Prisoner

by Ross Greenwood

  As we approach the entrance to the wood, Wyatt pulls his hoodie up. He’s dressed all in black and appears older than his years. We step through a small opening in a fence and edge carefully along the path between the trees. The moon is out and we can see where we’re going, but as soon as it disappears behind the clouds only a few metres of the muddy track are visible ahead of me.

  We stand still for ten minutes, ears straining with the rustling sounds around us. A gust of wind howls through the branches above and speckles us with water.

  ‘Screw this, Jimbo, they aren’t coming.’

  ‘Yeah, let’s go. I need a few beers.’

  We turn to head back the way we came when we hear distant cursing behind us. Someone’s approaching from the other side of the woods. I can see a bright light much further up the path, bobbing and weaving, then disappearing. The ground down here is treacherous when it’s wet and big holes quickly fill with water.

  Wyatt reaches inside his coat. He takes a handle out that doesn’t look dissimilar to the one that Tara used on Lavinia. This weapon, however, has a button, which Wyatt presses. A wicked three-inch blade flashes out. He presses the button again, and it vanishes.

  ‘Here, Jim. Have this. I’ll take care of Bumpy, but the girl is on you. Finish it now.’

  He steps off the trail and behind a tree as total darkness falls once more. The people approaching are much closer, and soon they stand in front of me. Billie looks tiny with Bumpy’s bulk behind her. He points the phone torch at the floor, which casts us all in strange shadows.

  ‘Did you bring it?’ she asks.

  ‘I told you, I don’t have that kind of money.’

  ‘That’s a shame, Dalton.’

  ‘I hoped you’d reconsider.’

  She seems so calm. How dare she mess with my life? Why do people think they can get away with this kind of thing? Do they simply assume that most people won’t resort to extreme violence, even when pushed? I unzip my coat.

  ‘What are we to do?’ she says.

  ‘I did bring you something.’

  A twig snaps next to me, causing Billie and I to flinch, whereas Bumpy lowers into a crouch. In the quiet, it sounded like the crack from a gun. Wyatt steps into view as though the forest has released a creature from the netherworld. Bumpy’s torch beam moves up Wyatt’s body to his shrouded face. Wyatt peels back his hood. The beam wobbles. Wyatt holds his own phone up and the weak light from the screen shows Bumpy frantically whispering to Billie.

  ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ says Wyatt.

  ‘I’ll get you your money, I have some now,’ gasps Bumpy.

  ‘It’s too late. That’s not going to repair my reputation.’

  The light disappears from Bumpy’s torch as he spins on his heels. Then we see it waving through the trees and bouncing around. We can hear him crashing through the undergrowth as he flees the scene. Billie steps out of the way as Wyatt scrambles after him. Billie and I study each other as the shouts disappear into the wood.

  I reach into my back pocket. Billie’s quick. I’ll give her that. The pain is equally rapid. I look down and see a small black handle sticking out of my left-hand side. My grip weakens and the four twenty-pound notes, which were the remaining balance of my current account, slip from my fingers.

  ‘Oh, Dalton. I’m sorry, I…’

  I try to talk, but only a wheeze comes out.

  ‘Bumpy told me you’d have a weapon and to use one first. I thought you’d gone for it.’

  ‘Ah!’ is all I can manage.

  She looks down at the knife handle. Her expression registers that her prints are on it.

  ‘Please, say you were mugged. You’ll never hear from me again. We’re even now.’

  She whips the small knife out, which blurs my vision with agony, almost causing me to faint. She puts it in the side pocket of her coat. After picking up my money, she grabs my left hand and holds it over the wound. She places her other hand against my cheek, then she’s gone.

  I’ve watched movies where people get shot or stabbed, then stagger and drag themselves for miles to safety. Until this evening, I imagined that was possible, but it isn’t. Not for me. My eyes begin to close.

  A cool breeze rustles the branches. It chills the sweat that covers my body, except for where the sticky warmth runs down my left hip and leg. My left hand rests on the hole in that side, but it lacks the strength to staunch the flow.

