Читать книгу Deceit: A gripping, gritty crime thriller that will have you hooked - Kerry Barnes - Страница 10

Kara looked around the room. It was soulless, with just the one table, four chairs, and a recording machine for company. She cupped her hands around the hot tea, hoping it would control the shakes. Was it the cold or shock? She didn’t care, either way; all she felt was a deep head-banging numbness.

The chief superintendent marched into the room, with files under her arm, and sat pertly on the chair. Stony-faced and with eyes that were open but glazed over, Kara slowly peered up to see the middle-aged woman, with cold, spiteful eyes and wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, probably from too many cigarettes. With lank, lifeless, and short hair, with a few stands of grey, the policewoman was hardly a looker in the feminine stakes.

Cynthia Lipton, the chief superintendent at Bromley Police Station had been called on to interview the woman because the victim, Jenny Langley, was in the hospital on a life-support machine, and if she died, which was probable, then the person now in custody was looking at an accidental manslaughter charge with arson, which would carry a hefty sentence.

She sharply placed the folder on the table and clicked her pen. Then, having given the young woman the once-over, she concluded fairly quickly from her pale-as-the-moon complexion that Kara Bannon was in shock. This was going to be either like pulling teeth or watching paint dry. She introduced herself and quickly ran through the formalities.

She nodded to the young smartly dressed duty solicitor. ‘Well, are we ready to take a statement?’ she snapped.

Paul Reeves was fresh out of law school and ready to take over at his father’s law firm. Lipton knew he was green around the ears and assumed he would be overly eager to get stuck in. However, she was taken aback when he replied, ‘She wants to give a statement and is not interested in being represented, so I’ll sit in, but to be frank, she’s all yours.’

It wasn’t like him. Lipton frowned. Usually, he was a pain in the arse, meticulous at putting her sort in their place.

‘So, for the recording, please tell me your name, age, and occupation.’

Kara reeled off: ‘Kara Bannon. Twenty-six. Epidemiologist.’

Lipton glanced at Reeves with a questioning expression.

‘It means she studies diseases, how they originate, and how they affect the population,’ responded Reeves, smugly. He loved it when he got one over the police.

Kara remained focused on a tiny spider crawling up the wall just above Lipton’s head. ‘Actually, I am a tropical epidemiologist. I study rare diseases of a class four nature that appear in Third World countries.’

Her well-spoken accent and precise tones stirred unease in Lipton because Kara appeared to be in a trance, yet she was able to answer clearly and precisely. ‘Okay, Miss Bannon, tell me what happened.’

‘I took two cans of petrol from the garage, doused the whole house, and then I set it alight.’

Now, Lipton had to ascertain whether or not Miss Bannon did it alone and whether it was an act of revenge.

‘Miss Bannon, was anyone with you? Were you made to do this? I need to know why you did it?’

Lowering her gaze, she replied, ‘No one told me to do it. I had to burn the house down. I couldn’t let Justin and his new girlfriend move in. It was my home too.’

That was it. Lipton had a reason to charge the young woman with criminal damage, an arson attack, and a possible death by recklessness. She called in the custody sergeant who formerly charged Kara. Still in a stupor, she asked innocently, ‘Is Justin here yet to take me home?’

As the detective looked down at Kara, she realised then that the woman was unaware of the seriousness of what she’d done. Lipton’s mouth formed a smile, but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes. She wasn’t going to question her anymore; she had all she needed to charge and have the defendant remain in custody. As far as the chief superintendent was concerned, she had done her job – it was yet another notch on her arresting record.

* * *

The sergeant took Kara to a cell and placed a thick red blanket around her shoulders. Robert Wise, the custody sergeant, a big middle-aged man, with a salt-and-pepper-coloured moustache and grey hair, felt sorry for the woman. She wasn’t the normal scallywag who came and went. She had class and was polite. He organised another hot tea and a sandwich and brought them to her. ‘You will appear in court first thing tomorrow morning.’

With grief clouding her face, she took the drink and machine-wrapped sandwich.

Kara wondered if there was anyone out there who even cared that she was locked in a police cell. She had no family except Justin and his mother. Her own mother lived abroad now, and their only real communication was the odd phone call. ‘Is it all right for me to go home now?’

Wise gave her a regretful sigh. ‘No, Miss Bannon, I’m afraid you will be held until the court appearance tomorrow, and there, they will decide if they will let you out on bail, but I wouldn’t bank on it. This is a very serious charge over your head … Look, eat that, and try to get some rest.’

