by June Tate
‘Of course I will. I promise!’
Dawn was breaking and the staff in the hospital were arriving for the change of shift. With people walking to and fro it gave the place a feeling of normality, which helped to ease the trauma that Phoebe was suffering. Tim was sound asleep, but Phoebe, although weary, was awake still.
At last a surgeon appeared, walked over to her and sat down. She quickly woke Tim.
‘I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long, Mrs Masters. The operation went well. Your husband is somewhat battered and bruised. He has a couple of broken ribs and a broken shoulder. We’ve operated on and bound his ribs and now he’s in recovery. I’ll let you look in the room to see your husband, just to reassure you, then I suggest you and the boy go home, get some sleep and come back this afternoon.’
He took them along the corridor to a room and put his hand on the handle. ‘Just five minutes, that’s all until later this afternoon.’
She and Tim approached the bed, where they looked down at the pale features of the man they both loved. Tim slipped his hand into his sister’s.
‘He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?’
She put her arm round his shoulders and tried to sound positive. ‘Yes, Tim, but he needs time to heal. Now, come along, let’s go home, have some breakfast and get some sleep, after all we want to look our best for Ben when we return.’
Ben wasn’t the only one suffering from injuries. Percy Stanley was in a sorry state. He’d been beaten up by Harry Matthews’s boys when he’d refused to run an errand for the gang boss. He’d been told to go and fetch something for Matthews from his cell by one of his men.
Percy looked at the man. ‘You do it! I’m not one of his lackeys,’ he’d replied.
The convict looked at him. ‘You can’t be that stupid to actually refuse to do this?’
‘I ain’t stupid. But I don’t run after anyone, so bugger off!’
That evening before lockdown, two men came to his cell to teach him a lesson. They gave him two black eyes and covered him in bruises. They left him on the floor of his cell, moaning with pain. Consequently, he had to have stitches put in a deep cut over his right eyebrow.
Despite this, Percy was filled with rage and not repentant in any way. If anything, it only strengthened his resolve to get even. No one was going to take his manhood away, making him into some kind of servant! He deserved respect too. Harry Matthews would have to accept that.
Phoebe, now rested after having eaten and slept, returned to the hospital with Tim later that afternoon and they were shown into a side room and told not to stay for too long today.
Ben was propped up on pillows. He smiled when he saw them. ‘I’m sorry, darling, to be such a nuisance.’
‘Oh, Ben, we’ve been so worried. How do you feel?’
‘As if I’ve been run over by something heavy, but I’ll be all right, eventually. It’ll just take time.’ He looked at Tim. ‘Don’t look so worried, Tim. We’ll still be able to play football and cricket, but not for a while.’
While Ben was trying to placate Tim, Phoebe started unpacking the toiletries she’d brought with her and two pairs of pyjamas. She placed them carefully in the locker for when he was able to use them.
A nurse stepped inside the door. ‘Five more minutes, Mrs Masters.’ She shut the door as she left.
Ben looked weary and Phoebe turned to Tim. ‘We best go, we can come back tomorrow after I pick you up from school.’
They both said their goodbyes, then left, but outside the hospital, Phoebe stopped. She couldn’t face going home at this moment. All she wanted was the comfort of her friend.
‘Let’s go and see Marj,’ she said to Tim.
His little face, drawn and pale, brightened and he nodded.
The market was reasonably busy as they walked towards Marj’s stall. She’d just finished serving a customer and when she saw them approaching, she smiled and waved, then she saw their faces and stopped smiling.
Phoebe and Tim walked behind the stall and Phoebe rushed into the arms of her dear friend and burst into tears.
Looking at Tim, who by now was clinging to her, Marj asked, ‘Whatever ’as ’appened?’
‘Ben’s been attacked and he’s in hospital!’ Then he too burst into tears.
Tony, watching from a distance, saw the distressing sight and came rushing over.
‘What’s going on?’ Marj told him what she’d heard.
‘Oh, my Lord!’ He took Tim into his arms. ‘You all right, my boy?’
With tears streaming down his face, Tim shook his head. ‘I’m the man of the house now. I shouldn’t be crying!’
Tony pulled up a stool Marj kept behind the stall and sat down, taking Tim on his knee.
‘Now, you listen to me, there is no shame in crying if you’re a man. I’ve seen the bravest of men in tears. It shows you really care, Tim. Now tell me what’s happened.’
While Tim was doing so, Phoebe, now somewhat recovered, was doing the same to her friend.
‘There’s a story going round about an attempted robbery in the docks last night, maybe that’s where Ben was injured.’
‘It was such a shock, Marj. Apparently, besides being very bruised, he has a broken shoulder and two broken ribs, but apart from that, he’s all right. I suppose in many ways you could say he was lucky!’
‘Now, try not to worry, he’s in the best place, you’ll just have to be brave … again! Honestly, Phoebe, do you really have to make your life quite so bloody hard?’
This at least made Phoebe laugh. ‘Oh, Marj! Just when everything seemed so wonderful.’
