‘Are you alright love? You look all in.’ Her mother’s tone was not at all comforting, more of a rebuke. Judy heard her mother’s oft-repeated words in her head: You’re working too hard. Josh needs his mother. Take time off for yourself and your family.
Judy turned, stared out the window into the beautiful garden, the tiny space full of blooming flowers, reds, yellows and oranges, the rain now stopped and a bee hovering in its never-ending quest for nectar.
Busy bee, just like me.
‘I’m fine mum, just tired after a long week.’ Josh was offering her a cake and she smiled down at him, thinking how like a puppy he was. Every day was a world of wonder to him, to be grabbed and squeezed for all the fun that could be had. She hoped he would never lose that, never grow out of it. ‘No thanks darling. I’ll wait until after dinner.’ Judy cocked an eye at her mother.
‘It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes. Enough time for you to shower and perk yourself up. Shepherds pie.’
‘Blaagh!’ Josh grabbed his throat and fell to the floor, choking to death at the very thought.
‘And fish fingers for you sunshine. Then you can eat cake, okay?’
‘Aw Gran. Can’t I just eat cake?’ He sat on the kitchen floor, eyes begging, bringing that puppy to Judy’s mind again.
‘No you cannot! Now go and play, and let your mum drink her tea and get cleaned up.’ Gran handed Judy the cup without bothering to ask if she wanted a drink.
Josh scooted from the kitchen and moments later they could hear his Playstation blasting away.
‘Thanks mum.’ She was glad Josh was out of earshot. ‘I was thinking, how about we all head off to Brighton tomorrow? A family outing?’
‘Oh Judy, I’m sorry love. John called earlier.’ Her mother’s lip curled as she uttered Judy’s ex-husband’s name. ‘He’s flying off to the US for several weeks and said he wanted Josh for the weekend... If it had been up to me I’d have told him to get lost. But he said he’d pick him up tomorrow morning at ten.’
‘Bugger!’ Judy took a gulp of tea. It was good, but her mother’s scowl was not. ‘Sorry mum. Josh can’t hear with that din going on.’
‘That’s hardly the point, is it?’
Judy loved her mum dearly, and appreciated everything she did for her and Josh. But she still, like all mothers everywhere, treated her grown up daughter as if she was a wayward teenager.
‘So his highness is going away again and demanded his son’s presence before he jets off?’
The sour note was unusual, and Judy realised she was being petulant. She purposely tried to ensure the best possible relationship between Josh and his father, and had always acquiesced when John’s work shifted their schedule for sharing their son.
She suspected John took advantage and she wondered if he had today. She was certain he must have known he would be away earlier in the week. He had just not bothered to tell her. Well, she should not be surprised. Once a selfish bastard, always a selfish bastard.
‘Josh is looking forward to it. And you’ll have him all to yourself for the next few weeks. Let’s go to Brighton next weekend, eh, love?’ Her mum patted her arm and said, ‘Now, how about that shower or the pie’ll be spoiled’
***
Judy felt revived. She’d had a scalding shower, used a whole tube of gel and washed her hair four times. The stench of prison had eventually rinsed away, the memories of her ordeal fading with the stinging jets of water, her sanctuary having its usual anaesthetic effect on her.
The shepherds pie settled her even more, comfort food and one of her favourite meals.
Good old mum – she’s worth her weight.
Judy played with Josh, helped him bath, or rather bombard rubber ducks and flood the bathroom floor, then tucked him up in bed before reading him some more Harry Potter. His eyelids drooped so she kissed him goodnight. His little arms crushed her neck as he squeezed her and whispered, ‘I love you mummy. I love daddy too, but I love you more. I’ll be back on Sunday.’ She felt tears well up, gave him a final hug and left him clutching Bruno Bear.
Gran handed her a gin and tonic the moment she entered the lounge. Mozart wafted from the speakers and some candles threw a cosy yellow light, turning the room into a haven for relaxation.
‘Sit down love. Put your feet up. You look exhausted today. Do you want to talk about it?’
‘Not really mum.’ She sank back into the soft sofa and leaned her head back, absorbing the music and tranquillity.