As the heavy metal door banged shut and she heard the rattle of keys, the silent cold truth slapped her in the face. This was it now. She was all alone. Not only had she lost her job, she also had to accept her relationship with Justin was over, and now her liberty was at an end. Everything had been destroyed in a single, petulant, and hostile act of revenge. She could not even begin to imagine what her future looked like.

Her hands trembled so much that she dropped the plastic cup, spilling some of the hot tea on her legs. The liquid quickly made its way through her thin tracksuit and burned her shins. She winced and curled herself into a foetal position, holding her knees close to her chest. She tried to sleep, as it was the only way to relieve herself of her haunting thoughts.

* * *

The next day, the door was opened, and the sergeant studied the frail-looking woman curled up like a baby. His heart went out to her. His own daughter wasn’t much older than this young lady. ‘Miss Bannon, do you need the ladies’ room? Are you hungry?’

Kara uncurled herself, temporarily released from the solitude and heavy weight of her sadness. With red-rimmed eyes hosting pools of deep sorrow, she shook her head.

They wasted no time in bundling her into the police van and hurrying her off to the courts. As soon as she arrived, she was sick, and this time there was no warning. Luckily, she missed her clothes but made a mess on the floor. The officer handcuffed to her was almost sick himself and tutted loudly, demonstrating how disgusted he was.

She was then led into the witness box, but she was barely able to comprehend what the judge was saying. The courtroom itself was daunting enough, let alone being there with no one she knew. Urged on by the duty solicitor to answer the questions, she obliged, and within minutes, she was taken away back to the holding room.

It all happened so fast that Kara was not really aware of her surroundings. The only person she hoped to see was Justin – but he wasn’t there. After spending the whole day in the holding cell, she was finally hustled into a sweatbox, as prisoners and prison staff called it, and was off to meet her new home for the foreseeable future.

* * *

Justin sat at the small dining table. Staring down at the spaghetti bolognese his girlfriend had made, he struggled to let the fork pass his lips. He was shocked to the core and his mind was a stifled mix of emotions.

‘Justin, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay. The house was insured, right?’

Her voice was a little higher-pitched than Kara’s, and at times it was quite shrill. He glanced up and smiled awkwardly. ‘Yes, but …’

‘Oh, come on, Justin, once we get the insurance money, we can have the house rebuilt in no time and just how we want it. It will be perfect for our new baby.’

‘It’s not the house … it’s Kara I’m concerned about.’

Lucy’s eyes, carefully defined by heavy make-up, narrowed. Her lips tightened and pursed, but she reluctantly remained controlled. ‘Darling, people break up all the time, but they don’t go burning down a house and practically killing the neighbour. That poor woman will be lucky if she is able to ever walk or talk again … I mean, who does that? Jeez, I think you were lucky to get out when you did, because, sweetheart, sooner or later, her madness would have surfaced, and God knows what may have happened to you.’

Justin made a sad attempt at a smile, but underneath, he was racked with guilt. ‘I feel bad for her.’

Lucy flared her nostrils this time, unable to contain herself. ‘Look, listen to me: you need to put your energy into thinking about our baby, instead of worrying about some nutjob!’

Justin was in over his head. Lucy wasn’t anything like Kara and he had no idea why he’d shagged her. In fact, he couldn’t remember it at all. Two months ago, he was out with a group of friends from the workshop, Dave’s stag do. They did drink far too many shots and he recalled Lucy chatting him up, and if he was honest, he enjoyed the attention. Kara had been away for two months in Papua New Guinea on one of her expeditions, and he was lonely.

Then, he remembered nothing except calling for a cab the very next morning from Lucy’s flat. He’d felt guilty at the time but still decided not to come clean; after all, Kara would never know. How could she? They never went to that particular pub together.

When Kara returned home for a week, he spent every waking hour with her. He even took time off from work himself because he knew she would shortly return to Papua New Guinea for another month. He missed her so much when she was away. The house seemed so empty; he would wander from room to room, lost in his thoughts, his mind on Kara. It wasn’t as if when she was at home they talked all the time; often, she would just be there studying, but the fact that she was at arm’s length and he could plant a kiss just above her glasses or share a bath and even hold her tightly in bed was enough for him to feel contented.

However, this Papua New Guinea trip seemed to go on forever, and the week they had shared together, she wasn’t quite herself; at the time, he’d put it down to jet lag and overwork. Yet, she had seemed oddly cold, even snappy, as if she was under a lot of pressure from work. He didn’t push her, deciding it would be better if he left her alone.

