At that moment the same butch officer came back into her cell and, snapping handcuffs around Erin’s wrists, led her out to the reception area. Panic was beginning to rise in Erin’s chest. What the hell did they think she had done? The officer pushed her into line with other prisoners who were jostling and shouting at one another. No sign of Bobby, so either he hadn’t been arrested or he had been taken to a different station. Two prisoners at the head of the line began scrapping. Spanish discipline was by means of a metal truncheon.
The prisoners were bundled into the back of a meat wagon and driven a short distance to the courthouse. On arrival they were housed in a single cell: five men and three women crammed in together.
One huge brute of a man relieved himself where he stood, as soon as the cell door closed. The stream of hot, stinking urine splashed everyone, but no-one uttered a word.
The morning dragged on and on. The heat in the small, windowless room grew more and more unbearable. One by one the detainees were ushered into court and dealt with accordingly. Just before noon it was her turn. How the hell did anyone know her name? She had been unconscious when she arrived and no-one had taken any particulars. And as far as she knew she had had no I.D. on her. Before she entered the courtroom, a young man rushed in and introduced himself as the court attorney assigned to her. He spoke virtually no English, but he did however, manage to convey that she had been caught in possession of class A drugs during a routine stop and search. He thought it was unlikely she would be given bail, but he would try.
The situation was becoming more and more incredible each moment that passed. Erin was absolutely terrified and had no idea what was going on. The proceedings were conducted wholly in Spanish with no translator. Why would the police think she would be carrying drugs, and where had Bobby Mack been when this was going on? Erin had been around clubs and drugs most of her life and whilst she had never been involved, she was no mug. She’d been set up and it could only have been the Macks, but why?
Her appearance in court was bewildering; it was over in a flash and she hadn’t understood a word of what was going on. It looked like the attorney had been paid to make sure she was remanded in custody.
It was all over in minutes. The judge, speaking in broken English, informed Señorita Coyle she had been charged with possession of class A narcotics, resisting arrest and assault. Due to the severity of the charges she would be remanded in custody and her passport held till her trial.
As she was being led out of the court room she was astonished to see a familiar face, but it couldn’t be? There in the public gallery, was the spitting image of Canon O’Farrell, but this man smiling at her was black. How could that be?
Farewell
Gerry waited with Sean until the drugs had taken effect and it was all over. He left him slumped on his bed with the syringe still in his arm. He locked Sean’s bedroom door and both back and front doors from the inside and left number 28 through the dead man’s bedroom window. Thank God Theresa and most of the neighbours were at the party or he would never have got away unnoticed. She was a nosey old mare, but he was out and away on his toes, unseen.
The party was in full swing when Gerry slipped in. Paddy’s acceptance that his brother was just being awkward as usual gave him the alibi he needed. There was no way he could be connected to Sean’s demise and, having succeeded in his mission to pay Sean Coyle back for the havoc he’d wrecked on his family, he should have been more than a little pleased with himself, but not so.
Gerry had thought he would feel satisfied at having achieved his goal and disposed of his nemesis in revenge for what had happened to his wife and children. He had promised himself in prison that he would avenge her death when he’d received the news that his Moira had taken her own life.
Why? He’d asked himself a million times and the answer was always the same: Sean Coyle. The vow that he would personally finish Coyle off had sustained him through his sentence. It had been the sole reason Gerry got out of bed in the morning. Now that he had accomplished his mission there was nothing left for him. If anything, he felt even more desolate than before. Sean’s passing didn’t bring back his beautiful wife and kids. What motive had he now for facing the day? Having taken a life, even that of a low life bastard like Sean Coyle, filled Gerry with unassailable guilt.
His body was found three days later by his landlady. He was lying peacefully on his bed, clutching photographs of a woman and children that she took to be his wife and family; a little group of happy, smiling people. Funny, she had never taken him to be a druggie, but then, you never know.
Family Problems
The partygoers returned home more than a little merry after a great night. Lizzie had to admit to herself she’d been relieved that Sean had not turned up. Like Paddy, she would have spent all evening on tenterhooks, hoping he would behave and not make a show of himself.
His television was still playing and she knocked gently on his bedroom door, “You alright, son? Can I get you anything, a drink, maybe?” But there was no reply, as was often the case. Lord, he could be a right ignorant devil.
“Please yourself, you missed a grand ‘do’, but I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.” And off the birthday girl went to bed.
Party or no party, Lizzie was up at the crack of dawn for her cup of tea, and off to mass. There was no sign of Sean, but his routine was erratic, to say the least. He was either up before her or he would sleep until midday and this morning it was obviously the latter. Hopefully she would get some news from the doctor later today and they’d get him sorted out. No matter how hard it could be sometimes, he was still her son and she would do everything in her power to help him.
But what about her granddaughter? She was quite cross with Erin. Imagine the little madam choosing the Macks over her real family! Bridget had maintained the facade all night that her plane had been delayed. Rubbish. That wee pal of hers had looked like a constipated hen, jumping every time the door opened. There was something amiss and she intended to find out the reason, as soon as she got home. You’d think the older they got, the less worry her family would be. Not hers.
