by Dani Oakley
Once the words left her mouth, Babs noticed that Mean Maud wasn’t alone. A tall, thin man in uniform stood beside her.
“And who the hell are you?” Babs demanded, keeping up the bravado even though she was starting to feel nervous.
Mean Maud stepped forward and raised her wooden stick before bashing it loudly against the door, making Babs jump back in fright.
“That’s enough of your lip, Morton. We are here to search your cell.”
“My cell?” Babs repeated. “What for?”
“We have reason to believe you have contraband in your possession.”
“You’re having a laugh…”
Babs stared in disbelief as Maud opened the cell door and she and the male prison guard entered.
He was a mean-looking bastard, and Babs wouldn’t have been surprised to find out Mean Maud had picked him especially for this little task.
He clicked his fingers and then pointed out into the corridor. “Get your backsides out of the cell. We’re conducting a search, and prisoners must be five feet away at all times.”
All the women staggered out into the cold corridor. They folded their arms across their chests and shivered as they huddled together, watching the so-called search unfold.
They upturned everything they could, stripped sheets from the beds, dumped all personal possessions on the floor. Babs bit down hard on her lower lip. The bastards were just doing this for fun. Maud flicked through the pages of Jane’s Bible, scrunching it up and tearing the pages.
Babs had never been a religious woman, but she knew how important the Bible was to Jane. Many women turned to God in here when everyone else had failed them. Babs took a deep breath and patted Jane’s arm, trying to urge her to keep it together. They couldn’t let the screws see this was upsetting them.
Tears swam in Jane’s eyes as Maud dumped the bible on the floor and kicked it under the bed.
It was then that Babs lost her temper. There was nothing contraband in their cell. Babs had made sure all the women knew they had to toe the line over the next few weeks. She wasn’t risking her release date for anything or anybody.
Mean Maud was just trying to wind her up, and it was working.
“You’re nothing but a jumped up old trout, and everybody laughs behind your back because you’re so pathetic. Look at you, you’ve just come up with this search to get a bit of attention. Fancy him, do you?” Babs said, nodding at the tall, thin man who was currently rifling through Liz’s pillowcase.
There were hoots of laughter and raucous comments from other prisoners along the corridor, who had been woken by the commotion.
A flush of colour rose on Maud’s face and her mouth twisted into a scowl. “Don’t be so ridiculous, you dirty-minded bitch!”
Babs cackled with laughter. “I think I touched a nerve there, ladies,” she said and looked around at her cellmates, expecting them to be egging her on, but instead they all looked terrified.
Lily-livered lightweights the lot of them, Babs thought, and turned her hard stare back to Maud.
“You’re going to pay for that,” Maud said, her eyes gleaming.
Babs laughed in her face and leant back against the wall, pretending she didn’t give two hoots that these two bastards were ripping her cell apart.
They were there for another twenty minutes, and as Babs expected, they didn’t find anything. Babs had smiled smugly as Maud locked them back up.
But after the two prison guards had left, Babs felt her chest grow tight as she looked at the devastation they had left behind.
The women began remaking their beds, and Gertie shuffled up to Babs. “I don’t think you should have said that. She’s going to have it in for you now.”
Babs shrugged as she stuffed her pillow back in the case. “Oh, what’s she going to do? It was just a bit of backchat. You worry too much, Gertie. Everything is going to be fine.”
Chapter 15
The following morning, Babs woke up feeling stiff and sore. She hadn’t had anywhere near enough sleep. Of course, that hadn’t been helped by Mean Maud and her thin, male companion searching the cells last night, but even after they’d left, Babs had still been unable to sleep. Thinking about revenge consumed her every waking thought, and now she was dreaming about getting even, too.
When she’d finally drifted off last night, she’d dreamt she was about to get her own back on Martin. She’d walked into the boozer to confront him only to find, to her horror, that she was stark naked and everyone was laughing at her. She’d woken up in a cold sweat.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to force the memory of the dream out of her head. She heard the grunts and groans from other prisoners along the corridor as everyone slowly got dressed and ready for the second sitting for breakfast.
