Black Tears

by Woods, Karen

  ‘MANCHESTER’S ANSWER TO MARTINA COLE’

  WATERSTONES.CO.UK

  “A gritty, raw, honest piece of work. A bittersweet insight into Manchester life that is heart-breakingly accurate”

  REBECCA ATKINSON (SHAMELESS)

  BLACK TEARS

  A NOVEL BY KAREN WOODS

  First published in 2010 by Empire Publications

  Smashwords Edition

  © Karen Woods 2010

  ISBN: 1901746720

  The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Published by Empire Publications at Smashwords

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is available in print at:

  http://www.empire-uk.com/blacktears.htm

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank so many people in Manchester for the support I have been given following my first book. Firstly, my four beautiful children Ashley, Blake, Declan and Darcy. Also my Grandson Dolton and his mother Toni, who has been patient with me while I have been writing. Also my parents Margaret and Alan who have supported me and believed in me.

  Writing is a lonely business and my friend Helen has been with me all the way, helping and supporting me. My mentor, fellow author Paul Kennedy, has also helped - we have laughed along the way and I know he has been near strangling me a couple of times but his support has been incredible.

  I would also like to thank Nicola Murphy and Lee Kyte from the band Northern Icon, and Martin Finnigan from The Rainband, who have both recorded songs about my first book Broken Youth.

  Rebecca Atkinson (Shameless) has supported me and provided the foreword for Black Tears. She is a star in her own right, and I can’t thank her enough for everything that she has done.

  Also John Ireland and Ashley Shaw from Empire publications who have believed in me from the start and made all this possible.

  My Niece Brogan Woods deserves a mention, for being an inspiration to me and showing me that no matter what happens in life, we can get through it with a smile on our face. Also to all my facebook friends thanks for the support.

  To James who has stood by me and supported me. My last thanks is to my son in heaven Dale, I’ll never forget you and somehow writing these books has helped me say goodbye to you, even though you are always in my heart.

  1

  Gordon clenched his fist tight as the judge passed sentence, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed them together. He knew he had to live the next five years of his life in prison. The judge peered over his oval glasses and looked at him as he stood tall, looking like he was about to explode. The noise inside the courtroom subsided as everyone listened.

  “You are a menace to society young man and especially to women. You’re a bully and prey on young, defenceless people who know no better. I hope the time you spend in prison will help you reflect on the crime you have committed and try to change the monster you have become.” Gordon raised his head and tugged at his white fitted t-shirt. His solicitor had advised him to wear a suit for court but Gordon had told him to ‘fuck off’ and came to court in his everyday clothing. He stared directly into the judge’s eyes before he spoke.

  “Do ya think jail will sort me out ya wanker? I’ll do my time on my fucking head. Fuck you and fuck the system ya tosser.” Gordon looked at the people sitting in the wooden dock facing him and started to shout at each of them like a wild man, as security tried to eject him from the courtroom.

  “You load of wankers. Who the fuck do ya think you are, messing round with people’s lives. Fuck the lot of ya, because I’ll do my time and I’ll be back out soon, so just watch ya fucking backs.” The judge sprung out of his large black leather chair and ordered security to take him down to the cells, as he could see the jury were terrified and he didn’t want them to feel any more intimidated. The two stocky Group Four guards dressed in white shirts and black trousers grabbed Gordon’s hands and tried to restrain him as he struggled to break free.

  Everyone watched the battle between them and one jury member hid her face behind her shaking hands. Gordon head-butted one of them and tried to grab the radio so he couldn’t call for help, but it was too late - the door opened from behind him and in ran more staff to restrain him. Immediately they restrained Gordon before carrying him away kicking and screaming at the top of his voice. The courtroom felt cold and the members of the jury looked agitated as the reality of it all hit home. One of them stood up and made it quite clear he would never sit on a jury again as he now feared for his own safety. He told the courtroom Gordon had gotten a good look at them all and wanted to know what protection they would have when this man was finally freed. Every member of the jury felt the same way. The way this man had looked at them left them in fear. Gordon’s screams could still be heard as they dragged him to the cells. They all felt he was a threat to them.

  The jury were escorted to a side room and the police officer who had given evidence against Gordon tried to comfort them. They all gave their names and addresses to the usher and were promised protection once he was freed. Gordon had been found guilty of the rape of his ex girlfriend Misty Sullivan, possession of a firearm and ABH on the officers who arrested him.

  The team of Group Four security guards threw Gordon into the holding cell and slammed the door as quickly as possible. He was like a caged animal frothing from the mouth and the abuse he shouted shook the cell walls.

  “Fucking bastards! Takes a team of you to hold me down does it? Well let’s see when you have to let me out; who the big men are then, I’ll wipe the fucking lot of you right out!” Gordon laughed as he kicked the cell door before walking slowly to the small wooden platform on the opposite side of the room. The platform was situated across the back wall and the smell of sweaty feet lingered all over it. The lighting was poor in the cell and he found it hard to read the things people had engraved on the walls. He felt like he could conquer anything as he lay on the bed. He knew the next five years would be hard but the one thing that kept him strong was the thought of knowing Misty would pay for every day he spent in jail.

