Too many cans tonight?”
“Fuck off,” Trent responded.
Tyrese rolled his eyes; his brother’s drinking was nothing new to him.
“We need to talk about Troy,” Tyrese said.
“He’s been doing well, ain’t he?” Trent nodded in approval. “Not that he didn’t owe us, not after all that shit he brought to our door.”
“Not causing trouble whilst he’s locked up,” Tyrese agreed.
“Yeah, good thing too,” Trent sighed.
Tyrese knew his brother still remembered being locked-up for two shootings, which Troy had actually been responsible for. The memory still grated on him, he knew, and he hoped Trent was remembering it now; it might make what he had to say more appealing to him.
“What if he stayed in there awhile?” Tyrese asked casually.
“Well he ain’t likely to break himself out is he,” Trent snorted, swigging from his can. He finished it and crumpled it up, dropping it to the table beside him. “He won’t get found guilty though, not if we have anything to do with it.”
“What if he did though?” Tyrese asked. “Get found guilty? He wouldn’t be causing any trouble for us, and he’d be making us a tidy profit and all.”
Trent took a moment to register what he was saying and his face darkened with realisation.
“You don’t mean –” he gasped. “We can’t keep him in there, bro.”
“He’s more useful to us in there than out here.”
“Nah, man, you must’ve smoked something,” Trent shook his head. “We’re the fucking Banks brothers; we don’t leave one of our own in there.”
Tyrese gritted his teeth. It was what he had feared, his brother thinking with his heart and not his head, letting loyalty take precedence over logic.
“Let’s at least think about it,” he suggested.
“I’ve thought about it plenty,” Trent snapped. “And it ain’t fucking happening.”
“We’ll see,” Tyrese growled.
He would not let this drop; he knew that he was right and he would damn well make sure his brother knew it too. He was more determined than before to turn Trent round to the idea and as long as Troy didn’t fuck things up inside then he might just be able to, he hoped.
“Go grab me a can,” Trent said from his armchair. “I’m fucking gasping.”
* * *
Zoe Taylor put her daughter Sienna to sleep and wandered around the flat, restless and unable to sit down to watch television, memories flooding back of the times she had shared with Brandy and with beautiful blonde Sasha before her death. They had been so inseparable, the three of them. Parties, boys, alcohol; they had experienced them all together as they grew up.
They had not all been good memories, though. Zoe still had sleepless nights remembering the night Shaniqua Curtis had been stabbed, and that was when Brandy had changed. She had become controlling and angry, worried that Zoe would break under the pressure from the police, and Zoe didn’t blame her for that. Maybe Brandy hadn’t really changed at all though, Zoe sometimes wondered, perhaps she had just seen her best friend in a different light then, and now she couldn’t really imagine them being close again. Too much had happened, too much had changed.
She felt lonely, she realised then. She no longer spoke to Brandy, and Sasha was dead. Aurora, who had become such a good friend to her, had disappeared and she knew that it was for the best that she had fled. It hurt though, that she should have to lose so many friends and all because of one stupid mistake on one dreadful night.
Shaking a cigarette out of the packet on the kitchen table, Zoe lit it and went out onto the balcony outside her front door. A few streetlights flickered orange, casting circles of light down onto the courtyard below, but the alleys and stairwells were dark, and she imagined menacing figures lurking in the shadows. She was sure all kinds waited just beyond the reaches of the light; dealers and thieves, drunks and crackheads. Most of them were probably harmless, she thought, but others – well, she remembered what had happened to Shaniqua, and shuddered.
Movement on the balcony a few feet from her made her jump and she dropped her cigarette on the floor.
“You all right, Zoe?”
Zoe sighed with relief. She had been frozen with fear, not even able to make it a few steps to her front door, and she looked down at the cigarette wistfully.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tamar said, bemused. “What you doing out here anyway?”
“Just wanted a fag,” Zoe said, shaking her head. “Never mind, it’s fine, I wasn’t paying attention, it’s my fault –”
Tamar smiled and fumbled in his pocket. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and opened them, offering one to her.
“You sure?” Zoe asked, uncertain.
Though they had hung out so many times in the past, Zoe and Tamar had never been close. Zoe was Brandy’s mate, Tamar was Troy’s, and with Brandy and Troy inseparable, they had spent time together but never really been proper mates.
“Yeah, go on,” Tamar said, shaking the packet.
Zoe took one and lit it, inhaling gratefully.
“Thanks,” she said.
Tamar lit one of his own and they stood, looking out over the wall at the courtyard below as two drunken lads staggered towards a stairwell.
“What you up to tonight then?” Tamar asked, when the two guys had disappeared into the darkness, though their trainers scuffing on concrete and their
drunken mumblings could still be heard echoing from the stairwell.
“Just a quiet one,” Zoe admitted, gesturing to her flat. “Same as always.”
“Yeah, same,” Tamar sighed. “It’s weird now, I miss the old days.”
Zoe looked at him and he was frowning.
“You know, when Sasha was still here,” Tamar said, a smile coming to his lips at the memory of her. Zoe remembered he’d had a thing for her. “And Clint and Amal too. I even miss Troy, from the days before –” He trailed off, and Zoe knew what he meant.
“Me too,” she agreed. “I still keep thinking Sasha’s going to burst out her front door one day and wonder what’s been going on with us all lately.”
“Yeah,” Tamar smiled. “That would be cool.”
Zoe realised that he must be as lonely as she was; both of them had lost their mates now, both had nobody to talk to about the past.
“You know, if you want, you can come in for a bit,” Zoe offered, and Tamar looked at her in surprise. “I think I might have a few cans at the back of the fridge, and we could, I dunno, just chat or whatever.”
Tamar looked surprised by the invitation.
“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Zoe stammered, backtracking. “I only –”
“No, no, it sounds like a cool idea,” Tamar said quickly.
Zoe smiled with relief, and they stubbed out their cigarettes, flicking them over the wall to the courtyard below, before she led him inside her flat.
* * *
Troy felt anxious as he thought about Amal. He had been gone a long time, and he still did not know whether his mate was coming back or not. He considered grabbing his phone and texting his brother to find out for him, when someone came and stood at the entrance to his cell, followed by a prison officer.
Troy’s heart hammered and his palms went damp with panic as he strained his mind for any unusual behaviour this morning. Had someone grassed him up? Could Wimbly have lost the plot?
The guy was about the same age as him and had the same lean build, but he was white instead of black and a scar ran down his face. He had shaved dark hair and a bit of dark stubble on his face.
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