by KERRY BARNES
‘Oh, dearest, sweet Kara, I know everything about you, absolutely everything, even what you have for breakfast. How fucking perfect your life was …’ There was a cackle that made Kara grip the phone tightly and hold her breath for so long, that she thought she was about to faint. An unearthly feeling, a cold shiver, swept up her spine and sent a tingling feeling from her neck to her head.
‘But it’s not so perfect now, dearest Kara, is it? And what about Justin? Where’s he, when you need him?… Oh, yes’ – she sniggered hideously – ‘in my bed, waiting for me to join him. You see, Kara, I can satisfy that man in more ways than one, but you, sweet Kara, couldn’t, could you, or he wouldn’t be fathering my baby.’
Like a thunderbolt, Kara’s whole body jolted. ‘What? Who is this? What do you want? Why do you have my mother’s phone?’
There was silence on the other end of the phone, with just heavy breathing. Then she heard a faint chuckle before the phone went dead.
Lucky for Kara, Deni was in the queue for the phone when she saw Kara slump to the floor in a pitiful pool of sobs. Pushing the others out of the way, she helped Kara to her feet. ‘There, there, my babe, what’s happened?’
Kara couldn’t speak, the sobs taking her breath away. Her world had just crashed down around her, and for the first time in her life, she wanted to die, to get out of her miserable existence. Keeping up the pretence that she could cope after being dumped by Justin, incarcerated for arson, and then, nearly losing her baby, had all taken its toll. Now the call as well, it was too much to handle.
Holding the trembling body, Deni tried to calm the poor, wretched woman. ‘Let’s get you back to your cell and make you a nice cup of sweet tea and you can tell me all about it.’ Looking back at the queue of women eager to get to the phone, she smarted. They were all ignorant of the fact that Kara was on her knees. It meant nothing to them; all they wanted was to make their calls. Kara had no one, except, as she saw it, herself, Vic, and Julie.
All the way back to the cell, Kara was inconsolable and unable even to string a sentence together.
Holding her up under her arm, Deni could feel just how slight Kara’s body was. Her own daughter, should she have lived, would have been the same age as Kara; she had been a petite girl and weighed next to nothing the day she died. Deni remembered holding her limp body and feeling so helpless.
‘Aunty Deni will look after ya. Nothing will ever be that bad. God only gives us shit we can handle.’
She helped Kara into her own cell, pulled off the blanket that was neatly folded at the end of the bed, and wrapped it around Kara’s shoulders. ‘Now, my babe, you’ve been through a hell of an ordeal, nearly losing the baby. Thank Gawd, she’s all right, so, what’s upset you so much? Who was on the phone?’ asked Deni, with her back to Kara, making a cup of tea.
Sniffing back the sob, she replied, ‘I tried to call my mum. She’s sick, you see, but this strange woman, I think she’s my mother’s carer, answered and said she knew I was in prison. Oh my God, she was cruel and wicked … It was like … she was taunting me. I don’t know, perhaps it’s just the stress. Or, maybe, I’m hearing things.’ How could she say that she may have just had a conversation with the person who had taken her Justin away? Deni would think she was going barmy. Nothing made sense; she needed to work it out, before opening her mouth and sounding ridiculous.
Deni felt a lump in her throat and wondered if the saying about God giving a person only what they could handle was true. She gritted her teeth; life was so hard sometimes. Possibly, the recent events were pushing Kara over the edge. Sadly, she knew full well, once Kara’s mum departed this world, Kara would have no family left, and an unexpected tear trickled down her face. She quickly wiped it away and shuffled along the bed, handing Kara a mug with a slogan that said, “KEEP CALM, IT’S ONLY PRISON”. Kara held it up for a second, and then she smiled.
Deni grimaced. ‘Oops, sorry, I didn’t read it. Well, it’s either that one or mine.’ She held it up and smiled. The logo on her mug said, “KEEP CALM, LOVE A CONVICT”. She put her arm around Kara’s shoulders and pulled her close. ‘You let it all out, my babe, ’cos the truth is, there ain’t nuffin I can say that will make ya feel any better, well, except, I’m ’ere for ya, me and Vic, if ya just wanna shoulder.’ She could smell the clean scent of Kara’s hair and felt the wet cheek on her neck, and for a moment, she was holding her own daughter. Kara was a sweet untainted child, an innocent kid with her whole life in front of her.