The boredom, mixed with missing her, foolishly led him to soak up the attention from Lucy. He spent more time in the pub and in her company, and the incentive to do so was there. She was very flirtatious and the compliments she paid him boosted his ego, although he couldn’t blame Kara for any loss of self-esteem he felt. Far from it, yet Lucy was making him feel very special indeed, and as a man, he lapped it up, until once more Justin found himself drunk and in Lucy’s company.

Again, he couldn’t remember anything until he woke up in her bed the next morning. When Kara was home for good, he pushed the incidents out of his head. Kara’s mood swings and tetchiness continued and once again he assumed it was work. After a short while, Kara returned to her usual self and things were back to normal but then the unthinkable happened – fast. Lucy called him one night in floods of tears. Shocked that she even had his number, he managed to calm her down and agreed to meet up in the park across from where he worked. That was when she dropped the bombshell that hit him like a concrete post.

Justin was brought up never to shirk his responsibilities. It was bred into him, being raised by a mother and no father in sight. He could still hear his mother’s words: ‘You made your bed, now you must lie in it.’ But it wasn’t just his mother who had that opinion – he did too. All his life he had wished for a father and vowed if he had a child he would never abandon it.

Lucy removed his untouched plate and toddled off like a moving Barbie doll towards the kitchen. Justin followed her with his eyes and sighed deeply. It was all too fast and like a mad dream; sitting in the dining area with Lucy playing happy families was surreal. She was acting as if they had been together for years, and yet he was torn. On the one hand, he loved Kara, but on the other, he was faced with the cold reality that Lucy was having his baby.

He knew why he had liked Lucy initially: because although she was very different in personality, she was similar in appearance to Kara. It was not the overdone make-up or her hair, or the neat thin nose, but those amber eyes. He fell in love with Kara because of those hypnotic flecks and swirls like tiger stone. She was aloof at times with her head in a book and her oversized glasses perched on the end of her nose. But he loved the way she was so natural, with her blonde hair pulled up in a scruffy bun, and he was attracted by the way she could look highly desirable, even in just a loose tracksuit. Her beauty was innate, and if she did get dressed up in a tight sexy dress with a sprinkling of make-up, then she looked stunning and turned heads.

What he loved the most about her was that she never knew how beautiful she actually was. Despite her intelligence, she had a sweet naivety about her.

He watched as Lucy, in her high heels and skintight catsuit, came walking back with a confidence that emanated self-importance. She waved a bottle of wine and two glasses. ‘Here you go, sweetie, I bought us a special pressie.’

‘Lucy, firstly, I’m not in the mood. My house has just burned to the ground and Kara is in some prison somewhere. That’s probably down to us. Secondly, since you are pregnant, you cannot drink.’

‘Oh, don’t be like that, darling. I thought it might take your mind off all the drama.’

Justin rolled his eyes and left the room. He was drained and needed to sleep and hoped things would be clearer in the morning. He stared for a while at the plain white sheets and the grey walls – there was nothing warm or inviting here – and then he looked at his bags. They were still packed, apart from the bare essentials. Maybe he was too hesitant to really put his feet under Lucy’s table. He had no choice now, though. His home, their home, was totally destroyed. He just needed to be alone to think things over.

As he lay with his arms under his head, staring up at the ceiling, he thought about Kara and wondered how she would ever cope in prison. She wasn’t made for any such place. She was his delicate princess, his soul mate, and he’d let her down very badly. That said, she wasn’t born with a silver spoon in her mouth – far from it. Not that Kara spoke much of her past.

Her mother, who wasn’t rich by any means, brought her up in a cottage down in Kent; however, she managed to pay for Kara to go to a posh boarding school. Kara hadn’t been exposed to the real world. He gritted his teeth, when he thought of how she would never survive if anyone hit her. She hadn’t had a physical fight in her life, and he’d never seen her be rude to anyone. She didn’t like confrontation. True, she’d certainly put up a fight to keep him when he’d delivered his bombshell, but the fact was he’d committed the act and he didn’t blame her for defending her own corner, even though her intense anger was a shock and that expression on her face haunted him.

* * *

The first thing that hit Kara was the smell; it could be best described as sweat mixed with a school canteen odour. With the overpainted metal doors and polished concrete floor enhancing the harshness, Kara longed for her warm bed and to be wrapped in a blanket, safe and secure. She realised then that peace and tranquillity, words that had been so important to her, were now just words.

