Prisoner

by Ross Greenwood

  She passes me another piece of paper. Then she fiddles with the phone in her hand, holds it up and takes a photo of me.

  ‘For my locket,’ she states.

  She fixes me with her stare for a final time, then walks away to the end of the road. There’s a big lad, wearing a leather jacket, sitting on the street sign watching us, who looks vaguely familiar. When she reaches him, she stops to talk. They both look back my way. Just behind them, Colt walks around the corner, holding hands with a blonde girl. He gives the lad in the leather jacket a filthy glance, then walks towards me.

  I turn back to my house, where Abi is staring out of the kitchen window.

  79

  When I open the door, Abi is waiting behind it.

  ‘That looked cosy. What did she want?’

  My brain whirrs like a spinning top.

  ‘She lent me some money to get my car fixed while you were away, and she wanted it back.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I didn’t have it on me, and she got arsey when I said I’d give it to her tomorrow.’

  ‘Does she still work at the prison?’

  ‘No, she left to have the baby.’

  ‘She seemed very angry.’

  ‘She also wanted to borrow extra off me, but I said I had none to spare.’

  Abi’s frown softens. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, she isn’t working, so how’s she going to pay it back? We need that money to put towards a new house.’

  ‘So, she helps when you need it, but then you do a credit check when she asks you for a favour. How much did she want?’

  ‘I owe her a hundred, and she wants another hundred.’

  ‘Jesus, can’t you give her fifty or something?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘You need to get changed. We’ve got guests for tea.’

  I groan. I’m not in the mood for Colt. The doorbell rings while I’m climbing the stairs. I put a clean shirt on and return downstairs. There’s loud talking and laughter coming from the lounge. I open the door and Colt is sitting on my sofa with Ivan on his lap. Next to him is the blonde-haired girl, who is dressed like a hippy and looks about seventeen. Tilly is staring at her as if Elsa from Frozen has turned up in real life.

  ‘Jimbo!’ shouts Colt. He manhandles Ivan off him, which would usually make Ivan angry, but he doesn’t seem to care. Colt glances back at the girl. ‘Elizabeth, this man saved my life. Thank you, Jim. Really, you are a great guy.’

  There’s something dodgy going on here. Colt sounds funny.

  ‘It’s fine, Colt. You’re family, after all.’

  I attempt a smile, but Colt leans in.

  ‘It’s Wyatt. No more Colt, okay?’

  ‘Dinner’s served,’ shouts Abi from the kitchen.

  ‘Ooh, super, I’m starving,’ says Elizabeth, beaming at Wyatt. ‘Show me the way, honey.’

  Wyatt beams back at her. I have an urge to vomit. Abi has cooked baked salmon, which I’m not keen on, but it’s Wyatt’s favourite. She serves him first, too.

  ‘So how did you two meet?’ Abi asks Wyatt.

  ‘A bloke at the prison told us about this course on training to be a chef. They had some spaces for people who’ve been in the nick.’

  ‘And you’re on the course as well, Elizabeth?’ asks Abi.

  ‘Call me, Liz, please. Wyatt insists on calling me Elizabeth. He says I’m posh.’ She titters, sounding very posh. ‘And yes. The course isn’t just for people like Wyatt. I’d love to be a top chef even though Daddy isn’t keen, but I know my own mind.’

  Talk about opposites attract. I can tolerate love’s young dream, but I don’t want it putting me off my food. I zone in and out of the conversation, thinking about Billie. Do I give her the money? Who knows how many times she’s going to come back? I need her out of my life for good.

  After dinner, Liz gets dragged into the sitting room to play Connect Four with the kids. Wyatt wants a smoke, so I go outside at the same time and ask him to go for a walk.

  ‘Nice girl, eh?’ he says.

  ‘Yes, she doesn’t seem the type to like gangsters. Is she mad, or drunk?’

  ‘Very funny. I was nervous at the start of the course, but I didn’t want to mess it up, so I cut the attitude. We were sat together, and she’s all chatty and confident and sexy. Anyway, I keep quiet and she asks if I fancy a coffee afterwards. Now we’re tight. I’m in love, man.’

  ‘What of your lovely friends and the gang?’

