Human Conditioning

by Hirst, Louise

  Gina wheezed as she inhaled a breath to continue. “Roy didn’t deserve my loyalty…” She nodded lightly, as if the thought had just occurred to her, then added, “I realise now that he ruined my life. All that I’ve done, it was all because of him.”

  Lily stared at her intently, a sudden sense of trepidation creeping slowly up her spine. There had always been something about Roy Watson that Lily hadn’t liked. His coldness was something that had always remained in her memory. “What did he do to you?” she whispered.

  “He used to…” Gina closed her eyes and slapped her lips together. Her eyebrows furrowed as if it took all the strength she had left to string her important message together. “He was a child molester, Lily. He used to rape me…” Lily gasped but Gina went on, “I know now that he was wrong to do that. Mum knew how he used to…” she gulped, “… crawl into my bed at night,” she shuddered at the memory. “That’s why she left us. I was just a kid… and she left me with that sick fuck…”

  As Lily registered Gina’s confession, the surge of grief that had hit her before was suddenly spiralling out of control. Tears poured from her eyes. She couldn’t breathe, all the air taken from her. She felt winded, as if an enormous fist of sensibility had punctured a hole in her lungs.

  How she longed to turn back the clock. If only she had spoken to Gina about her home life more than she had when they had been children. If only she had acted on her gut instinct and pressed Gina for information about her father. Maybe she could have prevented…

  All of a sudden, Gina groaned loudly, and Lily registered that something was wrong. “Gina?”

  “It hurts!” she cried.

  “What hurts, G?”

  A coughing fit began, and Gina was thrown forward by the sheer violence of her choking and spluttering. Lily repositioned herself upon her knees and rubbed her friend’s back. She could see her spine poking out beneath her flesh and the feel of Gina’s tiny bones beneath her fingers brought more tears to her eyes.

  She was really choking now, and Lily’s panic was about to peak when there were finally voices at the front door. “In here! In here!” she screamed as Gina convulsed beneath her hands. “Please, hurry!”

  When two paramedics rushed into the room, Lily was lost in hysteria. It was as if somehow, now that the ambulance crew was there, she could let herself go. She screamed, no longer able to hold her nerve. She felt herself being lifted from the floor onto the couch, and her screams soon died away into sobering sobs as a hand caressed her shoulders. “What’s her name?” the female paramedic asked.

  “Gina Watson!”

  Lily watched the scene before her. The paramedics were now talking to Gina and passing urgent orders to one another. Their cases of medical equipment were open and strewn across the floor as they began to work on her friend. She heard the word ‘user’ and a little afterwards ‘chronic pneumonia’, but it was the words that came a few minutes later, as she dazedly watched the whirlwind of activity before her, that stunned her into a numbing silence: ‘She’s gone. Let’s take her in.’

  Lily was suddenly outside of herself, overwhelmed by horror. Her blue eyes darted from one paramedic to another, then to her friend. But Gina was no longer visible beneath the pale blue quilt that had been placed over her face and body. Lily didn’t register that the female paramedic had sat beside her again until she spoke. “What is your name, love?”

  “Lily,” she whispered distractedly as her focus remained on the blue blanket in the shape of her friend’s profile.

  “Are you a friend?”

  She nodded.

  “Is there any family of Gina’s that we can contact?”

  Lily tore her eyes away and looked up at the woman in uniform. She shook her head slowly. “No, she has no one,” she whispered, and the realisation of this fact hit her like a freight train. Gina had had no one. No one had cared for her and no one, except her and Aiden, would even notice that she was gone.

  “The problem was, I never loved Gina. I understand now that she loved me very much. She was a thing of beauty, in her own strange way. I miss her.”

  Aiden Foster

  (1969–2002)

  HMP Maidstone

  7th December 2001

  Chapter fifty

  “Aiden, can I have a word?” Frankie called from the factory office. It was late. All packages had been offloaded and were on their way to London. Aiden was to follow the men back, leaving just Frankie at the factory to lock up.

