“Oh! Charlie, don’t be so daft. I don’t care if you like girls or boys or both for that matter. I just care about you and your happiness. I’ve lost one brother and nothing on this earth is going to make me give up the other one, do you hear me, Charlie? Do you?” Charlie wiped away the tears then hugged Janie like his life depended on it.
“Somehow, I knew you’d understand,” he began. “But what about dad? grandad? The rest of the family?”
“They’ll understand, Charlie, I’m sure they will. Dad services that really camp bloke that lives with his disabled mother. He won’t have a bad word said against him. Thinking about it, I reckon grandad already knows, or at least has his suspicions.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Rose told me that grandad suggested you helped out with all their wedding arrangements. He told Rose you had an uncanny woman’s eye for those sorts of things.”
“I wondered why she asked me to help, not you or Anne or Megan. She told me it was because you all lived so far away. She obviously didn’t want me to know what grandad had said.” Charlie laughed at the thought of his grandad making those remarks to his wife-to-be! Then a memory of his grandad telling him to be himself no matter what others thought came to mind. He’d thought it an odd remark at the time but now it made perfect sense.
“Why don’t we get all the family together this weekend coming? I’ll make sure Megan comes. I’ll cook us all a nice meal then afterwards I’ll help you break the news to everyone, if you want. Let’s get it out in the open, eh? You know how important it is in this family to be upfront about things. No secrets, Charlie. Nothing good has ever come from this family harbouring secrets. You know that, so what do you say?”
“Okay, Janie, okay! If you’ll just hold my hand, I’ll can do the rest.” They hugged once more, then Charlie started up the engine and eased back out onto the road. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Good old Janie. She always seemed to know how to make everything right!
ELSIE & HARRY
May 1984
Elsie squinted at the ceiling in her cell. Her left eye was closing up fast with the swelling around it and she could taste the metallic tang of blood from her bust lip on her tongue. She didn’t need to look in her small mirror to know that she looked a fright.
“Damn you to hell and back, Jane Elizabeth FUCKING Arnold,” she screamed at the top of her voice. She glanced around at her little cell. With its grey peeling paint on the walls, heavy-duty metal door and small barred window set up high, it was no palace, but it was hers, but for how much longer? The TV news had run a story on the fastest-selling book in twenty years. It was a harmless enough story except it had then gone on to outline the life of the author! The author being Janie! So, there for all the wing to see, was Elsie, the mother who had killed her eldest son, brother to this wonderful writer. It had all kicked off then, with most of the kicks being landed on Elsie. Elsie tittered to herself at that thought. Ironic, really! Most of the women on this wing were murderers! Oh! You could murder your husband, his mistress or your lesbian lover. Christ! you could even murder your own mother and father or some random stranger out on the street and no one in here would bat an eyelid. But murder a child, especially your own, and you were a monster. One step up from Hindley, the other inmates had chanted as the screws fought to shield her and leed her back to the safety of her cell. Now the whole wing was in lockdown.
For almost a year now she’d been the queen bee on the block. Oh! They knew she was in for murder, but they hadn’t known it was her own son she’d run a knife through. Elsie had made sure of that. She’d enjoyed her run of the wing, the freedom, but now that was all over because of Janie. Now she’d be back in solitary, shipped out to some godforsaken hellhole of a prison. All because of that fucking ginger bitch!
“Warden,” Elsie screamed at the top of her voice. “WARRRRRDENNNN.” She continued to yell until the hatch in her cell door dropped open and a screw’ face appeared in the gap.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP,” spat the prison officer at her.
“I WILL WHEN I’M ISSUED A VO,” spat Elsie back her.
“And just who do you think is gonna want to visit you?” taunted the officer.
“My ex-husband, if he knows what’s fucking good for him. Now make sure I get one ASAP.”
“Oh, I’ll get you one, Elsie, just to see the look on your face when he doesn’t turn up!” laughed the screw as she slammed shut the hatch on the door and rammed the bolt across.
“Oh! he’ll come,” whispered Elsie to the closed door. “He’ll come.”
***
Harry sat upright in the hard-plastic chair in the visitors’ room of the prison, his hands firmly clenched together on his lap. He knew the minute he saw the prison emblem on the envelope what was inside. He’d half been expecting it since the day Janie’s book had hit the bookshelves. Now here he was waiting to come face to face with Elsie.
Harry watched as the inmates filed into the room. They seemed to drag their feet and looked like they had the weight of the world on their shoulders. And then Elsie appeared. Her head was held high, with her shoulders back and a look of pure defiance on her face. She strode across the room and elegantly sat down at the table opposite Harry.
“You look rather handsome, Harry. Do you ever miss me, I wonder?” Elsie smiled sweetly at him, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
“About as much as you’d miss being locked up,” replied Harry.
“I see you’ve developed a sense of humour,” Elsie shot back.