Every noise now had an almost frightening meaning to it. Every unexplained bang was making her jump, the rattling chains were setting her teeth on edge, and the periodic sound from the entry buzzer left her ears vibrating. The speed at which she was pushed from one section to another, expecting to take everything in, was alarming. She wasn’t slow either, yet the list of dos and don’ts, times and places, all seemed to merge into one big blur.

The interview, the prison officers, and the stark coldness of it all was a world so far removed from her own that Kara could never imagine getting used to it. She was led through locked door after locked door, with her arms out holding prison issues, a plastic cup, and basic toiletries. The clothes they gave her to wear after the horrid strip search were too big, yet she wasn’t in a position to complain. The fierce glare on the officers’ faces was enough to imply she was fucked if she argued. Her head was spinning, feverish with fear.

Eventually, she was escorted down a long corridor with heavy doors on either side and was stopped at a door partially open. ‘In ya go, Bannon!’ ordered Anna Larson, the burly female officer. Kara shuddered at the small space and tiny cold-looking bed. ‘Meet Colette Connor.’

The inmate, who was lying on the opposite bed propped up by pillows, deliberately sized Kara up. ‘Aw, for fuck’s sake, no one told me I was gonna ’ave a cellmate!’

Colette Connor was a heavyset woman with a fat face. Her menacing sneer was enough to shit the life out of Kara. Instantly, she stepped back, treading on the officer’s toes and was roughly prodded on the shoulder. ‘Move, Bannon! And you, Connor, can shut it. She’s in with you, so be fucking nice and no nonsense.’

A faint smile lurked in the corners of the officer’s broad mouth. Her narrowed eyes and her cropped hair emphasised the spiteful appearance. She chuckled, as she slammed the door shut.

Kara was still trembling when she placed the prison issues on the bed. The reality of her predicament was creeping into her bones, inch by inch. This was no university campus set-up where everyone could share a joke, relax, and have fun. This was a whole different ballgame. She gingerly sat down and tried to give the inmate a warm smile. It wasn’t reciprocated. Instead, she received a stony glare that gave Kara the shits.

‘Oh, my name’s Kara Bannon. It’s nice to meet you.’ As soon as the words left her mouth, she realised how ridiculous they sounded. And to make matters worse, Colette repeated them in an over-the-top posh voice, trying to intimidate her.

‘So, Posh, what ya in for, then?’ asked Colette, with her cocky head tilted to the side.

‘Well, I, er … arson, I think, and oh, yes, reckless bodily harm or something. I’m not quite sure.’

Colette, or Cole as Kara soon found she was commonly known, looked Kara up and down. ‘Who did ya hurt?’

‘My neighbour.’

‘Why? Did she fuck ya ol’ man?’

Colette was getting excited. She was bored, and this young woman might have something interesting to make the daily grind of prison life actually bearable for once. Colette loved aggro. It was in her DNA. Not only did she want to hear all the gory details, she needed to size up this Kara bitch. For all she knew, she could be a raving nutter, sharing her cell.

‘I don’t know. I, er … I mean, I can’t remember exactly what happened.’

Colette frowned and thought it best to back off. If this posh bird couldn’t remember what she’d done, then she didn’t want to be the one who suffered from a red-mist moment at the hands of a fucking psycho.

‘Right, Posh, lights are out in twenty minutes, so you’d better sort ya shit out and no fucking snoring. I ’ate noise, when I’m trying ta sleep. The last bird cried all night, and I swear to God, I gave her something to cry about, so no blubbering, right?’

Kara took a few deep breaths as if she was trying to stop herself from being sick. ‘I don’t snore, and I won’t cry, but I might be sick. I have a virus I picked up from abroad.’

Colette noticed the girl’s face looked almost grey. She pointed to the toilet tucked in the corner. ‘Use that, and I swear, if ya fucking puke anywhere near me, I’ll make sure you fucking eat my next shit.’

Kara’s lower lip trembled. The tension was so hostile and downright scary. Suddenly, the light went out and she had to feel her way around the cell. Running her hands along the bed and to the small partitioned wall, she finally found the place she wanted. Kneeling beside the chrome toilet, she hoped beyond hope that she wouldn’t be sick anywhere near her cellmate.