  Aiden stepped inside the office, swinging his car keys around his index finger. He took a seat at the pinewood desk and Frankie sat in a larger chair opposite him. “What’s up?” he asked, relaxing comfortably in his chair and placing a foot over his knee.

  Frankie surveyed him for a long moment. Aiden was wearing smart jeans, Caterpillar boots and a thick, woollen Stone Island jumper. His black hair was scruffy but stylish, his square jaw shaven, and his ocean-blue eyes were twinkling with intrigue. Aiden knew he looked good enough to eat, even when casual, and he got the impression, as always, that Frankie was eyeing him up.

  He didn’t really care anymore. Since he’d found out the truth about Frankie’s sexual preferences he hadn’t said a word. He couldn’t allow it to affect their working relationship. He was getting it too good with Frankie and, if truth be told, he used the fact that Frankie was attracted to him for his own gain. Frankie was like putty in his hands, and he didn’t give a flying fuck how much it rubbed the other workers up the wrong way.

  “We’ve been doing alright, you and me, haven’t we?” Frankie asked, finishing his question on a faint smile.

  “Yeah, everything’s good…”

  “And you’re not getting any grief… from the others?”

  Aiden smirked. “There’s always grief, Frankie. I just tend not to give a fuck.”

  Frankie’s smile widened into a grin. “There’s a good lad.” He paused. He was drinking Aiden in again and not being very inconspicuous about it either. Dragging himself out of his reverie, he went on, “We may have to take a trip to Europe in the next couple of weeks.”

  Aiden frowned. This was news to him. “Business or pleasure?”

  “Business,” Frankie replied, though by the look in his beady eyes, Aiden wondered whether he wanted a bit of the latter too. “We can do pleasure another time. Italy maybe, like I said before…”

  “What’s the trip for?”

  “I want you to meet a friend of mine. He manages shipments from Germany but he also sources benzocaine from Spain.”

  Aiden nodded. “Alright, give me the dates and I’ll let Lily know.”

  Frankie sat forward in his chair and clasped his hands together. “We make a good team, you and I, Aiden.” He smiled fondly and Aiden quivered a smile back at him.

  “I’d best be off…”

  “Just a second, Aiden. I have something to show you. Come round here.”

  Aiden sighed. Frankie’s eyes were twinkling more salaciously than usual and now he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. If that gay ponce laid one finger on him, he would find himself flat out on the floor with a very sore fucking chin!

  He stood and stepped around the desk. As he halted a reasonable distance away, Frankie pulled open the top draw of the desk and, moving some papers to one side, revealed a small black revolver. Aiden glanced down at it then back up at Frankie. He wasn’t perturbed. He’d handled a gun before and Frankie must already have known that, so this wasn’t a shock tactic.

  “It’s for you,” he finally announced. “A present… from me. For being such a good employee…”

  Aiden gulped. “Do you give all your employees presents?”

  Frankie smiled wryly, “No, you’re the first.”

  “Why?”

  “Why, what?”

  “Why are you giving this to me?”

  Frankie stood and, taking the gun out of the drawer, he handed it to him, his dark crow-like eyes beseeching him to accept it, and something else burned behind them: a burnin
g desire. Aiden hesitated, then took it from him. “Cheers,” he muttered.

  He wanted out of there now. He pulled up his jumper and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. Frankie stepped forward and, catching Aiden off guard, his lips found his and his tongue penetrated his mouth.

  Immediately, Aiden pushed him away, stumbling backwards and, as instinct obliterated all thought, he pulled the gun out with one hand and pointed it between Frankie’s eyes. His other hand went to his lips and, with the back of it, he wiped away all trace of Frankie’s assault.

  “You sick bastard!” he bellowed. “You try another stunt like that and I’ll fucking blow your brains out!”

  Frankie looked stunned. The gun wasn’t loaded. Frankie knew that; Aiden suspected it. But Aiden’s fury left Frankie feeling utterly astounded, totally mortified and hurt by the lad’s rebuff.