“I’ve developed a lot of things, Elsie, while you’ve been rotting away in here.” Harry noticed a slight squirm from Elsie. She wasn’t used to Harry answering her back.
“I hope you’ve developed a healthy bank account, Harry, because if you want me to keep our little secret about Janie quiet, it’s going to take a whole wedge of cash to do it!” Harry just smiled at Elsie. He’d gathered this was why she’d suddenly sent for him.
“I guess you know about Janie’s book deal?” he offered.
“Oh! I know. I took a beating because that little ginger bitch got her fucking face plastered all over the fucking TV, dragging up the past.” The mask had dropped now. There, in all her glory was the real Elsie.
“You’re the one who committed murder, Elsie, not Janie. You can’t blame her if the other inmates turned on you.”
“OH! YES, I FUCKING CAN,” she yelled at Harry. He watched as a prison officer made to come across and restrain Elsie. Harry waved and nodded to say everything was fine. The officer stepped back to her post. Elsie relaxed back into her chair.
“They’re going to move me come the end of the month. Ship me off to some maximum security prison and then lock me up with a bunch of child killers. They say it’s for my own safety. I ask ya? How can being locked up with some freaks who’ve done despicable things to little kiddies be the best thing for me? I ain’t NO FREAK.”
“You killed our son, Elsie. Our little Freddy. He idolised you. How could you just take his life and move on with your own as if it was nothing?” Elsie leaned across the table and looked into Harry’s eyes.
“If you’d kept an eye on him, none of this would have happened, but no, you let him go around poking his nose into other people’s business. MY BUSINESS. He shouldn’t have come looking for me. If he’d stayed away we’d all be living out our lives in peace, but the little BASTARD couldn’t let it drop, could he? Had to keep coming after me, spoiling my plans. He left me no choice, Harry. He really didn’t.” Harry was shocked by how cavalier she was with it all. Blaming away her vile selfish actions on others. Placing Freddy’s death on him and Freddy himself. Anger welled up inside him, but he fought to keep it contained. He wasn’t about to lose his self-control in front of her, not now, not here, not today!
“Freddy wanted to tell you to keep away from us, that was all! He h
adn’t come to drag you back home or spoil your plans, as you say. All he wanted was for you to stay away from us. He didn’t deserve to die for that, Elsie.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t asked you here to discuss Freddy; you’re here to make arrangements for me to get regular money and parcels and in return I’ll not go blabbing that you’re not Janie’s father.” She’d slumped back in the chair now and casually began lighting up a cigarette. Now it was Harry’s turn to lean across the table.
“I AM JANIE’S FATHER, always have been, always will be, end of. Go ahead and blab as much as want, Elsie, but be it on your head what happens to you. I mean, if those other prisoners didn’t take to kindly to you doing your own son in, how do you think they’ll feel about you bragging you left your daughter with another man? I’m imagining that won’t go down well at all, will it? Now let’s look back at what the judge said, shall we? He said you was to serve a minimum of fifteen years before parole could be considered. That parole board won’t take to kindly to you destroying your daughter’s life, will it? Because that’s what it will do, Elsie, believe me. I’m going to get up and go now. God only knows why, but I’ve left you a parcel and a postal order for a hundred pounds at the main office. It’ll be passed on to you once visiting is over. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go back to your cell and forget all about us and then maybe, just maybe you’ll live to walk out of prison one day.” With that Harry pushed his chair out and stood up.
“You ain’t seen or heard the last of me, Harry Arnold.” Harry turned to look one last time at Elsie.
“Oh, I hope I have, Elsie, for your sake, I really do. Let’s both hope our next meeting is one in which you’re wearing a pine overcoat.” Harry turned and walked towards the exit. The sooner he got out of this place the better.
***
At the third time of asking, the parcel from Harry was delivered to Elsie. Inside were a carton of cigarettes, two pouches of tobacco, several books of matches and fag papers. A hand rolling cigarette machine, soap, shampoo, deodorant and a small bottle of her favourite perfume. It also contained a sponge bag, sponge, flannel, hairbrush, a bag of mints, some chewing gum and a packet of assorted toffees. All Elsie’s favourites. There was also a brown prison-issue envelope with a small accounts book inside with her name and number on it. The amount inside read ‘one hundred pounds only’. Elsie laid all the items out on the bed. They wouldn’t last her for the rest of her sentence, but they would make a start on making her life inside more comfortable. It’s 1984, thought Elsie; come July 1997, she’d be eligible for parole, like Harry had said. She’d be sixty-two. If she kept out of trouble and looked after herself, she could still make a life for herself, couldn’t she? And once she was out, there’d be no reason not to let the cat out of the bag would there? Maybe she’d be able to get a book deal, just like darling little Janie.
JOSEF
July 1984
Josef bumped along in the passenger seat of the old utility truck. It was about a five-hour drive into Perth from where he’d been living this past ten months in Marvel Loch, Western Australia. Steve Reilly, his saviour, was at the wheel.