Babs dragged her fingers through her hair and did her best to tidy it up. She had long since given up her vanity, but touching her hair reminded her that she would soon be on the outside and would have to do something about her appearance. She could just imagine what the gossip would be like if she turned up in the East End looking like this.
That wouldn’t do at all. She needed to go back to Poplar looking stylish. She needed to make Martin see that he hadn’t beaten her down.
She shrugged on her clothes and smothered another yawn.
When she’d first been in prison, both Martin and Dave Carter had been at the top of her revenge list, but now that she’d had time to think things through, she realised that Dave Carter hadn’t actually been trying to stitch her up. He’d set his sights on Martin, and she’d just been caught in the crossfire. Knowing that didn’t make her feel any warmth towards Dave Carter, but he wasn’t her primary concern any longer.
She would need to focus all her attention on Martin if her plan of revenge was to come to fruition.
“Are you all right, Babs?” Gertie asked, looking concerned. “You look like you’re miles away, love.”
Babs gave a half-hearted smile. She had been miles away. “I’m fine, Gertie. Just tired,” she said as she followed her cell mates out of the unlocked door. The women trailed along the corridor towards the large canteen where they ate all of their meals.
As soon as they walked into the cavernous room, Babs’s sharp eyes caught sight of Gwynn Jones, who was standing at the serving station again.
“Oh, for Gawd’s sake,” Babs mumbled under her breath. “That’s all I need.”
Jane, who was walking a few steps ahead of Babs, turned around. “What’s wrong?”
Babs shook her head in irritation. “Only that jumped up little madam.” She nodded at Gwynn Jones, who seemed to sense people were watching her and looked up.
Despite the fierce glare Babs was giving her, Gwynn didn’t appear daunted at all. Instead, she put a hand on her hip and smirked.
“I’ve not seen her around much,” Jane said. “She must be new. I hope she’s not going to cause trouble in here.”
“You can mark my words, Jane, that lady is definitely going to be trouble. I feel it in my water,” Gertie said.
Jane wrinkled her nose but didn’t comment further.
Babs decided that Gwynn Jones wasn’t worthy of her attention and studiously avoided eye contact as she stood in the line for breakfast.
Everyone around her was chattering and gossiping, but Babs stayed silent, fuming. At any other time, Babs would have put Gwynn Jones in her place, but with her release imminent, she just couldn’t risk it.
When Babs finally got in front of the serving station, she lifted her chin, and her gaze clashed with Gwynn’s. Before Babs could open her mouth to say what she wanted for breakfast, Gwynn took a huge spoonful of eggs and slapped them down on Babs’s tray, completely missing her plate and covering Babs’s hand.
The eggs were hot, and Babs’s first reaction was to flick the eggs from her hand. Scrambled eggs splattered over the next few women in line, who squealed in displeasure.
Immediately, all hell broke loose. People were sho
uting and throwing food, and it was some moments before the prison guards managed to subdue the prisoners.
Babs groaned as Mean Maud seemed to appear from nowhere. She shoved her face at Babs and smiled nastily.
“I should have known you’d be behind it, Morton,” Mean Maud said.
Babs started to argue but then her shoulders slumped, and she let out a sigh. “Never mind.”
They weren’t going to believe her if she told them it wasn’t her fault, so there wasn’t any point. She needed to just accept her punishment and get on with the day. Besides, she’d only spilt a little bit of scrambled egg. Surely her punishment wouldn’t be too severe.
“The trouble with you prisoners is, you have no respect for property. There are people who don’t have enough to eat, and you are chucking food around, wasting perfectly good eggs.”
Gertie snickered beside Babs, drawing the wrath of Mean Maud. “Do you think this is funny?”
Gertie’s sniggers stopped immediately, and she shook her head.
After giving her a stern look, Mean Maud turned back to Babs. “You can come and see me after breakfast. I have the perfect punishment in mind for you.” She glanced over Babs’s shoulder, looking at Gertie and added, “And you can come as well.”