For over an hour, Kara gripped the basin, with nothing but the tremendous feeling of guilt for company. She just couldn’t get Mrs Langley off her mind; it was eating away at her. Silently, she prayed for the poor woman’s full recovery. The nausea was relentless, so she sat on the hard floor with her chin resting on the stinking toilet bowl until she felt her head nod as she began to drift off to sleep.

The sickly feeling at last receded, so she crept onto her hard bed and entered the world of darkness. In no time at all, a loud sound pulled her from her nightmares. Doors were opening, and the small room lit up. Colette was rolling a cigarette, her fat tongue sliding along the sides of the rolling paper before she stuck it together. She didn’t look at Kara but just jumped up and left, with the cigarette in her mouth.

Kara sat upright, trying to get her bearings; everything was still surreal. The night before when she was in reception, the officers were reeling off so much information, she couldn’t take it all in. It was something about breakfast, showers, jobs, and times.

A few minutes later, in the doorway, a tall woman with wild black hair, grinning from ear-to-ear, was showing a neat row of gold teeth. Kara couldn’t work out if she was black or white. Her features were African, but her skin was milky, and her eyes were green. Kara was uncomfortable because the woman’s gaze was anything but welcoming.

‘Cole tells me ya burned ya house down, fucked up the neighbour, ’cos she fucked ya ol’ man.’ She had her hands on the doorframe and was gently swinging in and out of the cell.

A bead of sweat trickled down Kara’s back and her face flushed. She recognised that feeling. The sickness was coming up, and this time she couldn’t hold it. Ignoring the tall woman, she leaped from the bed and hurled her stomach contents down the toilet. As she pulled away, she noticed how disgusting the toilet actually was and then remembered she’d been leaning on it for some time during the night. With that thought in mind, she heaved again. There was nothing left to bring up.

With wobbly legs, she tried to stand up and had to grip the wall. As she turned, she saw the small sink and leaned heavily, bowing her head and catching her breath. She turned on the taps and ran her hot face under the flowing water, whilst slurping mouthfuls of the cold liquid. She spat twice and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Falling back onto her bed, she glanced up at the woman in the doorway. The ordeal had no doubt made her own eyes bloodshot and evil-looking.

Kara took a deep breath. ‘What did you say?’ she tried to sound friendly, but her voice was hoarse and her expression demonic. The woman stopped swaying on the doorframe and stepped back, as if unsure what to make of Kara.

At that moment, the inmate was shoved away from the entrance to the cell and in her place stood a square-shouldered, tall, and heavily built screw, as they called them. Kara should have been relieved. Weren’t they the good guys?

‘Bannon, you’re supposed to be back at reception!’ the screw growled, her voice deep and husky. ‘Get up and follow me.’ Kara naively expected the officer to be less harsh and less manly. It was the big tits that gave her sex away. Dressed in the prison sweats, Kara dragged herself up, still shaking, and stepped forward. The screw huffed, ‘Jesus, woman, what’s the fucking matter with ya? Get a wriggle on. I ain’t got all day!’

Kara gulped back a breath, hoping she could get enough oxygen to her brain to stay upright and walk on. Outside the cell, she noticed prisoners bustling from one place to another, all on some kind of mission. She tried to keep her head down, too afraid of making eye contact with anyone. This was so far detached from anything else she’d ever experienced, that it was hard to stomach. Even her first day at boarding school wasn’t this intimidating. The banging and clanking of keys and doors was a stark call of reality to the situation.

As the officer marched ahead, Kara noticed the inmates looked away. The officer was the one who called the shots – that was a given. As they approached the end of the landing, an inmate, who was standing in the doorway of her cell, swiftly stepped out and unexpectedly pinched Kara’s arse and whistled. A fear crushed her, and she could feel the tears welling up.

No, this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. How would she ever survive? She wasn’t gay, she wasn’t streetwise, and she certainly wasn’t hard. She felt the tear trickle down her face and quickly she wiped it away. The screw unlocked the end door and pushed her through, locking it behind her. They marched down the stairs and along another hallway, until, finally, they were in the reception area. Kara was too afraid to look at anyone, until she heard a man’s voice. ‘Kara Bannon?’

Slowly, she glanced up and nodded.

There, a tall, dark-haired, and smartly dressed man in his mid-forties, who reminded her of a younger Hugh Bonneville, smiled compassionately, giving Kara a feeling of hope. Please tell me I am going home?