  He’d seen Misty during the trial with her husband Dominic who was never far from her side. As she walked into the courtroom, his heart melted at the sight of her. She looked so defenceless and innocent but he still felt the urge to hurt her badly. Misty still looked as stunning as ever to him and the red fitted dress she wore showed off all the curves he’d once caressed. He loved the way her dark hair shone under the courtroom lights. Her hair had always attracted him and her long dark locks now looked sexier than ever. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the smell of her hair and he inhaled deeply remembering their times together.

  Her eyes looked tired as he searched her face for any signs of love for him but no matter how much he studied her, her face remained the same. She hadn’t made eye contact with him as she gave evidence to the courtroom and he knew everyone believed her story regarding the shotgun. As he cast his eyes over to where she sat, he wanted to shout out that she still had his money. The money he had stolen from the armed robberies he’d committed before he was arrested. He bit his tongue however as he knew nobody must know the truth. He couldn’t chance any connection with it, as he knew that would definitely give him more time in prison. So, for now, he just gazed at her with malice in his eyes praying for the time when he would seek revenge.

  Dominic looked s
traight at Gordon as he stood in the dock and their eyes met for at least five minutes like gunslingers at dawn. Dominic wore a black suit to court and looked respectable unlike Gordon. The white shirt he wore looked fresh and clean. His body looked so different from the way Gordon remembered it. His once boyish frame now looked toned and full of strength. Gordon screwed his face up as he looked at him and nodded his head slowly letting him know his time would also come. Surprisingly Dominic never flinched and stood his ground. He knew if he showed any sign of weakness he would have laughed in his face and considered him an easy target. Dominic’s face slowly nodded back at Gordon letting him know he was ready for whatever he had to throw at him.

  Gordon’s mother had sat in the courtroom. Her face was filled with grief and her grey hair was held back from her face by two rusty clips. She had tried to dress smart for the trial but her heart was like a lead weight and she had no interest in the way she looked anymore. She felt so ashamed of her son and couldn’t believe that he was the person they were all talking about. When they took Gordon down to the cells, ranting and raving, tears filled her eyes as the members of the court all gazed at her. The tears she cried were the tears of a mother who still couldn’t help feel love for her son, she also felt relieved that he was out of her life for the next five years and she could relax knowing he wouldn’t be knocking on her door late at night making her life a misery.

  Francesca had slowly rocked as Gordon was carted away. He had been her life for so long and without him, she felt empty inside. She also held a secret and was hoping he would have walked free so she could share the news with him. Francesca had made the unusual effort that day to look respectable for court. Her black pants suit now looked like a bag of rags as she tried to wipe the fluff from it. She had borrowed ten pounds from Gordon’s mam to go to Primark and get something to wear, hoping it might help his case. Her once seductive auburn hair was held in a ponytail and the roots were more than half way down her head. The happy times she’d imagined in her mind seemed so far away and she questioned whether she could care for a child on her own. Gordon’s mother struggled to stand as they left courtroom nine in Manchester Crown court and held onto Francesca’s arm for support. Francesca slowly followed behind her, making sure she didn’t keel over as her gammy leg had been playing up lately and she was finding it hard to walk. Francesca’s world was shattered into a thousand pieces and life without him just seemed unbearable. At that moment, she hated her best friend Misty more than ever for making her lose the man she adored. The walk to the exit seemed long and both of them felt exhausted. As they walked down the red stairway carpet, her heart sank as tears appeared on her cheeks like a river of sadness.

  The hours passed and the Group Four employees were ready to confront Gordon to see if he had calmed down. As they looked through the small window on the iron door, a man lay on the platform in front of them. His six-foot body looked a threat to anyone who crossed him. Gordon had been busting the gym for the last few months and his muscles bulged from head to toe. He looked as if he had calmed down and his eyes were staring into space as if he was in a world of his own, thinking of better times in his life. Cautiously, the guards slowly opened the door and stood facing him ready for whatever he had to give.

  “Right lad, we don’t want any trouble. It’s up to you. You can do this the hard way or the easy way. What’s it to be?” The men now stood like soldiers ready for war and watched his every move as they slowly entered his cell. Gordon thought about wiping the four of them out but he knew one way or another he was fighting a losing battle and chuckled as he stood up.

  “Listen, I was fucked off before. Fuckin hell I’ve just had five years shoved up my arse, what do ya expect? Anyway, I’m sorted now and won’t give ya any more trouble. Where am I going anyway?”

  The men looked relieved but still were cautious as they approached him knowing he could be having them over.

  “Strangeways mate. That’s where they’re sending you for now, unless you’re shipped out. So you should be alright as long as you keep your neck out of trouble.” Gordon grinned and thought he’d got a result in going to the ‘ways, as he knew a few lads already in there. He had feared he would be shipped to another jail leaving him miles from home. This was a result for him because if he’d been sent far away his visits would have been few and far between, as he knew his mother and Francesca didn’t have a pot to piss in. His sentence had knocked him for six deep inside but he tried to remain calm as they approached.