‘That’s life love, but you’ll see it will all get better in time. Now I think we all need cheering up. So you go home, lay the table, and me and Tony will shut up for the day, go and buy some grub, a couple of bottles of Guinness to build us up, and bring them round to your place. That’ll cheer us all up. What do you say?’
‘I think it’s a marvellous idea – and thank you.’
‘Don’t be daft, we’re mates. Now, off you go. Tony, we’re shutting up shop!’
He looked surprised. ‘We are?’
‘We are. We’re taking some grub round to Phoebe and Tim’s, so come on, let’s get on with it!’
Looking at Tim, he said, ‘If you ever get married, be prepared to do as you’re told. Off you go, son, I’ll see you later.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
The following days were busy for Phoebe. She visited Ben early afternoons before picking Tim up from school, thinking it best for the boy to be kept busy. She’d had a word with the headmaster, who was most understanding and promised they would keep an eye on him.
It was now the middle of March and Ben had been in hospital for three weeks. He was waiting anxiously for the surgeon to visit him and tell him that he was well enough to be sent home to finish his recovery, wanting, of course, to be with his family.
Several of his colleagues visited him in the evenings when Phoebe was at home and that had helped pass what had seemed to be endless days, keeping him abreast of any news.
At last he was given the good news. ‘You have to take things easy,’ said the surgeon. ‘I’ll arrange for you to have some physical therapy on that shoulder and in another couple of weeks we’ll X-ray your ribs.’
‘I promise I’ll be careful,’ Ben said. He shook the man’s hand. ‘Thanks, I know how much I owe you and I can never thank you enough.’
The surgeon smiled. ‘It’s what I’m paid to do, Mr Masters, but please take care; I don’t want to see you back here in a bed. I’ll send you an appointment and see you in the outpatient clinic soon.’
Ben started to gather his things together, and when Phoebe arrived, he was sitting on his bed, impatient to be gone. She, of course, was delighted and they ordered a taxi to take him home.
Once home, she made him comfortable on the settee, built up the fire to keep him warm and made a cup of tea and put a hot-water bottle in the bed in case he needed to rest.
‘Oh Ben!’ They snuggled up together, neither talking, but both needing to feel the closeness of the other.
When Tim walked in from school, he was thrilled to see Ben and rushed over to him, flinging his arms around him. ‘Oh, Ben, you’re home!’
‘Gently!’ Phoebe called out, seeing the boy’s enthusiasm.
It was towards the end of April when Ben was given the all clear from the hospital and was able to return to work. As he walked into the police station, he gave a deep sigh of relief. At last, he was back to normal. These past two weeks especially had been hard when he’d felt fit but had to wait for the doctor to sign him off, but now he could put it all behind him.
He was greeted warmly by his colleagues, who teased him unmercifully about taking time off from work, but beneath the banter, they were pleased to see him back.
His boss called him into his office and asked him to sit down.
‘Glad to see you back, Ben. What have the doctors said to you?’
‘That I’m fit for work, but not to do anything too strenuous too soon and to give myself time. But I feel fine and so pleased to be back.’
They chatted about various cases on the books before Ben was dismissed. He returned to his desk and was given some work to be done. He gave a sigh of relief at being back to normality and set to.
There was no such thing as normality at Wormwood Scrubs. Every day there was some incident or other, not surprising when you considered the type of inmates, who lived by their own rules – without consideration to others – and where power was the key and money talks.
Percy Stanley had neither. He who thought he was better than anyone else, found that here he was less than a nobody, nameless and unimportant. The very reason that had put him inside. He didn’t have the money to buy a retinue. No one was interested in following him. If he started complaining about anything, others would just walk away. He had not one friend inside – but he did have an enemy. Harry Matthews. The murderer who had been inside for so long he was the king of the castle! He was the boss among the convicts and had been for longer than anyone could remember.
It was a recognised fact that sometimes a new inmate, full of his own importance, would try and flex his muscles. It was amusing for a while, but then Matthews would get bored and bring the game to an end in various ways, depending on how irritated he was by the offender – and Percy had really annoyed him. His refusal to do his bidding was not to be tolerated. If he let it pass it would appear to be a sign of weakness, and that was not something he suffered from at all.
Percy wasn’t an idiot. He recognised that he was playing with fire, but his arrogance was such that he would not accept the situation. He was, however, careful when scrubbing the corridors after his last run-in with Matthews. He could still taste the soap stuck in his gullet whenever he thought about the incident, but the indignity of it struck in his craw and he wanted revenge. He knew that Matthews liked having fruit in his cell – it was one of his perks − and he carefully collected small iron filings and shattered glass as he cleaned the floors after some work had been done on a faulty window in his section, which had to be drilled. Then, when he was cleaning the area outside of the cell, he carefully cut small sections in an apple with a tip of a razor blade he’d acquired and inserted the sharp pieces of iron and glass, pulling the apple skin carefully into place. He expected that his adversary would just pick up the fruit and bite into it without paying attention. Then he waited.