  ‘Fuck you, Dalton. Time to grow up, innit.’

  ‘What about that gun tattoo?’

  ‘She loves it. All chicks do.’

  I laugh and squeeze his shoulder as we walk.

  ‘Who was the bird outside staring at you, the one up the duff?’ he asks.

  ‘A girl I know from the prison.’

  Wyatt laughs.

  ‘You old dog, Dalton. Don’t worry, I owe you, so I won’t say anything.’

  I stop walking.

  ‘Wyatt, this needs to stay between you and me.’

  ‘Swear down, homie.’

  ‘I may have got a bit too close to her, but now she’s threatening me, saying she’ll tell them I did things that I didn’t. Even if she’s lying, I’d lose my job.’

  ‘Ah, gotcha. She’s tapping you up for cash. Is it your baby?’

  ‘God, no.’

  ‘Cool. Then it’s easy. You can’t stand for any of that bullshit, she’ll never quit. Meet her somewhere dark and strike back, hard. Tell her next time, she’s a dead ’un.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, great idea. She’s pregnant.’

  ‘Fuck pregnant. That ain’t for you to worry about. She’s extorting you, that’s on her.’

  ‘I should just pay her one last time and say that’s the end of it.’

  ‘Bruv, they don’t stop. Nip it in the bud. I tell you, give her a quick jab, so she knows you’re serious. Then forget about it. She ain’t going to the cops.’

  It hasn’t taken Wyatt, or Colt, long to slip back into his street identity. I only see pain ahead for Elizabeth. I remember the big lad that was waiting at the end of my road.

  ‘Did you know that lad in the leather jacket she was with?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s Bumpy. Used to be one of my crew, but he was too mental, even for me. He pounded the steroids in prison and since he got out. He’s tripping now. Owes me money, though. Mugged me off when I asked. I’ve been too busy with Elizabeth to catch up with him. She says if I go back to jail, it’s over, so I ignored him. But I can’t let Bumpy owe me. All I’ve got is my rep.’

  ‘Is he violent?’

  ‘Shit, man. Very. Anyway, the girl. Arrange to hook up tomorrow night. Somewhere out of sight where you won’t be disturbed. Don’t mention me, but I’ll come with. She’ll bring Bumpy for protection, but they won’t know I’m gonna be there. I’ll lay it on him, and you can lay it on her.’

  I don’t know what to say. He’s right, though, about part of it at least. She’ll never stop. Wyatt’s left jail, but he remains a prisoner to his reputation.

  ‘Okay, I’ll see if she wants to meet tomorrow night at eight. There’s that wood under the parkway near the Gordon Arms pub. There are no lights nearby. I’ll let her think I’ve got the money.’

  ‘Sweet. I’ll come here at seven-fifty. Give me a buzz if plans change. Remember, Dalton, you’re in the jungle now with the rest of us. You eat or get eaten. You live, or you die.’

  80

  I ring Billie from the garden while the others have dessert and ask her to meet me at the wood tomorrow at eight. She quickly agrees and hangs up. Wyatt and Liz leave soon after. Abi listens to music while she tidies. I tell her I’m knackered and will turn in myself after putting the kids to bed. That will give me time to consider what I’m going to do. Tilly is almost asleep on her feet and gets into bed on her own while I deal with Ivan.

  ‘Hurry up with my story, Daddy, or I’ll be snoozing,’ she shouts from her room.

  ‘Don’t go yet, Daddy. I’ve had a lovel
y day,’ says Ivan, as I stand to leave him.

  His hand comes out of the cover and holds mine as I sit back on the edge of the bed. His speech and tantrums have made significant progress in the last few months. He’s still a little different from the other children, but that’s fine. I love him the way he is, which makes me angry at myself for the things I did. When I check on Tilly, she’s fast asleep. I have so much at stake.

  Looks like another night of no sleep. Relying on Wyatt to get me out of this mess doesn’t seem sensible, but what else can I do? I can’t go to the police, and if I call Billie’s bluff, my life could implode. She’s sure to tell Abi. She might even get that Bumpy to take me out. It’s unbelievable. All those years in the prison and I was never really scared. But now I’m terrified and in desperate trouble, and I brought it all on myself.

