Fifty Years of Fear

by Ross Greenwood

  He took a deep breath and my life went full circle.

  ‘I’m sure you remember our night out in Cromer when we drove there to see if we could find that French girl, Sara. Three boys attacked us. After our fight, one of them died, and one of them hovered in a coma for months. He wasn’t the same afterwards, which only left a single witness.

  ‘He told the police a gang of men attacked them, five or something. That we beat the shit out of them, smashed a man to pulp on a post and repeatedly kicked another in the head. His bruised and battered body confirmed his story.

  ‘Afterwards, when he sobered up, he couldn’t picture our faces, or recall many details. Not surprising, seeing as there were only two of us. They had no evidence, no witnesses, no weapons, nothing. All they had was my blood at the scene which didn’t match anything on their database.

  ‘It was a dark night and long before CCTV. After they arrested me for that assault, they took my DNA. It was cross-checked at some point and matched and here I am. Charged with murder and manslaughter as the second one died six years ago.’

  He sat back in his seat and it was his turn to eyeball me. My mind wandered from how unfair life could be when we were the victims, to the terrifying realisation of what he’d said. I killed a man by bashing him against a post. The one I kicked died too. Years later, but undeniably due to my actions.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Quite. Hard to believe that something so long ago would come along and bite us in the arse.’

  ‘What did you say when they arrested you?’

  ‘Nothing, I said nothing. I remember the stitch-up that you went through.’

  ‘What will you say? When you go to court?’

  ‘I’ll tell them what happened. Three men chased me and a friend of mine. They attacked and we fought them off. That’s it. We left, not knowing they were injured as we feared for our lives. If they find the bouncers who chucked us out, they'll confirm that we were only two. I missed off the part about you goading them in the nightclub.’

  ‘Goading who? What do you mean, everyone was staring at us?’

  ‘You had that look on your face, Vinnie. The one that scares people and you were scanning the room like Robocop. It’s not entirely surprising they had the hump.’

  ‘You started it by elbowing that bloke under the chin in the club.’

  ‘He told me they were going to kill you. His exact words.’

  ‘It didn’t necessarily mean they would.’

  ‘Look, they chased us and we defended ourselves. Don’t worry, I haven't mentioned I was with you. I know I’m partly responsible for what happened. When they asked who the other person with me was, I named an old navy friend, one who’s now long dead.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  I let the consequences of our actions filter through my brain. Absorbing what was important and discarding the rest.

  ‘You could go down for murder.’

  ‘It’s his word against mine. I just have to hope he will cave under questioning.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Why not tell them the truth? We did what had to be done.’

  That phrase came out unintentionally and my brother finally lost his temper.

  ‘Vinnie. Listen to yourself. You did what had to be done? You killed a man. That’s Mum talking and she was insane. You aren’t God. Life’s not like that. Can’t you see Mum for what she was?’

  I considered his words. We used to joke that she was crazy. Perhaps, it wasn’t so funny. The phrase that arose in my mind like a ghostly apparition was one my mother often said; ‘In the end, the only judgement that matters is that of your children’. That’s a strange thing to say. Taking into account what we now knew about her, we’d have to be mad ourselves to condone her behaviour.

  However, I didn’t have children, so maybe I didn’t understand. Does a mother’s love and protection outweigh any other considerations? There seemed to be nothing she wouldn’t do to protect her family. History is full of people lying to save their offspring. Not killing, though. I couldn’t condone that kind of thinking.

  We pretend to be civilised but so many are consumed and controlled by animalistic drives that prove otherwise. My mum's statement confirmed that. Only someone psychotic would make such an absolute declaration.

  ‘Are you saying our mum was a psychopath?’

  ‘Do you know what, I researched it. Psychopaths view their innocent victims as inhuman objects. That fits her a little. Although, they are often smartly dressed, charming yet unemotional, and can also be intelligent. Does that sound like Mum?’

  Strange how he'd looked it up too. I thought of my mum in her baggy jeans from the charity shop, slopping cider on her top as she laughed her head off at my dad’s terrible jokes.