  When they both heard the crash and the bellow of voices coming from inside the factory, the shock of the episode was immediately replaced with the fear that they were being raided. Both men stared at each other in utter amazement. There was nowhere to flee except onto the factory floor. Frankie grabbed the gun from Aiden’s hand, wiped it on his shirt and threw it back into the drawer just before five armed police officers stormed into the small room and ordered that they raise their hands.

  Kamal pulled out his Motorola DynaTAC 8800X mobile phone from the glove compartment of his black Mercedes 560SEL and dialled. He only had to wait one ring before his call was answered. “It’s done,” he announced. “No… I’m away from the roadside, but I have a good view. I just hope I don’t get stuck in the damn mud down here…. Yes, he was definitely in the back of the police car… look… Grant, you had to do something… it’s not your fault… yes, alright… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Kamal hung up and sighed. He sat and watched the police car, with Aiden inside, followed closely by the police van, slowly make their way down the dark country road, and his eyes followed them until the blue flashing lights disappeared out of view. Then he turned the key in the ignition, slowly and attentively drove his favourite Mercedes over the tractor cavities in the hard ground, and headed home.

  “Many have asked whether I regret the paths I have chosen, and I can honestly say that my only regret was losing the love and respect of my wife and my sweetheart, Lily. I cherish the moments we spent together and dream of a time when I may see her beautiful face again.”

  Aiden Foster

  (1969–2002)

  HMP Maidstone

  7th December 2001

  Chapter fifty-one

  7th January 2002

  Lily stared down at Gina’s grave, clutching twelve pink roses in one manicured hand and her daughter’s small hand in the other. At ten years old, Amy Foster was the spit of her father: all prettiness with long, dark hair and piercing blue eyes that sometimes plunged Lily into reminiscence of her soon-to-be ex-husband.

  “This is a very good friend of mine,” she announced as she crouched down, pulled a tissue from her trouser pocket and began wiping the grave clean. “I thought you two should finally meet.”

  Amy stepped closer and directed her blue eyes to the white marble. “Is she in heaven, Mummy?”

  “She is, darling.”

  They were both silent for a long moment before Lily turned her daughter to face her and said, “Some people in this world have no one to look after them. They do not have the privileges that you and I have. This made my friend very, very sad, but she is at peace now.”

  “What kind of priv-il-eges do you mean?”

  Lily smiled fondly at her beautiful, innocent daughter. “Some people do not have mummies and daddies who look after them. They do not have pretty bedrooms and holidays. This can make them very frustrated and lonely.”

  Amy thought on her mother’s words for a moment then said, “I do not have a daddy who looks after me…”

  Lily closed her eyes then opened them. “No, darling. See, your father was very similar to my friend here…”

  “He didn’t have pri-vil-eges?”

  “No, he didn’t, and like my friend, this made him very sad and very angry, and that sadness and anger made him do a lot of things I’m sure he now regrets.”

  “So he was put into prison for doing them things,” Amy said.

  It was not a question. Amy was well informed of her father’s imprisonment. She didn’t know the full extent of what he had done, but Lily wouldn’t be able to keep the truth from her for long. One day she would hear or read all about how her father had come to be a Category ‘A’ criminal. Lily just had to make sure she was there for her daughter when she did find out.

  Amy had not seen her father since she was seven months old. Of course, she had no memory of him, just the pictures her mother had shown her over the years. And Lily had no intention of taking her to visit Aiden, however much he pleaded. She had once sworn to him that he would never see his child whilst she was legally in her custody and she had meant it. Only when Amy came in adulthood would Lily have to accept whatever she chose to do in respect of her father. But that was a long way off yet, and she hoped that when her baby girl learned the truth, she would be sensible enough to get on with the rest of her life without him.

  “And we can’t see Daddy because he needs to get better, because he’s still sad,” Amy pressed, repeating her mother’s words of the past.

  “That’s right.”