But she did want to talk about it.
‘Well, I’ll be off then. I’ll pop over in the morning. I’ll be here when John comes.’
‘You really don’t need to mum.’
‘I want to love. Family. That’s what’s important.’
She heard the door click as her mother left for the ten minute walk to her own tiny flat on a warden controlled estate for the elderly.
Elderly? Judy thought her mother probably did more for the other residents than the wardens ever did for her.
She emptied her mind and tried to relax. To let the music invade her soul and prevent unwanted thoughts...
But then a killer’s face floated into her head, it leered at her, the front teeth missing, and a lewd purple-pink tongue waggled at her.
She sat bolt upright. It was no good. She would make the call.
She fumbled in her bag for a moment, found her office diary with his number and dialled it before she could change her mind.
‘Doc? It’s Judy Finch. I hope I’m not calling too late?’
The Judge had given her Doc Powers’ mobile number, just in case.
‘Oh. Hi. I erm... How’d it go this afternoon?’ He sounded polite, but a little odd, even uninterested.
She hesitated, wondering if this was a mistake, but ploughed on. ‘I really don’t know... It was, umm, confusing.’ She wanted to say intimidating, frightening, uncomfortable, nauseating. Her pride netted the words before her mouth could release them.
‘Do you want to talk it through? Only I’m – ’
‘It’s okay. Not right now,’ she answered hastily, sensing his reluctance. Was this such a good idea?
There was an awkward silence then he spoke. ‘How about tomorrow? Are you busy?’
‘Not at all Doc. That would be perfect. Any time to fit in with you.’ Relieved.
‘I’ll tell you what... I haven’t cooked for a while but I can actually do a mean curry. If you fancy, I could knock something up for tomorrow evening and we could chat in private at my home. Take our time.’ He sounded eager, almost desperate now.
‘I’d love that. I adore curry.’ And any man who volunteers to cook! ‘That’s a date... Well not exactly.’ She felt her face flush. Jesus!
She made a note of his address and hung up.
Idiot. Hardly a date!
But she felt better just knowing she had someone to share the burden. Someone who understands...
An understanding man.
She poured herself a nightcap and went to bed, the hideous vision thrust from her mind.
***
Leech sat alone, chewing curried beans and baked potatoes, barely tasting the food – it was nothing more than fuel to him.
Gourmets and celebrity chefs, on endless crappy TV shows. He couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. And so many of the tossers in here complained about the grub. Free board and lodgings, most of them were so fucked up they didn’t realise how lucky they were. Better off inside than out.
But Leech wanted out. He could taste it. Not freedom. Oh no. He had long ago come to terms with prison life, its petty regulations and controls. After that first run in with the Governor he realised he had a great deal more freedom inside the nick than he had ever had in the supposedly free world outside. That thought had helped him accept the minimum term of eighteen years... Still, he was ready for release now.
Funny though. He had been pushing hard for a re-grading to a level D facility, an open prison, yet he realised it was a mistake the moment he go
t there. Too many tearaways and no-hopers in for misdemeanours. There was no challenge. Nothing worthy of his time, nothing worth lording it over. Within a couple of weeks he was bored, asked to be transferred back here. That had shocked them.
Idiots.
No, he had achieved all he needed at Ford. He had been out on supervised day release searching for a flat to buy. And he found one in the ideal place.
Overlooking his cunt of a brother’s office.
Oh yes. See you soon big bruv.
Freedom meant something different to Leech. Inside he had plenty. Parole meant something else to him too. Something precious.
Revenge.
His jaw muscles pulsated as he chewed his food, the ill-fitting denture moving inside his mouth, a constant reminder of who put him inside.
He finished his meal, burped, and scanned the other cons, chatting, arguing, laughing in groups on the other tables.
Morons.
He picked up his plastic tray, the surface scoured clean in his quest for calories to replace those burnt in the gym, and dumped it on the counter.
On his way back to his cell he spoke to the senior warder. ‘Mister Diarmud’ – Leech exaggerated the syllables, pronouncing the name Dire Mud – ‘Young Johnny Bloom asked to see me after dinner. Would eight-thirty be ok?’