  The men placed the cuffs round his hands and the group headed down the long corridor where a few other lads were waiting to be shipped out as well. The convicts had that hard look in their eyes and some of them looked as if they’d already lost the plot. Gordon knew he would have to kick some arse to show them he was no nobhead once inside.

  All the paperwork was completed at the main desk and each of them in turn were put into the large white van, known as a sweatbox. All that was behind each door was a small window and a seat, which didn’t give you enough room to swing a cat in. Gordon was led into the van and once he was seated, the door was bolted behind him. His head fell into his hands and anger filled him as tears trickled down his face. He listened to all the doors being closed in the van and he could hear one lad crying his eyes out and shouting that he was innocent and proclaiming that he ‘shouldn’t be here’.

  Gordon looked out of the window knowing nobody could see his face and cried like a small child holding his mouth so nobody could hear his sobs. This was the real Gordon that no one ever saw and not the one he pretended to be. This was his life now, he thought, and he would have to get used to doors being bolted behind him. He knew he would be forever watching his back because he’d heard lots of stories about life inside the prison.

  2

  The journey didn’t take long from Manchester Crown Court to Stangeways, and soon Gordon’s door was opened. His eyes squeezed together as the daylight hit them. He watched the other men being lined up and the lad who had been crying previously was still declaring his innocence to the group. The screw now looked at the bag of bones in front of him and laughed.

  “Oh, not another fucking innocent man. Tell ya what mate, if I had a pound for every time an inmate had said that, I would be a rich man. So take a bit of advice, shut the fuck up and just do ya time like everyone else has too.” The inmate yanked his over sized jeans up from his waist and followed the officer to the main office still sobbing. All the doors were opened and locked behind them as they were escorted through the gates of the prison. They finally found themselves in a small room with a prison warden stood behind a tall wooden desk. Gordon’s eyes focused on the man he saw in front of him and listened to him as he asked them each to fill out a form with medical questions on it. A smack head was now shaking desperately, telling the screw he was a heroin addict and that he needed medical attention straight away to stop him going cold turkey. The screw looked at him and said he would have to wait until the doctor came round in the next hour, as he didn’t issue medication. The bag head now held his stomach and started to roll around as if he was going to shit himself. He knew the nights that lay ahead would be long and hard without any drugs to feed his addiction. One of the new inmates who stood next to him looked at him and started to speak in a sarcastic manner.

  “Listen, ya fuckin smack head. Stop being a mard arse and do ya roast.” The screw heard the conversation and stepped in telling him to move along. The rattling drug addict walked past the inmates and started to fill out a doctor’s request form with a shaking hand. The snide remarks kept coming at him as they watched him from a distance and he knew they thought he was the scum of the earth and the lowest of the low.

  “Fucking junkie. Low-life fucker, better not get padded up with me, keeping me awake all night crying for fucking drugs.” You could tell the druggie was at breaking point and it was only the sound of other screw’s voices that made them stop. The convicts were all issued grey trousers and red t-shirts. They were als
o given several pairs of socks and boxer shorts. To some of them it brought a smile to their faces as they’d had never owned as much clothing in their lives and they held on to them tightly as if they were bars of gold. The next step was a body search and each prisoner had to go into a small room to be searched from top to bottom. As Gordon took his turn, he noticed the screw putting on plastic disposable gloves. He was made to strip down to his bare bollocks and then the screw run his fingers through his thick crop of dark hair. He was then asked him to squat down over a mirror to make sure he hadn’t shoved anything up his arse. Gordon laughed and told him to fuck off but when the other two screws moved towards him, he had no choice.

  “Fucking joke this. What the fuck could I possibly shove up my arse? Do ya think my mobile phone’s up there or something?” The screw laughed and told him he would be surprised what convicts had previously shoved up their arse. As he continued, he casually leant back against the wall and reminded the other screws of a previous inmate’s misfortune. Apparently, a previous criminal had shoved a small mobile phone up his arse and forgot to turn it off. Eventually, when he was due to be searched, someone decided to phone him. They all laughed from their bellies as he continued his story doing all the actions.

  “There I was doing my normal search and when I asked the fucker to squat, the fucking glory, glory Man United ring-tone came playing out of his arsehole. The cheeky bastard looked at me and he could tell I was onto him, and before we knew it we were all laughing as he tried to pull it out of his arse laughing his head off. It was a memorable day I tell ya and one of the funniest things I have ever witnessed doing this job.” Gordon at that moment seemed to forget about the humiliation of it all and laughed as he bent down to get his arse searched. Just before the search took place, Gordon started singing glory Man United at full pelt and they all laughed with him taking the pressure off the moment.

  The searches were all done and the screws escorted them through some great big wooden doors that looked quite ancient. Once the doors were opened the chill of the place made the new inmates realise that this was where they were going to live for the rest of their sentences. The walls were painted in a very dull cream colour and the bricks were still visible through the paintwork on the wall. The metal stairs in the middle of the prison led to what looked like a landing on top of it. You could see silver guardrails secured around it.