  Twenty metres away, through the treeline, occasional cars roar past. I blink back tears. Perhaps, there is still a chance. I manage to shuffle forwards through the damp leaves, gasping through gritted teeth. A sharp, intense spasm in my stomach forces me to arch my back and look skywards. Through the canopy overhead, the moonlight bathes me. I sense part of me drawing upwards, and my face relaxes.

  My weak legs give way, and I slump to my knees, then topple forward over a felled trunk at the side of the path, but any pain has left me now. As my vision blurs once more, there’s no rush of reminiscences or regrets. Instead, the faces of my children appear in my mind, memories from less than an hour ago. I told them that we would always be a family. Instead, I will die alone in the mud.

  And it’s no less than I deserve.

  82

  Nearly a year later

  My life has changed. That night gave me the motivation to escape from the trap that I was in. I lay there in the wet and cold, desperately trying to stay conscious, hoping Wyatt would return. He did, just as the ambulance’s sirens approached. Wyatt ran out to the road and brought them back, possibly saving my life in the process. I lost nearly five pints of blood. Luckily, the only organ damaged was my small intestine, which they stitched up in a four-hour operation. Wyatt disappeared because the paramedics rang for the police.

  They questioned me afterwards. I told them I’d heard something strange in the woods as I walked past. When I went to investigate, a man pulled a knife on me. It was too dark for me to see his face. They asked if I’d seen anyone else as a woman had rung 999 for an ambulance but not left her details. I said that Wyatt had heard my cries for help, but I didn’t know his name.

  Abi believed my story and was heroic in her response. She kept things ticking over and made me realise how lucky I am. Sometimes, adversity reminds you of what you have.

  I had three months off work. It was heaven. When I returned, I’d been gone from the prison environment too long. I had softened and found the constant aggravation too personal. A few weeks later, I finished my shift and knew I was done. My sentence was over. I slid my keys and radio down the chute that evening, then threw in my ID card and my tie for good measure. I rang in the next morning and said I’d simply had enough. They were fine and thanked me for my time. As you can imagine, that sort of thing happens a lot.

  I’m now a team manager at IKEA. The money’s the same, the stress is different, and no one’s died yet. But this story isn’t a fairy tale.

  Wyatt didn’t catch up with Bumpy that night, but he swore he would. I told Wyatt I was worried that Bumpy might realise he could blackmail me about what I did with Billie, even if she didn’t want to any more. Wyatt said he’d sort it, and I didn’t tell him not to.

  Wyatt’s good behaviour was short-lived. Around the same time as I was starting at IKEA, Wyatt was starting a one-year stretch for assaulting a policeman. Despite what she said, Elizabeth visits him. Must be that tattoo.

  Abi also went to see him. He gave her a cryptic message to pass on to me: No more bumps in the road. Sure enough, the next week’s local paper had an article on the overdose of a Stephen ‘Bumpy’ Frisk in HMP Feltham. He was a big lad, with white hair, who was serving a two-stretch for street robbery in an Orton Malborne underpass. The post-mortem showed the presence of a toxic combination of many drugs, no doubt procured from different people. I suppose you could call it a team effort. Bumpy’s body was found covered in bruises, which were unexplained.

  As for the other guys? Sheraton moved to the male side shortly after I left. He didn�
�t last long and now works as an estate agent. The rumours were that Peabody broke immediately under questioning and confessed to an inappropriate relationship with Billie, which didn’t progress to sex. The fact he asked for a transfer away from the wing after the incident with Gronkowski helped save his hide and they let him resign. He works for the same company as Sheraton and they live together. I bet they wake up with a smile, as I do, safe in the knowledge that their jobs are no longer life and death.

  I bumped into MacStravick in The College Arms in town. He told me that the police at a holiday compound in Portugal received reports of a pervert near the pool. They arrested a man who was found with a telescope in his campervan. His mobile phone contained thousands of images of young women in bikinis. Myerscough had a massive heart attack while he was being questioned. Upon hearing the details of his demise, his ex-wife revealed she had left him years before due to his obsession with young women.