Steve had found Josef beaten half to death in some alley in Bangkok. He’d carried him back to the small shanty he was renting and had not only nursed his cuts and bruises but saved his life. He’d been the one to help Josef kick his drug addiction and clean his life up. For two whole months, he’d never left Josef’s side. Steve had cleared out his room at the squalid apartment block he’d been lodging in. He’d provided Josef with food and clothing and had paid for everything. When Josef had asked him why, he’d gone on to explain that, just like him, his kid sister Irene had gone off in search of adventure. When she stopped calling home, Steve had gone in search of her. He’d found her, there, in Bangkok. Unfortunately for Steve and his family they’d been too late. She’d been gang raped and then beaten to death. The police had arrested her several times for prostitution prior to her demise. That had been over four years ago, and still no one had been charged with her murder. Steve had returned to Bangkok every year since to rescue vulnerable people like his sister.
When it was time for Steve to return to the family sheep farm he’d asked Josef if he’d like to join them or he’d pay for his return ticket home. Josef had instantly chosen to go with him. At least that way he could make a small dent in all that he owed Steve.
Josef had been expecting to work for the Reilly’s, but he hadn’t expected to be welcomed into their home as part of the family. Phil and Jean Reilly had treated him like one of their own from the minute they’d met them at Perth airport. For the past ten months, he’d not only learnt how to be a sheep farmer but how to ride a horse and fly a small plane and had also been encouraged to take up photography again. The last part had been the easiest. The scenery was breath-taking and there was so much to photograph. He’d made a lot of money selling his photographs to the small store in town and the wider community. He’d made more than enough for a return ticket home and that’s where he was heading right now.
“We’re making good time,” commented Steve. “Should make Perth in plenty of time to pick up Mum’s books, check into a hotel, shower and get us some grub, washed down with plenty of grog. What’dya say, Joe?”
“Sounds good. One last night in Oz with my best buddy.”
“We’ll go check out the flights back to the UK first thing tomorrow, that’s unless you change your mind and decide to stay here with us!”
“I’ll be back, Steve. I just need to put things right with Janie, that’s all. I need to tell her I was wrong to go off like I did. I need to tell her that I still love her and will do anything to win her back. I have to give it a go, Steve, I really do.”
“No worries, mate. I understand. After all, I keep going back to Bangkok to try and put things right.”
Josef patted his companion on the back.
“You’ve done a fantastic job with me, Steve. You saved my life. In fact, you gave me back my life, only better somehow. Maybe you can forgive yourself now and concentrate on your own life. Plenty of sheila’s would jump at a chance with you, mate.” Steve looked across at Josef and smiled.
“I tell you what? You come back with that girl of yours on your arm and I’ll go find me one of my own! What’dya say? Deal?” Steve held out his hand for Josef to shake.
“Deal!” replied Josef, shaking the extended hand.
In no time at all, Steve was parking up the ute outside a large bookstore on one of Perth’s busy high streets. Both men clambered out of the vehicle and into the store. Steve headed straight for the counter to collect his mum’s order. Fifty books of different genres packed into two boxes for her to read. Josef wandered a little further into the huge store. As he turned to go around a large bookcase into another aisle he came face to face with a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Janie! There she stood in all her glory! Red curls, emerald eyes, freckles and a smile that you just knew reached her eyes. Josef stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Janie. Why? How?
“She’s absolutely gorgeous, isn’t she?” a female sales assistant remarked. “She’s the bestselling author of the book Letters Straight from the Heart; here, would you like a copy?” Not taking his eyes off Janie, Josef took the offered book.
“She’s taken the UK and Europe by storm and has made a huge impression in the United States. We’ve only had the books a couple of days and we’re close to selling out already.”
“It’s Janie Arnold, isn’t it?” Josef managed to get out.
“Yes, sir, it is. You say it as if you know her?” she commented. Josef glanced at the photo of Bea on the books dust jacket.
“I do. I did,” stuttered Josef.
“Did you know the lady the book’s about?” she asked. Josef nodded.
“Yes, yes, her aunt Bea. Janie always called her either Busy Bea or Beautiful Bea. She looked like a dark-haired version of Diana Dors. S
he was good to me. I let her down…” Josef tailed off.
“In what way, sir?” enquired the sales assistant.
“Joe, there you are, crikey mate, I’d thought I’d lost you there. Holy mother of God, Joe, that’s your sheila?” exclaimed Steve as he realised what had captivated his buddy. “No wonder you wanna go get her back! She’s bloody gorgeous!”
“Sir, can I ask that you keep your voice down?”
“Yeah, yeah, just got a little excited that’s all, no harm done, eh?” Steve ushered Josef back towards the counter. “Come on mate. Let’s grab mum’s books and pay for that one, you’re gripping it like your life depends on it and go get ya a stiff drink, eh?” Josef just let Steve lead him to the counter. He watched as he settled his mother’s bill and paid for the book he was still holding on to.
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