The one good thing she had done in her sordid existence was giving birth to her little Phoebe. At no time did it matter that she never knew the father, but it was a fact that her little girl was pure and not subjected to a life like her own. Deni had run the brothel from a big seven-bedroom house. The girls of all ages and types paid rent; it wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough for her to keep the roof over their heads.
She had the two rooms at the back of the house for her and Phoebe. All the prostitutes knew the score, so there was no foul language or talk of punters to be had when the little girl was around. Lucky for them, they knew Deni’s wrath and wouldn’t dare go against her rules, not that there were many. No one had ever looked out for them as much as Deni, and so she was held in high esteem. She nursed their wounds, she lent them money, and she made sure they had food in their bellies.
Any punter who pushed their luck would be turfed out on their ear, with a swift kick and a severe word of warning. If Deni kicked off, the whole house would hear, and the girls would appear from their rooms like a pack of wolves; no cocky little piece of shit would dare take on a load of women wielding deadly hot curling tongs or pointed hairdressing scissors.
Yet little Phoebe was kept away in the back room, reading her library books. Deni loved the girls, but her Phoebe was the apple of her eye, and the reason she got up in the morning. She didn’t care what the neighbours or the other mums at the school said behind her back; she held her head high and walked her daughter to school, dressed in the smartest uniform, with her polished black Clarks shoes and her long fair hair tied back in a big red ribbon to match her red coat.
As a child, she was a cute little thing, with her large brown eyes that would melt your heart. By the time Phoebe left school, she had grown into a beautiful teenager, polite and kind – looking just like Kelly Clarkson when she won American Idol – but all the niceness in the world couldn’t save her from the drunk driver on his phone who was rowing with his girlfriend. He didn’t see her, and as he went to throw his phone out of the window, he mounted the kerb and crushed Phoebe against a brick wall. She died instantly.
‘Thank you, Deni, for being there for me. I feel a bit of a fool, really, on my knees, crying like a baby.’
Deni was still thinking about her own daughter; she wished she’d been there that day and taken the hit herself instead of her little Phoebe. ‘You had a shock, is all, Kara, and you, lovey, have been through enough lately.’ She looked at Kara’s bruised face and felt a tightening in the pit of her stomach; life was so cruel at times, and this was one of those times.
‘Why don’t you write her a letter?’
‘To whom?’ questioned Kara, looking dazed.
Deni frowned. ‘Your mother.’
‘Oh yeah, of course, sorry, yes, maybe I should.’ Kara chewed her fingernail. ‘Let’s hope she gets it before she hears about what happened.’
‘Where’s your mum?’ asked Deni, thinking that Kara was being naive, as the arson attack was all over the papers. Surely her mother would have known?
‘Australia. She went over a few years ago. She always wanted to live there, and when I moved in with Justin, she sold her house and moved shortly after. My mum suffers with arthritis, you see, and thought living in a warmer climate would help her. I guess, as she has a carer now, she must have got worse. She doesn’t even answer the phone anymore. Christ, I had no idea when she said she was poorly that she was so sick, and with all that’s been going on, I have been so wrapped up in my own p
roblems. It hadn’t crossed my mind that she was … well, maybe dying.’
She stared off into space. ‘I should never have struck that match. I can’t believe that was even me, back then. I’ve never even swatted a fly, and in that minute of madness, I burned down his house … and that poor neighbour … I just hope she doesn’t suffer any long-term damage.’
‘I have phonecards, babe. You take mine. There ain’t anyone out there that I need to call regularly.’
Kara gave her a thankful smile. ‘That’s so kind, Deni. Thank you for everything. I mean it.’
Deni got up to make them both another cup of tea and hide her glossy eyes, when Barbara appeared in the doorway, looking stony-faced and spiteful. ‘Get back to your own wing, Denton.’ She looked at Kara’s tear-stained, battered face and smirked. ‘A Dear Jane letter, was it?’
‘Go fuck yaself, Babs!’ spat Deni.
‘Carry on, Denton, and you will be on report or down the block.’