“Why? What did I do?” Gertie protested.
“I don’t have to justify myself to you,” Maud said. “Just do as you’re told.”
Babs, Gertie, Liz and Jane walked away from the serving area and sat down at one of the benches, grumbling about the unfairness of the situation. Babs certainly had no appetite for her eggs any longer and pushed her tray away.
She couldn’t wait to get out and have a proper cooked breakfast with crispy bacon. Her mouth watered at the thought of it.
Jane and Liz left soon afterwards, and the other women followed them out slowly as Babs and Gertie remained in their seats.
They had been in the second and final sitting for breakfast, so there were no more prisoners to be served.
Gertie made a few attempts at conversation, but Babs really wasn’t in the mood and instead passed the time staring daggers at Gwynn Jones.
Babs wouldn’t have called herself naive, not after so much time in prison. She thought she’d seen it all, and she was confident that after giving them some grim task, like scrubbing the stove, Mean Maud would be satisfied and would let Babs and Gertie retreat to the recreation area.
She was so confident this was the case that when Mean Maud crooked her finger and beckoned her into the kitchen behind the serving area, Babs sauntered nonchalantly across the room. She was determined not to let Gwynn or Maud know they were able to rile her.
She felt the first prickle of unease when she stepped inside the kitchen and realised everybody else had left, apart from Gwynn and Maud.
Babs shot a quick look behind her and saw Gertie was also looking worried.
“Go on then,” Babs said, feeling on edge. “What lovely job have you got for us?”
Maud exchanged a look with Gwynn and then smiled. “It’s right over here,” she said.
Maud pointed to the hob. It was huge and caked with grime and grease.
Babs let out a sigh. Just what she had expected.
She walked over to the stove top and looked at Maud with a sneer before looking down at the disgusting mess she was expected to clean up.
She opened her mouth to give some kind of half-hearted protest, even though she knew it wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t get out of it.
But before she could speak, or even reach for a scrubbing brush to get started, she felt Maud grab hold of her hair and force her head down hard against the gas hob.
Maud’s hip drove into her, pressing her firmly against the metal worktop. Babs struggled, but couldn’t get free. Babs knew this was some sort of power game and although it irritated her no end, a small voice in her head urged her to put up with it. She wouldn’t have to tolerate Maud for much longer.
She was so convinced Maud was just trying to scare her that she even stopped struggling.
Then Maud switched on the gas.
“No,” a voice roared, and at first, Babs thought it was hers then she realised it was Gertie.
“Get off me, you little bitch!” Gertie screeched.
Although Babs couldn’t see them, she guessed that Gwynn Jones was restraining Gertie somehow.
Babs made a half-hearted attempt to move away from the gas. The bloody stuff stank, but she knew she wouldn’t be gassed to death. There was far too much fresh air in the huge kitchen.
So she breathed shallowly and waited for Mean Maud to make her point and get on with it.
She kept perfectly calm until she heard the strike of a match. Babs’s blood ran cold, and she bucked desperately against Maud, trying to get free.
She managed to raise her head a few inches from the hob, but she couldn’t get back any further because Maud held her fast.
Maud was a big woman, and Babs had lost weight in prison. She didn’t stand a chance with that fat lump pushed against her.
Maud held the lit match close to Babs’s face, and Babs struggled like mad.
The sick cow wanted to burn her face-off!
Babs kicked like a banshee against Maud’s shins, but she may as well have been kicking a sack of spuds. Maud didn’t budge.
Then they heard a voice coming from the canteen area, and Maud froze. “Don’t say a word,” she warned Babs in a whisper. “Or I swear I will scar you for life.”
Babs weighed up her options. Should she take a chance and appeal to whoever was out there for help?
Before Babs could decide, Maud ordered Gwynn outside to deal with the newcomer.
“Stay where you are,” Maud ordered Gertie. “Unless you want me to do the same to you.”