That evening after everyone was locked up for the night and the prisoners filled their time reading or talking or making a noise, there was a sudden sound of yelling, running feet, keys rattling, doors opening and shutting, coming from the section that housed Harry Matthews. Percy lay back on his bed and chuckled.
At breakfast the following morning, Matthews was not in attendance. Percy collected his meal and sat at his usual table and looked around.
‘Harry Matthews not sitting and holding court?’ he said to the man beside him. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Didn’t you hear the noise last night? He was rushed to the hospital, bleeding from the mouth. Don’t know more than that.’
Percy didn’t answer.
A week later Harry Matthews was back in the dining room at breakfast time. Percy didn’t look in his direction, but he could feel that he was being watched. Later that day, when the prisoners were allowed into the exercise yard, Percy was sitting alone, having a cigarette, when Matthews strolled over.
‘That was very stupid of you,’ he sneered. ‘You’d best keep looking over your shoulder, because your days are numbered.’
Percy just stared at him.
Later that day, Percy was summoned to see the governor. He was marched into his office and stood in front of the large table, the governor sat staring at him.
‘I like to run a tight ship here, Stanley. I’m well aware of what goes on in my prison. I know about Harry Matthews and his followers. It may surprise you to know that I don’t mind his so-called exalted position because his control keeps everyone in their place and in fact it helps me and my warders to run the prison without too much hassle. That is, until we get someone like you in. A person who thinks he’s important, special. Well, you are not! You’re here because you committed a murder and were given life instead of the rope. But you are not satisfied to just serve your time, you want to be something you’re not and never will be. I’m not having you upset my record, because if you stay here, Matthews will have to eliminate you because you’re a nuisance and you won’t stop making trouble − I know your kind. Now, I can’t have that, so I’m transferring you today to Winchester Prison. The warder will go with you while you pack. You may go.’
Percy was marched to his cell and made to pack his belongings. As he did so, he had mixed feelings. Maybe it was for the best. There would eventually have been a settling between him and Matthews and Percy knew he would be the loser. He was content that he’d put the convict in hospital and that was enough for his inflated ego. In his own mind, he’d won.
As he walked along the corridor with the warder, Matthews stood watching him, grinning broadly. As Percy glared at him, Matthews drew his finger across his throat and then pointed at Percy. This unnerved him. Was he sending him a message?
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ben had been sent to Winchester Prison to interview a prisoner and was standing at the front desk when Percy Stanley arrived, escorted by a warder.
Ben looked at him. ‘I thought they sent you to the Scrubs?’
Percy glared at him. ‘Me and another prisoner didn’t get on. He thought he ran the place and I didn’t agree. So they moved me to keep the other bloke safe.’
The warder who’d accompanied him burst out laughing. ‘My goodness, Stanley, you have a fertile imagination.’
Ben, now curious, asked, ‘Who was this person?’
‘A bloke called Harry Matthews, just another con.’
‘You tried to take on Matthews? I can’t believe even you would be that stupid!’
At that moment, the desk sergeant appeared and spoke to Ben. ‘Right, Detective, your man is in interview room three.’
Ben glared at Percy. ‘You’re where you should be, shut away behind bars. It’s your poor brother I feel sorry for. He didn’t have a chance at leading a good life because of you, but at least his final few months gave him a taste of what could have been. He deserved that, at least.’ He walked away, leaving Percy seething with rage.
That evening, as Phoebe was about to serve their meal, Ben said, ‘I saw Percy Stanley today.’
Phoebe nearly dropped the plate she was holding as her hands started shaking.
Ben got to his feet and held her tightly. ‘It’s all right, darling, it was in Winchester Prison. He’s safely locked away!’
‘Oh my God! For one awful moment I thought
he was free. The idea that we might meet terrified me.’
‘You’ve no need to worry. He was just being transferred. Apparently, he’d been causing trouble and they moved him. If he doesn’t behave here, he’ll be put in solitary confinement. That would soon calm him down. Now, forget him, he’s the past … shut away … out of our lives.’
But as she served the dinner, Phoebe knew it would take some time for her to forget her dealings with Percy Stanley.
During the following few weeks, Phoebe settled down to being a housewife, but she found the days long and badly missed the camaraderie of the market traders, and in particular her dear friend Marj. Having finished her housework one day, she put on her coat and headed for Kingsland Market.
As she entered the market, she could see Marj was sitting down. This was unusual because the place was busy. Marj only ever took a seat when business was quiet. When she stood in front of the stall, she was shocked to see how ill her friend appeared to be. She walked behind the stall and put her hand on her shoulder.
‘What’s wrong, you look awful?’
‘I feels rough, girl, and no mistake.’ She started coughing and holding her chest when she did so.
Phoebe put her hand on Marj’s forehead. She was burning up.
‘I’m packing up your stall and taking you home,’ she declared. Just then, Tony came hurrying over and Phoebe told him what she was going to do.
‘I’ve told her to stay in bed, Phoebe, but she won’t listen.’
Kneeling beside Marj, Phoebe said, ‘You stay here, and I’ll be bringing flowers to your funeral and I’m not going to let that happen. Give me the keys to your lock-up!’
