by Ali Carter
Charlotte stood outside Rampton cuffed between two women prison officers as she waited to be put into a van. She’d been given leave to attend her mother’s funeral and it felt good to be on the outside at last, two years was a long time – too long. It had been really difficult to knuckle down and accept everything at first, but she’d managed to get along with most of the other patients most of the time and had one friend in particular who would do absolutely anything for her. Eventually she would be able to show her appreciation in the best way criminals liked to receive loyalty payment – cold hard cash.
Her father had died the previous year due to a weak heart which had followed multiple illnesses, all as a result of shock at his only daughter’s hideous crimes. Sadly she hadn’t been given permission to attend his funeral owing to an unfortunate kitchen incident…
Her mother had been constantly unwell for the past two years, had felt eternal family shame and found the loss of her husband just too much to bear, so now Charlotte found herself in the fresh air, difficult thoughts going round and round her head as they often did.
Miles had divorced her soon after the trial which she’d found unforgiveable, if understandable. He’d clearly decided no amount of her parents’ colossal inheritance was worth staying with her for, but as far as Charlotte was concerned it was the ultimate betrayal – after all he was the sole reason she was in here.
She glanced down anxiously at her cuffed hands and checked her watch – let’s hope all the arrangements are well synchronized mummy dearest, she thought, I’ve only got one shot at this. The van came round the corner and pulled up in front of them. She looked briefly around her before getting in. There’s nothing left for me here any longer and I’ve always had a hankering for New York. A twisted smile crept over her face, a previously attractive face that had considerably hardened over the past couple of years… I wonder if those two scheming bitches are happily settled out there? To be honest, it really doesn’t matter one way or the other, after all – Dead Girls Don’t Cry…