  The night is long and restless. I understand the women in jail are often victims before they are villains. But Billie’s behaviour is criminal and there are no excuses. She knows exactly what she’s doing. I judged her and Kitty’s street robbery to be an opportunistic crime through necessity. Who’s to say they didn’t plan it? In fact, I might have guessed that Kitty was the driving force, but all bets are on Billie now.

  Lavinia wasn’t an idiot. When she named them, she was simply describing them. Those three girls are broken, damaged and ruined. Is Billie a monster, beyond redemption? If so, what does that make me?

  After rolling around for hours, I get up and revisit the kids’ rooms. I even stand next to Abi in our room and think of everything we’ve been through. She has a part-time job now at the dry-cleaner’s and the kids are settled at school. We’re finally building a deposit for a house of our own. Yet, Billie could blow it all apart.

  It’s my weekend off and we’ve been keeping Saturdays as family time since Abi came home, although she works in the morning now. What I hate most about this whole situation is the lies. I’m forced to lie and lie. The web of deceit gets heavier and more complicated. Surely, it will soon collapse.

  Eventually I give up trying to sleep, and watch TV until everyone wakes up. Just before eight in the morning, Abi sweeps around the house kissing us.

  ‘Bye, bye, bye.’ She laughs. ‘Looking forward to movie and pizza night later.’

  I see her out. She has a spring in her step as she walks down the road. Her new role is only fifteen hours a week, but it’s an escape from being a mum. In the future, she wants to go back full-time somewhere, or train to do something in teaching, maybe even art. I’ve been so focussed on my career and job that I didn’t notice our children have deprived her of both. I close the door and look at my watch. The future starts tomorrow, when all this is done.

  Ivan is having one of his spiky box days, as Tilly calls them. It’s as if he’s surrounded by a force field and you can’t get anywhere near him. By eleven o’clock, he still hasn’t said or eaten anything.

  ‘Come on, guys, let’s go to see the ducks. They’ll be flying away soon to somewhere warmer.’

  I read online that ducks like lettuce, and to use it instead of bread. We have some old iceberg lettuce, so I grab that and we set off. It’s the kind of day I hate. Mild, but not a pinch of blue sky anywhere. Just a steady sheet of grey and the occasional drop of rain, which does nothing to disperse the close feeling. We head hand-in-hand towards the underpass, with me thinking it’s not even midday yet, so it should be safe enough.

  We’re through it and heading up the concealed slope when three lads come around the corner. One wears a big leather coat and has white hair. It’s bloody Bumpy. They stop in a line and glance at each other. I feel the children’s hands tighten in mine. I look behind me, but my options are limited with two kids in tow. The three boys, and that’s all they are, stride towards us.

  ‘We forgot to bring any money out with us, and we’re thirsty,’ says Bumpy.

  I’m not sure how to play this. I’m not even certain I could take him on one-on-one. He has the thick, heavy-set build of someone whose punches will be sledgehammer blows. The other two are thin and weedy, but they all have the dehumanised expression that only marijuana or spice can produce. I take deep breaths without appearing to do so.

  ‘I have nothing on me. We’re just out for a walk.’

  ‘Still got a phone, haven’t you?’

  ‘Not with me.’

  ‘Bullshit, who comes out without their mobile? Maybe this will help your memory.’

  He reaches behind him and pulls out the scariest-looking blade I have ever seen. It’s like a weapon from a martial arts film. He points the tip straight at my face, but his eyes clear slightly as he peers at me.

  ‘I know you?’

  Bumpy saw me in uniform. That’s all people see. I regularly walk past ex-prisoners in normal clothes when I’m in town and don’t get recognised.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. Let us go, please, my children are scared.’

  ‘They should be scared. Phone and money, now!’

  Ivan has seized my leg with an iron grip. Tilly is quietly crying and has grabbed my arm with both hands.

  ‘Come on, Daddy, let’s go,’ she whispers.

  She tries to drag me backwards, but it’s not easy to walk with Ivan attached to me. Bumpy moves the knife point in a tight circle. His eyes have emptied of any emotion.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ says the taller of the other two lads. ‘Come on, dude. The kids are roaring. Let’s chip off.’