  ‘No, not quite. Pretty far from it in fact. So, what was she?’

  ‘I checked out sociopaths too. They at least have a conscience, but it’s flimsy. They may know stealing or killing is wrong, and might feel guilt or remorse, but that wouldn’t stop them doing it. It sounds closer, but I think she was just nuts, or easily scared and prone to lashing out. Perhaps she inherited a terrible murderous temper. One she passed down the line?’

  What was he implying?

  ‘Why, Frank? Is that you? Do you feel insane? Do you have the urge to kill?’

  ‘Not me, Vinnie. You.’

  My eyes widened to protest and I felt a shiver go through my body. Frank’s words put me in a box, he closed the lid and hammered it shut with facts. Nail after nail. Some vivid, others remembered. All familiar.

  Chapter 49

  ‘The boy up the slide. That was you. I tried to get you to let him down, but you were like a demon. Dad called you his ‘Devil child’, but it was only half a joke. Your destructive rages would come from nowhere and sweep through the house. Hurting people, physically and mentally, and breaking furniture and toys with any part of your body available.

  ‘The reason you remember the cupboard under the stairs is because that’s where our parents used to lock you. It was the only thing that calmed you down. You would sit in the dark on the little boxer’s stool they put in there, and go quiet. When they opened the door an hour or so later, out you came as though nothing had happened.’

  ‘They didn’t know what to do with you. We had experts come to the house and you had tests at the hospital. I wonder now if they knew of our mum’s back story. They looked on in horror when they saw you torturing our toys and dolls.

  ‘The day before your seventh birthday, you went in the road and a car hit you head on. The driver was a debt collector who'd been hassling one of our neighbours. He swore you ran at his car and attacked him. We didn't say anything, and the police thought he was in shock. Clearly, we weren’t surprised and could believe it. They induced a coma for a few days as you had a swelling on the brain. They told us we might lose you.’

  ‘Eventually you came home but you’d changed. The past had been erased. You seemed to be able to pick up eating and talking, but we had to teach you to read and write again. You rarely read before, but afterwards it was all you wanted to do. It was as if you were desperately trying to find the information that could fill the holes in your memory.

  ‘The violent outbursts stopped and loads of things scared you. I suppose they would have done because you hadn’t seen them before. Like a child that’s frightened by a dog or a clown because they haven’t been close to one yet. Even adults are wary of new experiences as they don’t know what to expect.’

  ‘It was kind of funny as we were nervous. If you tripped over or made a mistake, we held our breaths, waiting for you to explode. You didn’t though. When kids bullied you at school, you looked at them like you couldn’t understand what was going on.’

  ‘The one time you lashed out at them was when you stamped on John Victory’s foot in the tuck shop queue. Mum went loopy when she found out. She blamed him and thought the beast was returning. I suppose that’s why she did what she did.’

  ‘I don’t remember doing tha
t. Are you sure?’

  ‘Someone who was there told me. They said your face became blank and you stepped back and drove your heel into his. Afterwards, you stood there and smiled, as if nothing had occurred.’

  ‘All this time, I thought you were the wayward son,’ I said. ‘The fighter. Always out and up to no good. I never went anywhere.’

  ‘Mum and Dad cut me some slack if I looked after you. The amount of fights I got in protecting you was ridiculous. You were oblivious to what was happening. You didn’t have any friends as you couldn't remember making any, or even understand how to be one. You became nervous of going out on your own because you had lost the confidence that familiarity provides.

  ‘Underneath it all though, you were a fantastic person. Brilliant with looking after Dad and helping out. You wanted nothing for yourself. I was confused after our parents died because I felt as if I'd let Mum down. That she had to kill Dad, so we wouldn’t feel too guilty. How nuts is that?’

  ‘She recognised you, in herself. Vinnie. She worried you would end up in prison like she did. I think she thought if you got cross, violence would return. That’s why she instructed me to protect you, to stop people from provoking you.