‘You need to fill out this form. They forgot yesterday.’ He spun a piece of paper around on the desk and handed her a pen. The female officer stood by her side like a concrete statue. Kara looked at the form. It had two questions: name and next of kin. She scribbled her name, and on the line below, she wrote ‘no one’.

The male officer took the form from her, and then he raised his eyebrow. ‘You have no next of kin?’

Kara shook her head.

‘What, no parents, partner, brother, sister, or even aunts?’

Kara shook her head again. ‘No one,’ she whispered.

‘Okay, now it was a mad rush yesterday. It always is on the weekends. Have you been told the process, like how it works?’

Before Kara could answer, the screw jumped in. ‘Yep, Gov, she was given the full low-down—’ She was cut short.

‘Sandra, was I talking to you? Go back to the wing. I want to talk to Bannon alone.’

Sandra gave him a spiteful sneer and stomped away. Once the door was slammed shut, the man looked Kara up and down. She gathered he must be the governor or assistant governor. ‘A lot to take in, isn’t it?’

Kara raised her head and smiled nervously. ‘Yes, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, you see. It’s all new to me.’

‘Yes, I can see that … Look, Kara, I won’t pretend it’s a bed of roses in here because it isn’t. I suggest you keep your head down, don’t listen to the other inmates, and sign up for a job right away. Of course, you don’t have to because you’re only on remand, but it might be better if you do. You have fifteen pounds a week for the canteen, which means money to buy stamps, treats, tobacco, and phonecards. Your breakfast will be left in the cell and the lunchtime and dinnertime meals will be in the canteen.’ He chewed the inside of his mouth. ‘You can order books from the library.’ He probably guessed she liked reading, just by the way she spoke. ‘What was your job on the outside?’

Kara swallowed hard. Her job was her life, except for Justin, and both were gone now. ‘Epidemiologist,’ she replied.

‘Okay, Kara, well, mopping floors will be a drastic change.’ He was clearly trying to make a joke, but Kara was still in shock and riven with uncertainty.

She stared at his deep blue eyes and noticed they had a kind sentiment about them. ‘I don’t know how I should address you or anyone for that matter.’

‘My name is George, but you must call me Gov. You can’t really go wrong with calling all the staff Gov. The other girls do,’ he replied.

George had worked his way up through the system for twenty years and took no shit from anyone – the inmates or his fellow officers. He had only worked at Larkview Prison for a year, having been taken on by the number one governor. She wanted the prison cleaned up, and he was the man for the job.

In his time, he had seen hundreds of inmates come and go and some return time and time again, yet he had never come across an inmate like Kara Bannon. It was the sadness in her remarkable amber eyes that set her apart. She was sweet and naturally attractive. Her hair was fair and her skin flawless. He inwardly sighed. She wouldn’t look so fresh after a stint in here. The bright lively waves of hair that shone would no doubt grow dull and lifeless, and her dewy glow would diminish, along with her soul.

‘Right, I’ll organise a job for you in a few days’ time, but for now, you can get to know how things work on the wing. You can go to the canteen. That’s where you buy your essentials, if you need anything.’

Kara shook her head. ‘I don’t usually smoke or eat sweets and I have nobody to write to or call.’ She didn’t seem to be saying it for the sympathy vote. George felt for the girl because deep down, he knew she would get eaten alive. Her posh voice, her naive manner, and her good looks would do her no favours. He smiled and nodded towards the door. ‘Okay, I shall escort you back.’

* * *

On the surface, he seemed soft and kind, and yet Kara, with one exception, had never trusted anyone. She never had and for good reason. All except Justin; she had trusted him and look where that had ended up.

As they walked back to the wing, he went over the procedures again. This time, Kara took it all on board – she had to, if she was to survive in this hellhole. She would have been put on the new inmates’ course, a short introduction that gave them a run-down on how the prison operated, what to expect, and what they expected from her. However, the prison was very short-staffed and so the two-day course was wrapped up in two hours.

Back inside her cell, she noticed the box that was supposed to contain her breakfast. It was empty. That Cole woman had stolen it. Kara’s stomach was now rumbling, and she thought back to the last time she had eaten anything. She couldn’t remember, it was so long ago. She would have to keep up her strength. Colette was sitting smugly with her eyebrow raised as if to say, ‘Yeah, go on, Kara, say something.’