There was still no sign of Sean when she returned home from mass and to her surprise, she had almost a full house for breakfast. It was mid-morning before she had served and cleared up after her visitors and there was still no sign of Sean.
“You awake, son? Do you want me to do you a bit of breakfast?” No reply.
“The big eejit’s in the huff,” she muttered to herself. Well, bugger him.
She intended to visit Paddy and Bridget and find out exactly what was going on, so Sean could fend for himself. “There’s a plate in the fridge, you just need to heat it up. I’ll back around tea-time,” she said to the closed bedroom door and off she went.
Bridget was on the phone when she arrived and Paddy had a face like thunder.
“She’s an inconsiderate, spoilt monkey,” stormed Lizzie’s eldest son, “and it’s entirely your fault,” he pointed at his wife.
“And how exactly do you work that out?” She shouted back at him. “She’s never not stayed in touch before, never. There’s something up.”
“What did Carol have to say?” Lizzie questioned the parents.
“Apparently she saw them off at the airport and was going to spend the week with the Macks. Her last words being that she’d be back for your party. I got a text from her saying the same, but nothing since. I was none too pleased that she didn’t get in touch for the rest of the week, but to be honest, I’ve been so busy I let it go.”
“See! That’s what I mean. She just comes and goes as she pleases, not a bloody thought for anyone else, and now she’s taken up with those Spanish fuckers. We’ll be lucky if we see her this side of Christmas.”
“Don’t be so bloody stupid, and mind your language.”
“Go to hell.” Paddy stormed off out of the sitting room.
“My God, he’s certainly got his dander up,” said Lizzie.
�
�He won’t admit it, but he’s worried sick. I’m going to find Diane’s number and give her a ring.”
“Good idea. I’ve left his lordship still in bed, obviously sulking because nobody came back for him last night.”
“Serves him right. If he’s going to act like a ten-year-old then he can expected to be treated like one. Anyway, it was better without him. You know, this bloody family gets worse as the years go by.”
“I was just thinking that this morning,” said Lizzie.
Bridget spoke into the receiver. “Can I speak with Erin please?”
“Well, Señora Diane then,” Bridget addressed the person at the other end.
“When will she be home?”
“Can you tell Erin to phone her mother?”
“What do you mean she’s not there?”
“What time yesterday? Of course she’s there. Look, just get someone to call me. It’s Señora Coyle, Erin’s mother,” Bridget replaced the receiver.
“What was all that about?”
“The housekeeper says Erin’s not there, that she went home. She’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Jesus, Lizzie, I don’t know.”
“Don’t shout at me, it’s not my fault,” the old lady was getting quite agitated.
“Sorry, I’m a bit worried. It’s not like her and certainly not when she has the wee chap with her. Let’s have some tea and we’ll phone again later.”
The two women went off to the kitchen and spent the next hour going over the previous night’s events.
Eventually Lizzie informed Bridget, “It’s about time I made tracks. You’ll call me when you hear anything?”
“Of course I will. Don’t worry, it’ll be something straightforward. She probably missed her flight. Whatever the reason, I want her back now. I’m really missing her and Ryan.”
“I know, lass, I know. Do you think Paddy would give me a lift home? I’m feeling my age today.”
“Of course he will. I’ll take you if you want?”
“No dear, I want a word with Paddy and he can’t walk away if he’s driving.”
”I take it he’s not going to like what you’ve got to say?”
“No, possibly not, but it’s something he needs to know.”
“Bye, Lizzie. I’ll ring you later.”
“Look, Ma, I’m not coming in if he’s in the house,” Paddy was adamant.
“Please, son. I have to get him ready to go to hospital. I’ve had a message from Dr McLeod. Sean can be admitted any time after five. I can’t do this on my own and Gerry’s not answering my calls.”
“He’s maybe recovering from last night, he certainly tied one on,” laughed Paddy. “I never had him down as a drinker, but by God he certainly kept pace with the best of them.”
Lizzie heard Sean’s television still blaring away as she opened the front door. Surely he was out of bed by now? She knocked on his bedroom door, calling his name, but there was still no response.
“Paddy, he’s not answering and the door is still locked.”
“Sean!” shouted Paddy, hammering on the bedroom door. “This is fucking ridiculous. He’s like a fucking teenager. Sean, open this bloody door at once or I’ll break it down.”
Paddy put his shoulder to the door and there was the sound of splintering wood. Mother and son gained entry to the bedroom.
“Oh my God. Oh my God, Paddy. He’s been lying here all day and me thinking he was just sulking. God above, maybe we could have saved him.”
“There’s nothing you could have done, Ma. He’s been gone a while.” Paddy had spotted the syringe and surmised that Sean had probably died the previous evening: his brother was dressed to go out.
“I’ll phone the doctor, we have to report this.” Paddy knew that Dr McPhail would do the necessary paperwork for them. No need for post mortems or the like. It was plainly obvious what had taken Sean Coyle. The evidence was there for all to see.