Babs heard Gertie say, “Not bloody likely,” as she launched herself at Maud.
Babs felt Maud’s weight lift, and immediately she straightened up, whirling around ready to defend herself.
Now that she had freed Babs, Gertie took a step back, drawing the line at hurting a prison officer.
Babs was panting like a dog on a hot day. She didn’t know whether it was the effect of the gas or the effect of being scared out of her wits.
Maud dropped the match to the floor as it singed her fingers. For a moment, she took her eyes off both Gertie and Babs.
Later, Babs wouldn’t be able to explain why she did it. Her head with filled with fury as her fingers fumbled along the top of the hob before latching onto a heavy, cast iron frying pan. She raised the pan above her head and slammed it against the side of Maud’s skull.
Maud wobbled for a moment, like a skittle, and then she toppled over, smashing her head against the corner of the oven.
Babs put the pan back on the hob with a clatter as she stared in horror at what she had done. Blood was pouring out of the wound on the side of Maud’s head and seeping its way across the floor as Maud remained motionless on the cracked tiles.
She felt Gertie’s hand on her shoulder. “She’s not… dead, is she?”
Babs didn’t know how anybody could have survived a wound like that. She shivered as she knelt down and reached out to prod Maud. “She looks dead to me. Oh, Jesus, Gertie. What am I going to do? I can’t let anyone find out I did this. Quick, help me hide the body.”
Gertie shook her head. “Don’t be daft, woman. Where on earth can we hide a body in a prison kitchen? Gwynn is only just outside. She’ll notice Maud is missing and she won’t be able to miss the huge puddle of sodding blood on the floor.”
Babs raised a shaky hand to her mouth. How could this have happened? She had been so close to getting free, so close to cuddling her children again, and so close to getting her revenge on Martin.
She stared in abject misery at Maud’s body, hating the woman more than ever. She didn’t feel sorry for her at all. The nasty cow had it coming.
Gertie snatched the frying pan from the hob, rubbed the handle on her top and then quickly dumped it in the si
nk, which was still full of soapy liquid.
Before Babs could have another go at trying to persuade Gertie to help her hide Maud, Gwynn burst back into the kitchen.
Babs felt a small amount of satisfaction as she witnessed the smug smile leave Gwynn’s face.
When she caught sight of Maud’s body on the floor, Gwynn’s eyes opened wide. “What have you done? You’ve killed her!”
Babs shook her head, trying to think fast. “No, she fell. We didn’t do anything.”
Gwynn began to back up, as though she was afraid Gertie and Babs were about to turn on her.
Then Gertie spoke up, “Babs is just covering for me. I hit her with a frying pan.”
Babs turned around to look at Gertie. “You can’t say that. I won’t let you.”
Before Babs could set the record straight, Gwynn Jones fled the kitchen screaming bloody murder.
Chapter 16
Trevor glared at his father over the breakfast table. Every morning it was the same old routine. His father always found some reason to tell him off.
His father was ignoring him now because he had asked to borrow some money. Trevor was fuming his father had refused. It wasn’t as if his old man wasn’t rolling in it. Everyone knew Dave Carter was turning over a tidy profit down at the workshop and the warehouse, not to mention all those dodgy deals that he tried to keep secret from Trevor.
The only sound in the kitchen was the ticking of the kitchen clock and the slurping noise from Georgie as he finished the last of his tea.
Georgie never got in trouble. His father doted on him.
Trevor loved his brother, but there was no denying that Georgie was a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Despite that, he had always been their father’s favourite.
Trevor pushed his half-eaten bacon and eggs away from him on the table. He was sick of going through this routine in the morning. He had decided to make an effort again to join his father and Georgie at breakfast, but Trevor was starting to wish he hadn’t bothered. His father prepared breakfast for all of them and then sat at the table as if they were the perfect family, completely ignoring the fact that Trevor’s mother sat at the end of the kitchen table still in her nightdress and drugged up to her eyeballs as usual. Their family was a joke.