  ‘Until that point, I was normal but not after she asked that. I loved football and just being a kid. Did you know I used to be in the top sets, and that I kept goal for the school team? I had to become something I'm not.

  ‘The only person I’d had a fight with before that was you. Because you cut the limbs off my favourite action man. Even after that, you attacked me because I complained. Jesus, having to defend myself from my bonkers little brother. The fact she told me to be your shadow, and explained why, hung between us for the rest of her life. She regretted it but felt there was no other option. Maybe there wasn’t.’

  ‘What a family,’ was all I could come up with.

  ‘I said that to you before. Maybe there’s something twisted in our DNA. It’s why I never had children and was secretly relieved when you didn’t. Whatever raged in you as a child is still there. The older you are the stronger it becomes. You would have killed that bloke on your stag night if Kevin hadn’t pulled you away.’

  I immediately believed he was right. I had lost control. Desperate not to recall that evening, I changed the subject.

  ‘Why don’t you tell them the truth? That it was you and me who had that fight in Cromer.’

  ‘I had a think about it. You’ve been through too much. Let me take this burden from you as I’m also to blame. It will make up for the time I disappeared too. Remember, twenty years ago, after I missed your wedding. I said I would make it up to you. This is me doing that, Vinnie.’

  Then, he nodded and smiled. What was I missing? Could it be guilt for all those lost years? I’m sure he felt awful for not attending my wedding. Then, it came and it was obvious. No wonder he didn’t say it out loud.

  ‘You have more chance of them believing you by saying you were with a dead guy, don’t you? You do run the risk of him accusing you of killing the others, but he shouldn’t be able to as he was fighting you at the time. You’re worried I might lose my temper in court, shout they deserved it or something equally condemning. You reckon your odds are improved without me.’

  He looked away, so I knew I was close, but hadn’t quite hit the bullseye.

  ‘Ah, now I get it. You don’t want to stand up in the dock next to a sex offender serving eighteen years. I know what people think. Guilty of that, he is capable of anything. Send him down, send them both down, guilty as charged, no trial needed.’

  He looked at me and shrugged. A gesture that broke my heart. He spoke slowly.

  ‘It’s true though, isn’t it? You are better off in here and away from it.’

  We sat in silence, and I watched the other inmates kissing their wives and girlfriends. I saw drugs pass from one mouth to another. There were bored toddlers and terrified teenagers, unbelieving parents, and Frank and me. I didn’t fit in this world. I now find out I never did. Frank whispered his latest news.

  ‘They’re moving me to Norwich prison tomorrow. It’s why the Director agreed to let us meet. The case will be heard at Norwich Crown Court, so I need to plead and then wait until it goes to trial. It might take a year.

  ‘Unbelievable, isn’t it? Due to the severity of the charges it’s unlikely I’ll get bail, so I'll have to stay inside all that time. I doubt they'll allow us to visit each other again, so this is goodbye, Vinnie. At least for a bit.’

  I knew that was for the best, yet I felt pathetic because I couldn’t help thinking he'd let me down. That he didn’t trust me. The possibility of him going down for murder would leave me with only one friend. I said as much.

  ‘Let’s hope Silent Kevin doesn’t move away, or I’ll have nobody to ring.’

  ‘Ah, I forgot about that.’

  ‘Why? What happened?’

  ‘Kevin is permanently silent. He was at his machine on the factory floor and went to see the nurse. Told them he felt short of breath. He sat on the bed they kept in there, said, ‘No’, lay down and died. A pulmonary embolism, they explained. Dead before his head hit the pillow.’

  Kevin was gone too. Fury rose in me. It wasn't fair, for one person, to lose everything. My mind scrambled around for some normality; any kind of distraction.

  ‘What’s an embolism?’

  ‘A big blood clot from the leg passed along his veins and blocked the flow in his lungs. He would probably have died in the hospital so he had no chance with the company first aider.’