Paddy was bemused; he was sure that the gear he’d given Gerry hadn’t been pure enough to kill Sean. In fact, he knew it wasn’t, but this was no time for quibbling. He had to get the death certificate signed and the funeral arranged as soon as possible.
“Bridget, get over here as quick as you can. We have a problem. Our Sean’s overdosed and my mother’s in a right state.”
“Never mind Erin for the minute, we’ll sort her out after. She’ll be fine, she’s probably clubbing and partying with that idiot. I just hope they’re taking good care of my grandson.”
“Look, this is no time to be arguing, just get yourself here. I need to get hold of Michael and Marie before word gets out. You know what this place is like, the jungle drums are beating already.”
Dr McPhail arrived before Bridget and was consulting with Paddy as she entered the house. Lizzie was distraught, holding her son close, rocking gently to and fro and keening quietly to him. It was the saddest sound Bridget had ever heard. All of Sean’s misdemeanours were now forgotten. He was once again Lizzie’s boy, the cheeky imp who, with his twin, had scoured the streets of Glasgow for scrap to help keep the family afloat. Everyone had loved him and his twin brother back in the day. He had just lost his way for a while.
Behind Closed Doors
Shivering in the ninety degree heat, Erin Coyle stood naked in a line of women being checked into the infamous Alhaurin de la Torre in Malaga. She was in some sort of reception area and each woman in the line was being intimately searched. They were being subjected to this humiliation in full view of several prisoners, officers and amidst a barrage of catcalls and jeers from the other prisoners.
Erin was totally freaked out. There was no way this was going to happen to her. As two officers approached her, the Erin Coyle who had entered the facility disappeared. She knew this was make or break time. If she showed any sign of weakness she was dead meat. She knew no Spanish and few of her new chums seemed to have much English, so she had no idea what was being said. Her voice was also failing her, as it did from time to time when she became stressed – and life didn’t come much more stressful than this. As the officers approached, Erin stood straight and upright, clenching her legs tightly shut.
The standoff lasted barely minutes. The officers were well used to uncooperative prisoners and they came across this defiance on a daily basis. However, they had not reckoned on Erin Coyle’s Celtic nature: a mixture of temper, embarrassment and pain. Erin took a mighty swipe at the officer closest to her and, just like her father’s signature punch, she floored the woman.
She was bundled, still naked, into an isolation cell with no amenities except a blanket and a bucket. This was barbaric, but thanks to her behaviour she’d already made a name for herself.
If she was going to survive, she had to get used to living like this. For three days she endured her punishment. With nothing except the thin ragged blanket to cover her, she was stifling hot during the day and freezing at night, with only vermin to keep her company. Possibly due to dehydration or sheer terror she had begun to hallucinate. Twice, she was convinced her Uncle Sean had visited her and he seemed anxious to tell her something. Erin, of course, had no idea that Sean had passed away on the first night he appeared to her.
With no-one to talk to and only the briefest contact with the officers who brought food and water, Erin had plenty of time to think. Her infatuation with Bobby was over. She could only assume that her present dilemma had been engineered in revenge for his father’s death.
But to deprive his child of its mother was unforgivable. When she got out of here, and she would, she’d make sure that neither he nor that scheming bitch of a mother of his, would ever set eyes on the child again. She also decided that when she returned home she was moving out. It was time she stood on her own two feet. If she was going to endure this lot, she certainly could manage her own life back home. However dreadful this situation was, not for one moment did she doubt that Paddy would come for her.
In the meantime she had to stand up for herself. She gav
e thanks for the years of karate training that Paddy had made her attend since she was a nipper. In his eyes being Paddy Coyle’s daughter was a dangerous occupation. How right he was, but she was confident she could hold her own against most would-be attackers, as the prison officer she’d smacked would attest to.
On the afternoon of the third day she was brought before the governor. Naked, with only the threadbare blanket protecting her modesty, she was still defiant. The governor was not impressed. She had seen thousands of Erin Coyles over the years and in her opinion this one was nothing new.
“You are a very foolish young woman, Coyle. If you think you can break the system, one which has been in existence for over a hundred years, you will endure a very unpleasant stay with us. You are a remand prisoner and would normally be housed in the low security wing. However, because of your behaviour, and to ensure the safety of my officers, you will be held in the main wing of this facility. But to ensure your safety, you will share a cell with a long term prisoner who speaks English. She is an American who, like you, was caught smuggling drugs.”
“I have not been convicted of smuggling.”
“No, but you will be,” replied the governor.
“I was set up. I’m innocent.”
“Of course you are. All the women housed in this correction facility are innocent. But until we can prove one way or another, please listen to what your cellmate, Cindy, says and you will not leave here in a wooden box. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” her bravado was beginning to wane. “I need to find out about my baby and contact my family. They don’t know where I am.”
“You will be allowed one phone call, but not an international call, so you had better think of some Spanish resident who can assist you. Meanwhile,” the governor nodded to the officer present, “take Coyle to her cell. And remember what I said, this prison is a very dangerous place.”
The Betrayal Page 18