‘What’s up with you? Batteries run out on ya Rampant Rabbit, did they?’
‘I’m warning you, Denton!’ Barbara’s face was screwed up like a dried-up prune.
‘Yeah! And I’m warning you, ya fucking ugly bitch. You put me down the block, and you’ll have another riot on ya hands … Remember the last time?’
Barbara did remember, only too well. Denton was marched down the block for mouthing off, and within five minutes, the women went nuts, pressing all the buzzers in their cells, screaming and shouting, causing the officers on duty that night no end of grief. They had to check every cell, in case they had any code blues. They couldn’t afford to have any more suicides, and if they missed just one, then their necks would be on the line, so every call had to be addressed. The inmates all played merry hell, demanding to see the doctor, pretending they were sick. And all because she had locked their leader, the old tom, in solitary confinement.
‘You didn’t get permission to come over to this wing.’
‘Shove your permission up ya jacksie and do one. Can’t ya see the girl’s been through enough, or do you get off on seeing young women on the fucking floor, eh? You know what, Barbara, I thought you would have softened in ya old age, but you just get worse … The poor girl’s mum’s sick. Have some bleedin’ compassion, will ya!’
Barbara looked Kara up and down, huffed, and then stormed off.
‘Sorry about that, Kara. I hate that woman with a passion. One day, she will have a knife in the ribs, because the trouble is, wearing that uniform, she thinks she’s invincible, but it’s only because she ain’t been hurt yet. But, mark my words, someone will do it, if I don’t do it first!’
‘She’s probably just doing her job. It must be miserable for her too, I guess.’
Deni shook her head and sighed. ‘The thing about you, my babe, is you really don’t see bad in anyone. I wish I was like you, but people are bad, especially her.’
Kara knew only too well that there was a bad side to people; her childhood wasn’t exactly a Disney script. In fact, her housemistress had given her a useful maxim before she left to face the outside world. Kara could remember what she said as if it were yesterday. ‘Kara, it’s a wicked old world: if you expect the worst in people, you will never be disappointed.’ The trouble was, she didn’t believe those words at all. She only wanted to see the good in people.
Just as Deni was about to pour more boiling water into the cup, she heard a rumbling of voices downstairs in the recreation area. At first, she thought it was all the women coming back from their jobs, but then the noise was louder and in among the sound was a scream. Deni and Kara both hurried out of the cell and looked over the landing to the floor below.
Vic was lying there with four other women surrounding her. Kara could see she was laid out clutching the inside of her leg, and then she saw the blood. ‘Oh my God, she’s bleeding!’ she yelled, as she rushed past Deni and jumped down the stairs three at a time.
The four bystanders were standing there looking helpless, as Vic rolled around trying to hold the top of her thigh. Kara pushed two of them aside and fell to her knees, to see what was going on. Vic’s tracksuit bottoms had turned from olive green to almost black from the blood flow. Kara grabbed the waist of the trousers and pulled them down, as Vic tried to catch her breath. ‘Fuck! Fuck! Posh, she’s stabbed me!’ Her face was white, and for the first time, Kara witnessed terror in Vic’s eyes.
Kara looked down at the neat but very deep wound and the blood pumping out in spurts. The force at which the claret shot out told her that the femoral artery was sliced, and if they didn’t stop the bleeding, she would be dead in minutes. She put her hands over the wound and pressed as hard as she could, screaming at everyone to get the screws. Deni had already pressed the emergency buzzer and was now on her knees supporting Vic’s head.
‘Kara’s here, babe, you’re gonna be all right. Will someone get the fucking screws!’ she screeched at the four inmates who were standing there looking gormless.
Barbara heard the commotion and came tearing along the bottom landing, pushing the women aside. She then tried to push Kara. ‘Move away, let me see!’
But Kara knew that if she took the pressure off the wound, she would reduce Vic’s chances of surviving. ‘No! Quick, give me your belt,’ she yelled.
Once more, Barbara tried to shove Kara aside. ‘Get away, Bannon!’
That was enough for Kara. She turned and glared with total venom in her eyes. ‘Give me your fucking belt. I need to slow the bleeding or she will die. You need to call for help. Do you understand me?’
Barbara didn’t even have a chance to answer back. Deni grabbed her around the waist and tried to unbuckle the belt herself.