  ‘No, I ain’t leaving without something.’

  I hear screeches behind me. It’s two young men on mountain bikes. Bumpy still has his knife out in front of him. He moves the tip, so it’s directed at the new arrivals. The cyclists look at each other, then one of them gets his phone out and points it at the action. Bumpy and friends are too caned for rapid thinking. Eventually, Bumpy realises the implications of having his picture taken.

  ‘Get that phone,’ he shouts.

  The three of them chase after the cyclists, but they’re ready. They flip their bikes around and race off. I pick up Ivan,

  ‘Run, Tilly, as fast as you can.’

  Tilly’s no runner, but she tries hard. Protecting your family gives you extra strength. I grab Ivan, pump my legs while holding him in front of me, and we are rapidly away from the scene. We do a wide circle, but soon have to walk. I put Ivan down, but he refuses to let go, so I give him a piggyback as we skirt around through the posh area next to our estate. The shopping centre is quiet. I check my bank balance to see if my wages are in, but they aren’t. I have eighty-one pounds left. Then we quickly run across the busy road, not keen on taking another underpass.

  The children are subdued when we get back to the house. I set Ivan up in the lounge with Danger Mouse and a bag of crisps. Then I start tidying up. Tilly follows me the whole time without saying anything. Finally, she tugs on my shirt.

  ‘Daddy, who were those people?’

  ‘They were kids, messing around.’

  ‘I was really scared, and I want to live somewhere else.’

  ‘Me, too, baby. It’s okay, they’ve gone now.’

  I hug her back, knowing it’s more lies.

  81

  Abi returns from work with two frozen pizzas for tonight. We go for a drive to Ferry Meadows and walk around the lake. Abi mentions the kids are quiet, but I don’t give her the complete story. Tilly tends to talk to Abi about things that have bothered her during the day at bedtime, so it will definitely come up. She knows not to go down that underpass. It’s further proof that I need to get my family out of here to a more peaceful place. That is my focus but it’s a tough mountain to climb with house prices going up faster than I can save.

  The children perk up with an ice cream, but the first real flame of anger ignites in my head. I’m sick of people taking the piss. This world is tough enough as it is without people taking advantage of others. It makes me want to hit back. I never used to be able to understand the violent crimes that the men had been sent down for. But I’m learning. Wyatt’s world is
ruled by the strong and the ruthless. It’s my fault that I’ve become immersed in it.

  Later, I put the pizzas in the oven. I struggle to force a single slice down, with my mind on the excuse I need for popping out. My stomach is focussed on tonight.

  ‘I fancy a couple of cans, Abi. I’m going to nip to the shop in a bit. Do you want anything?’

  ‘Get me a big pack of Walker’s cheese and onion and I’ll pinch one of your beers. Is that why you’ve been quiet?’

  ‘You got it. One-track mind.’

  ‘Can I have some beer?’ asks Tilly.

  ‘Me, too,’ says Ivan.

  ‘Looks like it’s beers all round.’ Abi smiles.

  I walk upstairs, dreading what’s about to come. How nice would a few cold drinks be, slumped with the kids in front of Saturday night TV?

  Wyatt is outside as promised, which is a relief. I pick up on his focus and try to draw on some of his strength. It’s funny how people have a prison persona. He’s back to acting like Colt.

  And it’s not just the inmates who change. The officers are different inside, like Tex, or others who become caricatures of their normal selves. I suspect at least Braddock’s mum calls him by his first name.

  Behind those walls, I’m Officer Dalton, a man worthy of respect. But out here, I’m just Jim the dad and husband, with two young kids, a wobbly marriage, who’s pushing forty with a lot to lose. A person who has been backed into a corner as Rose-Marie and so many others have been in the past. And that’s when poor choices are made. Choices that can be life-altering, but right now I’m just tired and want it to be over.

  Colt and I stride out of Malborne, through the village, and turn right on Oundle Road. The cloud cover and intermittent showers make for a dark night, but the wind has picked up and the drops have more venom. Occasionally, the moon peeks into view and adds an eerie glow to everything it touches.