  I heard the prison attempted to contact the girls who worked with him in the gardens to see if there was any inappropriate behaviour, but nobody wanted to get involved. Despite what Billie thought, at this point in time, none of the chickens have been offered counselling. Myerscough’s post-mortem revealed significant heart disease. Stress might have been a factor.

  Fats remains in jail. He’s engaged to Braddock’s sister, Emily, and they’re planning a quiet wedding. Lena went on that date with the man from her new office. The guy turned out to be the owner of the company. She moved into his house a few months ago when Emily moved in with Fats.

  Apparently, Odom and Nasima were dating each other all that time. The guy in the photo frame was Odom’s best mate at school, who died in Afghanistan. Nasima was that man’s sister. Nasima and Odom are both managers in the prison now.

  Braddock and Tex still walk the landings. You could say they are the beating heart of the place. Perhaps, one day, they will find each other.

  Lennox left the prison service to join the police. Occasionally, I catch her racing around in a first response vehicle. She looks the business and always waves.

  Gary and I are close. His back prevents him from doing much, but he reads more and involves himself in the world when possible. He insists he’s now a better husband. We both laugh when he says that.

  At odd times, I wonder what happened to the girls. I’ll never forget them. The only one I know of is Red. She was found dead in a squat with a syringe in her hand. She never saw her boys again, and she also didn’t see her twentieth birthday.

  Abi, the kids and I are moving house today. Her father’s cancer wouldn’t be thwarted, but he left us the money for a deposit and then some. The removal van is arriving at ten this morning. Abi is insisting that our place is scrubbed clean despite us leaving and I’ve learned not to argue about those sorts of things. I tell her I’m going to get a bottle of bubbly for when we’re moved in tonight.

  It’s a glorious day at the end of autumn. I step out of the front door and glance up at a vast turquoise sky where huge, billowing, pure-white clouds stretch as far as the eye can see. It’s time to say goodbye to this area and its memories. I walk down the path to the underpass where Bumpy liked to operate his business. The council has painted it again, but it’s still a foreboding place.

  I reach the wood and wander through. It’s been dry for weeks, and, in the sunshine, it’s peaceful. I stop where I almost died. Billie thought I was about to stab her, but I’d pushed Wyatt’s hand away when he’d offered me the weapon.

  Before I started on the female side, I couldn’t understand why officers could be corrupt, or how normal people might hit out, or even kill, but life is rarely straight forward. Events have a way of sweeping you along. Sometimes all you can do is look back.

  At the shop, I find a bottle of Prosecco that hopefully won’t remove the enamel from our teeth and I join the queue. There’s a girl at the front with a pram. She looks classy and poised in tight black jeans and a short red leather jacket, but then drops her purse and wobbles on high heels as she retrieves it. She scoops her hair behind her ear as she rises. I’m tempted to shout out, but I don’t.

  I watch her leave and think of that thunderstorm.

  After paying, I step outside and pull my shades down in the bright sunlight. Billie is sitting on the wall, pushing her pram back and forwards. My heart betrays me as it speeds up.

  ‘Hey,’ she says.

  I stand in front of her, but don’t feel any malice. All those events seem so far away, and it’s good to see her. I raise my sunglasses.

  ‘Hey,’ I reply.

  We stare into each other’s eyes for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable.

  ‘Thanks for ringing for the ambulance,’ I eventually say.

  ‘Thanks for not telling the police I stabbed you.’

  ‘Does that make us quits?’

  ‘Completely.’

  I should walk away, but I want to hear about the others, and I hope that Billie’s okay.

  ‘Is Birdies open yet?’

  ‘No, but it will be. Tara got the go-ahead two months back. She found a place in Whittlesey. We’re moving there and living together. It’s a start and it’ll be good to leave Peterborough behind. Kitty and her are there at the moment, cleaning and painting. My shared house for new mums is just behind the Botolph, over there. I have one more week left. Junior, here, started crying, so I went for a walk to get him to go to sleep, but he’s wide awake now.’

  I smile at her. She’s calmer.