Kara hesitated, but then she made a stupid mistake. It was her biggest blunder and a real learning curve for her, accusing Colette of stealing her food. ‘That was my breakfast, I do believe.’ Her tone was soft, but there was an undercurrent of sarcasm. She never meant it to come out that way, but it did, and it was too late to take it back. Colette was off her bed in an instant. She spun around, and with a clenched fist, she punched Kara clean in the mouth. The thud was hard and knocked Kara against the wall. She tasted the blood and winced, just as another punch hit her. This time, she felt her head smack against cold concrete. It was as if the wind was knocked out of her. Colette stepped back with a cruel, beady look in her eye and dared Kara to fight back.

Colette’s fighting skills were gained from many a ruck inside. She had a reputation, and with her fast and furious blows, she would have an opponent on the deck in the blink of an eye. Some brave or stupid souls returned the violence, but the clued-up ones begged her to stop.

However, Kara was still in total shock. She had never been hit before and it wasn’t as she had anticipated. Her cheek hurt like a dull cramp and she was left with a sore tingling. But it was the unknown that was the problem. It was the prospect of further aggression that was frightening her and also not knowing the possible damage that would be inflicted on her.

Her fear when she entered the prison was the brutality, isolation, and inhumanity, along with deprivation. After she wiped the blood away with the back of her hand, she stared at Colette with a dull expression that didn’t match her thoughts. She was stunned and should have been terrified. Yet, for some odd reason, this initiation into prison life really wasn’t as bad as she had imagined. Deep inside her mind, she’d gained an ability to detach herself. Besides, the pain of losing everything was worse and perhaps the smack in the mouth was a wake-up call to snap her out of the daze she’d been living in.

Colette was watching the younger woman’s still countenance, gauging Kara’s next move. But there was no move: Kara just continued to gape at Colette with no life in her eyes. It was a poignant moment, which Colette, for all her bravado, was at a loss to explain. Normally, if she gave a bird a good hard lump, they would either try to defend themselves, or, more likely, they would crumble on the floor in a ball, begging for her to stop. Either way, it was a win-win.

She was a bully in every sense of the word. Her accounts of GBH and ABH were as long as her arm and ended up with her serving four years. Prison didn’t bother her in the least. In fact, she found it a doddle: three meals a day, a bed, and not having to think for herself – what was there not to like? She loved to be a plastic gangster, talking tough and exaggerating her crimes.

The truth was she lived with her elderly mother, fact; she was ugly and stupid, both incontrovertible facts; and she had nothing going for her. The only respect she got was from her ability to knock out grown men. Inside that hard-ass armoury, there was a sad, lonely woman longing to be loved by a man, to have a family, and to be cherished. Her father had run off when she was two and her mother was a shy, weak little woman who had no control over Colette at all. She was a victim of circumstances, and unfortunately, she knew it, which was why she was merciless inside the nick.

Kara’s eyes were bloodshot again and it gave her an almost fiendish look. She continued to stare, as if not really knowing what to do. Colette slumped her shoulders and sat heavily on the bed. She slid her hand under the mattress and retrieved a Snickers bar, her favourite treat from the canteen. ‘’Ere, if ya are so fucking hungry, ’ave this.’

Kara still didn’t move. She was intent on keeping her eye on Colette, in case she tried to bash her once again. She wiped her bloodied mouth for the third time and could feel the swelling of her bottom lip. It didn’t hurt at all. It was strange because she knew it probably looked bad. She ran her hand over her cheekbone to feel the lump protruding under her eye and again was astounded that the swelling was numb.

Colette watched her checking her wounds and waited for the backlash, but there was none. Kara sat herself down and shook her head. ‘I don’t eat chocolate. But, thank you, anyway.’ Her response was typically articulated, her Oxford accent clearly pronouncing each and every word.

Colette wasn’t sure if Kara was being sarcastic or that was just her normal way of speaking. ‘You don’t fucking accuse people of nicking ya gear ’cos you will get fucking hurt, right?’

Kara replied in a flat tone, ‘But it isn’t right. I was extremely hungry. I haven’t eaten for days.’

Colette wasn’t used to anyone speaking to her like that except for her schoolteachers, many years ago. Unbelievably, she felt like a child again.