Diarmud eyeballed him. ‘You don’t fool me with that Listener shit Leech. I see right through you, you evil bastard. If I had my way you’d die in this place. Fucking parole. You jammy git.’ There was hatred tinged with resignation in his tone.
‘That’s as maybe, Mister Dire Mud. And no doubt I too would be twisted, bitter and cynical if I had worked in here for thirty years.’ Leech was proud of himself. There was no way he would let this twat provoke him, despite many years of trying. ‘But Johnny’s having a hard time. You know? I’d say more but I’m sworn to secrecy.’ He put his finger to his lips and shushed. ‘Surely you wouldn’t deny the poor lad access to a sympathetic Listener’s ear... I’m sure the Governor – ’
‘Just piss off back to your cell. Eight-thirty. You’ll be escorted.’
Leech licked his lips, letting his tongue linger as he did it, then pouted a kiss for the warder before he spun on his heels and laughed all the way back to his room.
Diarmud watched him go, shaking his head, his face screwed up as if he had just chewed a rotten maggot-ridden apple, and then been forced to swallow.
***
Leech waited on his bed, his cell door, like all the others, closed as part of ‘lock up,’ the worst time for most prisoners. But not for him. Not for the Snake.
He had managed to wriggle and slither his way through the system, finally achieving the lofty status of Listener. He was one of the select few prison trustees who had been trained by the Samaritans to help other convicts who were finding time hard to do. The suicidal, the despairing, even those who just wanted to talk, to get the guilt off their chests.
The latest Governor, a bleeding-heart liberal, had been keen to promote the scheme when he first arrived some years ago. Leech had volunteered, purely for the enhanced privileges.
But now he loved it!
Not the listening. He had little time for the other cons, their endless whingeing and whining, the self pity and weakness that lay like pus under a scab, just waiting to burst open.
Oh no. Definitely not.
But some of them did have fantastic tales to tell. Details of crimes, betrayals and evil deeds that most people could never comprehend. Truly a masterclass for him. And far better than the cinema or TV. True crime in the raw and Leech sucked it all in, absorbed it and stored it away for future reference.
The entertainment value alone was worth the effort and his learning curve about the criminal psyche had been ballistic. But more important to him was the freedom the role provided.
He had achieved the highest level of privilege for an inmate. He was allowed to wander the corridors during lock up, while the muppets in here were facing up to sixteen hours a day in cells measuring just six by ten feet. He made the most of it, and almost every day someone ‘asked’ to see him. And everything they discussed was in total confidence, just like the real Samaritans.
Leech’s door clanged open. A ginger mopped warder gestured to him, not even bothering to address him. Leech didn’t care, he just followed, in no hurry now he was out of his cell.
He whistled again, happily mulling over the very best reason for being a Listener. They came to Johnny’s cell and Leech stepped in. The boy was like a deer caught in blinding headlights, fear creasing his features at the sight of Leech, dark rings under his eyes, his anguish not registering on the warder as the door slammed shut, leaving the two convicts alone.
‘Hello Johnny boy. Sit down son...’ Leech pushed Bloom back to the bed, the hard mattress against the back of the boy’s knees, forcing him to sit. ‘And keep your hands open and where I can see them.’
‘Please don’t... Can’t we just – ’
‘Shush boy. Just be good to me and open up. And no talking with your mouth full. Remember your manners!’
Leech caressed the boy’s head, then held him, letting his thumbs work lightly on Bloom’s eyelids, not enough to hurt, but enough to warn him and to control the movements, the leisurely rocking to and fro, dominating the young man.
Leech felt a rush as he revelled in the warmth, the wet softness, the pleasurable sensations spreading through his belly, his back, his legs.
But his mind was not on the boy.
‘Suck it you bitch... Suck it hard, my horny little Birdy.’
***
Saturday did not start well for Judy. She had a whispered row with her mother – they were well practised in the art by now – as Josh busied himself packing toys with the clothes his mother had put out for him, ready for the weekend with his father.
The subject matter was the same tired old one, the same as before the divorce, but now concentrated, acid burning Judy’s conscience whenever her mother started.