‘Get off me, I’ll do it myself.’ She looked at the surrounding crowd and knew she had no choice. She slid the leather belt from her waist and called on the radio for help. Kara snatched her makeshift tourniquet and handed it to Deni. ‘Tie it around her leg just above the wound and tie it as tight as you can.’
Deni wasted no time, and with sweaty, shaking hands, she followed the order. Within two minutes, the medical team arrived and took over. Deni turned to Kara. ‘Will she make it?’
White-faced and sickly, Kara slowly shrugged her shoulders. ‘If she doesn’t get to the hospital in time, then no, she could bleed out.’
Seconds later, Julie came hurtling along the corridor, having heard the news. ‘Where’s me sister?’ she screamed.
Deni grabbed her arms. ‘She’s gone to the hospital.’ Julie was looking past Deni, over her shoulder. ‘Is she all right? What the fuck’s happened?’
There was silence, as they waited for Julie to calm down. Deni stared into her eyes. ‘Listen, Julie, Vic’s gone to the hospital with a knife wound.’ Julie pulled away and looked at the blood on the floor and on Kara’s hands, her hair, and her face.
‘Jesus fucking wept. Please, don’t tell me that’s her blood?’
Slowly, Kara nodded but jumped when the siren went off. It was lock-up, and the landing was now awash with officers, all escorting the prisoners back to their cells. Deni, Julie, and Kara headed upstairs, only to be stopped by Barbara, who had returned from the hospital wing. ‘Oi, Denton, back to your cell!’
Kara was still angry with Barbara for not freely handing over her belt. She stopped dead on the stairs, covered in Vic’s blood, and turned to face her. ‘You have a nerve. I can’t believe you are even here dishing out orders. You really don’t have any regard for anyone’s life, do you?’ She took a step down, closer to the prison officer. ‘I have a good mind to report you,’ she said, poking a finger in Barbara’s face, ‘to the number one governor; so think very carefully about what you say in front of me, lady, because I’m far more intelligent than you, and I’ll have every damn newspaper knowing the truth about you … yes, you, Barbara. I’ll endeavour to ensure you never work in a prison again. You will be lucky if you’re not scrubbing floors in Tesco, by the time I’m done with you!’
With eyes like
saucers and breathing fast, Barbara retorted, ‘Watch ya mouth, Bannon, or I’ll have you down the block!’
Kara gave an almost hysterical laugh. ‘Now, how good will that look? A young inmate attacked in the showers, face brutally smashed, nearly losing her baby, trying to save a woman’s life, and then being marched down the block, all because some vindictive officer would rather see an inmate bleed to death than take her belt off to save her life!’ Puffing her chest out and pushing her shoulders back, she stood defiantly.
Other inmates were now outside their cells, all glued to the confrontation between Kara and Barbara. Deni looked at Julie; both were thunderstruck. Then came the silence, as Kara stared, and Barbara, sizing up the situation, was clearly unsure what to do. But all eyes were on them: the big standoff.
Barbara looked at the sea of gaping eyes, all awaiting her next move. This was going to go one of two ways, and she had to think quickly. Dragging Bannon down the block would cause a riot, and she was well aware of Kara’s following. She was under Deni’s and Vic’s protection and the women respected her for her medical knowledge.
What Barbara didn’t know was that Kara had reached her tipping point; with no one on the outside, and the pain of deep loss, Kara was ready to take on the world and stand up for what was right, even if it meant she would suffer in the long run. Vic could be dead, and Barbara was acting like a malevolent bitch.
‘Go on, Barbara Pratt, take me down the fucking block. I would love you to because you will have to write a report as to why, and I’ll have my say, and not just to the governor, but to every reporter who will listen! I’m not a convicted prisoner, remember. I’m on remand, and in a few weeks, I’m in court. I’ll make sure my lawyer has the press there ready and waiting, and your name will be the first to roll off my fucking tongue!’
The blood began to rise, and Barbara’s face was glowing red to match her hair. Humiliated and stupefied, Barbara funnelled herself away, ordering the other inmates to get back to their cells. A number of officers started rounding up the prisoners on the corridor above and below and hadn’t witnessed the impasse.