  Lily smiled and turned back to the marble headstone she had paid for. She had been the one to organise Gina’s funeral. Gina’s mother hadn’t shown her face. Lily didn’t even know whether the woman ever found out that her first child wasn’t with them anymore. Only Lily and one other person had been present at the service. The stranger had sat at the back of the small church, only approaching her when she had been leaving. The woman had introduced herself as Shelly Matthews and had told her she had met Gina in 1987 but had not seen or spoken to her since 1990. The stranger had apologised for the sad ending to Gina’s life, had said some kind words about her, then had left without any real explanation as to how they had met. She hadn’t attended the burial. Lily wondered again who she could have been as she stared at the words she had chosen to be engraved on Gina’s headstone:

  GINA WATSON

  BORN 1ST OCTOBER 1969

  DIED 15TH OCTOBER 1991

  PEACE AT LAST

  “Happy New Year, G”, Lily muttered as she placed the roses at the foot of the headstone. She was deep in thought when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned. “Yes?”

  “Mrs Foster?”

  She stood up and acknowledged the man before her. She had been accosted by him before. She said, straightening her back, “Soon to be Ms Summers…”

  As far as Lily was concerned, her relationship with Aiden was long dead. She had filed for divorce every year since he had been found guilty of offences even worse than she could have ever imagined.

  Aiden and Frankie Adams’s arrests over the drug factory had generated several legitimate investigations into their shady past. In respect of Frankie, Scotland Yard had not found any offences other than drug distribution around the UK, which he had been associated with for ten years in total, and he had been sent down for fifteen years in the end. Aiden’s case, however, had lasted two long years.

  During that time, DI Summers, with the help of those from Scotland Yard who had not been found to be suckling at Aiden’s power teat, had dug up many offences against him, from his involvement in the recording of illegal sexual materials, which had landed Ashley Connor a three-year stretch at Her Majesty’s Prison Stanford Hill, Kent – to car theft and sales of stolen motor vehicles, which had landed Alex Lowe an 18-month sentence at Her Majesty’s Prison Spring Hill, Aylesbury. There had also been an investigation into Aiden’s association with the well-known dealer of drugs Reggie Driscoll and his involvement in enforcement, resulting in the offences of ABH and GBH.

  The Kingsland flats were put under surveillance again, although they had been put up for
sale within weeks of Aiden’s arrest. Regardless, some of the girls, having heard that Aiden was going down for some time, had finally spoken out and confirmed that he was, in fact, head of the operation and the victims of the Kingsland flats had been offered support from local care agencies. However, many who had relied on Aiden’s employment to survive had refused help and had either found themselves another boss or ended up on street corners, living a life far worse than they had ever experienced under Aiden.

  If Lily and the rest of the Foster clan had thought that that was quite enough to digest, it had also come to light at the tail end of Scotland Yard’s investigations that in 1989 Aiden had been associated with, and was eventually found guilty for the murder of, Mr Kieran Baker, who had been known to the police on suspicion of sex trafficking, though they’d never had enough on him to ever come close to an arrest. Aiden was also suspected of the murder of Jason Ryan in 1987, though there was never enough evidence to convict him.

  His family, Scotland Yard, the Press, and consequently the nation, had been absolutely astonished at the number of convictions against Aiden Foster, and he was soon nicknamed ‘Mr Industrious’ by the Press. There were even articles from supporters who found Aiden extremely fascinating. ‘One man’s fight for survival’ had been a favourite topic for many months, and it had raised a lot of discussion around the state of the UK’s council estates and the lack of opportunity for ‘lower class’ youths, which had led to discussions at Parliament.

  The suited man before Lily was overweight with slicked blond hair and light brown eyes. His suit was too small for him and he was perspiring despite the fact that it was a cool winter’s day. He looked uncomfortable and Lily had the urge to feel sorry for him. “I have a message for you, Mrs Foster,” he announced.

  “Call me Lily… please.”

  The man nodded and passed her an envelope, then stepped back awkwardly. Lily opened it and pulled out the letter within. She was silent for a long moment whilst she read its contents. “Mummy, who is he?” Amy pointed at the man. He gave her a slight smile.