‘You don’t need to work so hard, so why on earth do you?’
Her mother went at her almost the moment she entered the house. Judy had been thinking the day might be a good one and her heart slid a few inches in her breast as her mother, meaning well as usual, rubbed the raw nerve of her guilt.
‘The state of you last night! Like a bloomin zombie.’ Gran rarely swore and ‘bloomin’ rated as a powerful curse in her books. ‘Poor Josh needs his mother now more than ever. Why can’t you just... John should provide but you’re just too proud to ask. I don’t know. If you insist on working, then stop putting in such ludicrous hours.’
Judy scraped a hand through her hair, felt lousy from a dreadful night’s sleep. Leech had invaded her dreams, turning them to nightmares, leaving her drained from wrestling the sheets.
‘I don’t need this right now mum.’
‘And Josh doesn’t need an absentee mother!’
Judy let the irritation sound in her voice. ‘I’m not going to waste my life and be chained to the kitchen sink.’ The implication of Judy’s comment seemed totally lost on Gran. She was thankful, she didn’t really want to hurt her mother with the outburst and knew she would regret it if she did. She sighed. ‘Times have changed mum.’
‘Well, not for the better if you ask me.’
‘I’m not.’
The bing-bong of the front door bell brought Josh cantering out of his room, howling down the hall, the word stretched out as he yelled ‘Daddeeeeee!’ He scrabbled at the lock, swung the door open and bear-hugged his father’s thighs, almost unbalancing the man.
Saved by the bell. Judy was rarely pleased to see John these days, but right now she was glad of the interruption, the chance of a truce with her mother as her ex-husband stood ruffling their son’s hair, love plastered on his grinning chops as he gazed down at the little boy.
She stood in the hall as Josh dragged his father in, John pecking her cheek as he passed her.
‘Hi Judy.’
She allowed the familiarity, did not want Josh to feel any animosity between his parents, wanted no fuss in front of him. She detested John for it, but acquiesced for the sake of her son.
Despite how she felt after she found out about the affair. No, she thought, affair was the wrong word for it, far too gentle a euphemism for what he was doing. Shagging his secretary in his office most nights. Working late, he’d said. The lying bastard.
She smiled at him now, the veneer cracked and worn but still there, masking the pain and the strangled love that was gradually morphing into hatred.
‘I’ll make some tea.’
She went into the kitchen, leaving her mother with Josh and John to finish packing his things. The few moments alone allowed her to unwind, to shed some emotional baggage before her ex-husband reappeared.
Josh was jumping up and down, pogo-ing into the kitchen behind his father as Judy asked, ‘Any plans for the weekend?’
She almost dropped the mug of tea she was offering her ex when Josh squeaked his excitement in reply. ‘Mummy! We’re going on a heckilopter. Up high over London!’
Oh God! She eyeballed John.
‘Sorry hon. I should’ve said...’
Judy fumed inwardly: Don’t call me that! I’m not your honey any more. Was he deliberately winding her up today?
‘Meant to call you Thursday when I got the word. Have to go to the States Monday, may be there six weeks. Maybe more.’ He shrugged, his disarming smile ineffectual, the charm incapable of breaching her armour ever again. ‘You know how it is.’
Bastard. ‘Yes John. I know exactly how it is. Are you taking your secretary?’
His smile evaporated at the cheap shot. Judy felt her satisfaction immediately obliterated by concern that Josh had picked up on her hostile tone. He was watching her now, still as a statue, puzzled. She forced some levity into her voice. ‘So you’re going on a helicopter flight? Don’t forget to take – ’
‘To take his puffer.’ John hoisted the boy up so that their eyes were level. ‘We won’t forget will we Josh?’ He glanced at Judy over his son’s shoulder. ‘And we will be careful. So don’t worry.’
Josh frowned. ‘Will I need to use my puffer? On the heckilopter?’ Judy could feel the panic rising in him, the prospect of a perfect trip with his father no longer such a source of wonderment.
Remorseless: A British Crime Thriller (Doc Powers & D.I. Carver Investigate #1) Page 6