  I wasn’t one of those prisoners who had found God, yet I still looked above, to ponder if things could get any worse. It didn’t seem possible but they would.

  ‘Can I ask you a question, Vinnie? Be honest with me. You remember that bully, Kilkenny, the one who got stabbed to death in the showers on your wing? When he died, did you have anything to do with it?’

  I’m not sure I’d ever lied to my brother, not so blatantly to his face. Maybe it was an impulsive response to him not trusting me.

  ‘No, an old guy called Doc did it. They found him on top of Kilkenny holding the pool cue, while it was embedded inside his head. Doc was still alive at that point, and just before he passed out, he confessed. His last words were, “I do this for the world” - very melodramatic. He was dying anyway and never regained consciousness.’

  I pondered over that afterwards; Doc and Kilkenny dying simultaneously. If there is an afterlife, it would be bad news for both. They would have been on the same elevator down. The hellevator, as Karen called it. That would certainly be poetic justice. Bonded in life and then screaming together in the Devil’s house for ever more. Eternity with Kilkenny was a frightening prospect. That sounded like hell to me.

  ‘How did he get the better of someone that big and strong?’

  ‘No idea. He'd written a letter admitting his desire to ‘save the world from evil’. They found it resting against the window in his cell. Included were fifty different times and dates when Kilkenny hurt or stole from him. He was gripping the murder weapon and provided his intentions and the motive.

  ‘Funny how eighty men use those showers but nobody saw a thing. They investigated but never discovered any other explanation. I don't think they care too much though, and it’s been quieter on there since he’s gone. No one got into trouble apart from Treacle.’

  ‘Who’s he? The officer?’

  I smiled. The prison grapevine was accurate, for once.

  ‘Yes, we all get what we deserve in the end.’

  ‘I heard that too. They found a load of stuff in Kilkenny’s cell that had been brought in the jail for him - mobile phones, spice, gear. Bizarrely, even a receipt for the phone. It didn't take MI5 to trace that back, with Treacle's face clear on the CCTV and his fingerprints over everything. I wonder what Kilkenny had on him to get him to bring drugs and phones in for him.’

  ‘I should think it was only fear. That would be enough.’

  We contemplated those word
s and finished our drinks. An officer came by and gave us the nod. That was our time over. We shook hands, the earlier warmth lost somewhere in the last hour.

  With Frank and Kevin gone, I would be alone. No one to miss me and nothing to wait for. I think I made my decision then, but it was a letter that killed me.

  Chapter 50

  2016 – Age: 50

  Frank’s lack of faith in me on that visit was a hurtful memory that stayed ever present. I struggled through Christmas but time had hung heavy. I gave up the Listener job and trudged along to woodwork with the rest.

  Although Kilkenny’s absence left a vacancy, no one stepped up to fill it. People were wary of me again, as they were at school. Prisoners still came with their problems and questions; however, they were reserved and respectful. On the odd occasion, I would catch someone pointing at me from across the landing.

  When I looked in my blurred mirror, I felt like pointing at myself. I didn’t recognise the man staring back. Even Frank saw me as somebody I never knew existed.

  The officer that replaced Treacle was a happy lad. I often wondered how long he’d last. It was long enough for him to tell me I had a letter on my floor when I returned from work one afternoon.

  Perhaps he was aware I got little post so thought it would cheer me up. Receiving any correspondence was an unusual event for me. Some cons constantly bothered the screws to see if they had any post. I’d never done that as I rarely received anything unless it was official, and I'd been away too many years for much of that.

  It had been opened of course as they looked in all of our mail. Most of us weren’t allowed any contact with children so everything was checked. This extended to pictures of kids, and for the sickest, even ones of their own. They can’t have read the letter I got that day or any sane person would have had me monitored.

  The writing on the front was floral and made me think of a woman. The name that sprang to the forefront of my mind was Sara’s. Maybe she had found me after all the years. I allowed myself a minute lying on my bed to recall that time. I remembered feeling the world was shrinking and as a person I was growing. Typical of my luck to end up in a prison.