  ‘I stopped for some water,’ she continues. ‘Get this, though. Kitty has a boyfriend, and she’s passed her driving test. She’s so different.’

  ‘That’s great news. I’m pleased for you all. And good for Kitty. How about Tara, is she dating?’

  ‘No, she has no interest. Maybe one day, but I doubt it.’

  They’re such complicated women. The simple, terrible truth is that Tara killed someone. Dress it up how you like, but only a certain kind of person drives a sharp object into someone’s neck without any immediate provocation. It’s murder. Perhaps she always carried a knife with the intention of using one. Tara is a bright girl. I guess she knows what she’s capable of. Therefore, I suspect she’s decided to only ever be with people she trusts or awful things are likely to happen.

  If Abi is the victim in all this, then Tara is the tragedy. And I really liked her.

  Billie clicks her fingers in my face.

  ‘Earth to Dalton. I’m still looking, though.’

  She beams at me and my body tingles in response. It seems what’s broken can be fixed, while others can be ruined forever. The truth is we all get damaged as we go through life. Perhaps the answer is to keep trying and focus on not repeating your mistakes. It looks as if Billie has learned that lesson.

  ‘We talk about you a lot,’ she says.

  ‘Really, why?’

  ‘Tara says that people like us don’t have many strong male role models in our lives. I reckon she means that most of the men we know are wankers.’

  It’s hard to disagree with that. I’ve been carrying what I did with me like a cloud full of rain. Some days, it’s heavier than others, and I don’t think I can hold it in. Surely, I’m not someone to be admired or even respected. Working on that YO wing has rocked the foundations of what kind of man I believed I was. I hope that I will learn to cope with what I’ve done and become a better person. We all deserve a second chance.

  I crouch next to the buggy. The baby has the same deep-blue eyes as Billie.

  ‘What did you call him?’

  ‘I named him after his dad.’

  ‘Sandringham is a bit of a mouthful.’

  Billie’s eyes crinkle and she laughs. The baby turns his head towards me and I stare at the dimple on his cheek. Billie crouches besides me and whispers what I already know.

  ‘His name is Dalton.’

  83

  I shoot upright. Billie stops laughing, but she has an amused air.

  ‘You said you were on the pill, and that
you were due on.’

  ‘I would have thought you’d know I can’t be trusted by now.’

  ‘Jesus, Billie. Why?’

  She stares down the road for a few moments, then shrugs.

  ‘Do you know what? I’m not entirely sure why, but when I was with you, I felt as if I belonged. That I was worth something. Do you understand? I was where I was supposed to be. I feel like that now when I’m with the baby.’

  ‘Oh, Billie.’

  ‘I think you and me shared a perfect moment.’

  ‘Did you share one with Sandringham and Peabody?’

  ‘Ooh! No need to get snotty. I didn’t have sex with them, just fooled around. It was a bit of fun, and I knew they’d bring me things. I liked the control I had over them and it made me feel good. But you were different. It was like I was under a spell.’

  ‘Sandringham killed himself.’

  ‘I know. I only realised after I’d left the nick that I was partly to blame.’

  ‘You also said I was a middle-aged loser who works in a prison.’

  She grins. ‘I have poor taste. Come on! I was just trying to hurt you because you hurt me. I’m damaged, remember?’

  Despite her brutal take on life, I can’t help a small smile sneaking onto my face.

  ‘I’m sorry, Billie. I should have known better.’

  She stands up.

  ‘Don’t be stupid. I’m as much at fault as you are.’

  ‘I should have been looking out for you, not sleeping with you.’

  ‘Yes, and I lied because I wanted you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I still can’t.’

  There’s a pause while we look at each other.

  ‘And what do you want now?’ I quietly ask.

  ‘Nothing. I have enough. Go back to your family. I know what happens when families fall apart, so I would never break up yours. I’ll be fine. I don’t need your money any more. I have friends and a job. We can even live above the salon. I finally feel like I belong in this crazy world. The anger and desperation I felt has left me, and I’ll always have a part of you.’