Standing up and closing the cell door, she replied, ‘Listen, Posh, I ain’t got any beef with ya, and I s’pose it’s easier if we gel, ’cos I’m gonna ’ave ta put up wiv ya. So ’ere are the rules. Change the way ya speak, or you are gonna get a fucking good hiding. The birds in ’ere don’t take too kindly to you looking down ya hooter at ’em, and ya best learn to be on high alert, watch ya back, keep outta people’s business and …’

She paused and looked Kara over. ‘And, if ya do get in any trouble, you be sure ya come and find me. ’Cos, I have a reputation, see. Not many will fuck wiv me. I’m one ’ard bitch.’ She was showing off and wanted to be feared. For some reason, this waif of a woman was intimidating her. Perhaps it was her educated voice – Colette guessed she hadn’t gone to her local state school – or the woman’s weird expression when she was given a good thumping. Either way, she could be a force to be reckoned with, and Colette wasn’t taking any chances.

Kara gave Colette a gentle smile. Her fat lip and the lump on her cheek made Colette unexpectedly feel a twinge of guilt. The girl was very pretty, and she’d just messed up her face, and for what? It had just been to prove a point, end of. It was wrong on every level, and she knew it.

‘Thank you, Cole. I’ll try to speak like you, if it helps.’

Now, Colette felt even more guilty. Kara wasn’t like the others, that was for sure. She was sweet and innocent.

The door swung open, and in stepped the inmate who Kara had seen earlier, before the screw pushed her away. ‘All right, Cole, so what’s happening?’

The mystery woman looked Kara over, as if intrigued to know more about her. Earlier, Kara had felt a little uncomfortable to be alone with her.

Colette shuffled along the bed so her buddy could join them.

‘Her name’s Posh. She’s all right, Dora.’

Dora’s face changed and she gave a dirty grin. ‘Oh, yeah, it’s like that, is it?’ She winked at Kara, who, of course, had no idea what she meant.

Colette gave Dora a hard nudge. ‘Fuck off, Dora, it ain’t like that – she ain’t my type. You, of all people, should know that.’

Dora lowered her eyes and blushed.

Kara’s mind was whirring. Was Colette a lesbian and Dora her girlfriend? The image of an inmate coming on to her was worse than being violently attacked. Or perhaps it was much the same thing. She shuddered. She watched Dora run her hands down Colette’s leg and wondered if long-term prisoners who weren’t gay turned to each other for comfort. Assuming they wanted some privacy, Kara jumped to her feet and asked, ‘Where’s the library?’

Colette turned her head to the side. ‘What’s the matter wiv ya? Ain’t our company good enough for ya?’

In normal circumstances, Kara would have chosen her words more carefully, but this situation was hardly normal. And she wasn’t sure what saying the right thing would do for her credibility. There was no room here for decorum or polite niceties. No, she was going to have to play their game, and where she could, she would stay away from conflict. ‘Cole, I’m going to leave you two to have some private time. I think if we are sharing a cell, it’s only right that I let you have your space. It’s obvious what you two intend to do.’ She looked down at Dora’s hand.

Colette really laughed at that, and then she winked. ‘You can join in, if ya fancy a bit?’ She stood up and ran a finger along Kara’s uninjured cheek.

With her stomach now in knots, Kara instantly grabbed Colette’s wrist. ‘You can hit me, Cole, but don’t touch me.’ Surprised that those words had left her mouth, she swallowed hard and winced, awaiting the backlash. However, Colette didn’t see the fear behind those words. All she saw was a flash of fury, which took her by surprise.

‘So, I ain’t ya type, then, Posh? Not good enough for ya, eh?’ Her voice was climbing several levels, and Kara felt drained by being on edge all the time. She had to think quickly; backing Colette into a corner would not be clever. ‘Look, Cole, it’s apparent that Dora’ – she pointed to the angry-looking woman still sitting on the bed – ‘is your type, and you have a thing going. I wouldn’t like someone to take what’s mine, and my neighbour did just that, so do you understand where I’m coming from?’

Colette’s eyes flicked from left to right, trying to take in the message. It took a couple of seconds for her to process the intent behind Kara’s question before she dropped her guard and sat back down. Colette was not totally stupid, not by a long stretch. She realised that Kara had given her a way out, a face-saver. ‘I get ya, Posh, I get ya. You are the faithful type. So, did ya do the neighbour ’cos she was muscling in on ya ol’ man, then?’

Kara wondered if she could adopt an alter ego. She realised she would have to continue with the lie just to give herself some creds, if she was to survive. Telling lies wasn’t her thing, and yet being in the slammer certainly wasn’t either. ‘Yes, Cole, I burned the house down and tried to kill the bitch.’ She tried to sound cold and hard, but in her mind, she knew she probably sounded pathetic. Truthfully, even saying those words made her feel ill. Mrs Langley was a sweet woman who never deserved what happened, and worse, Kara was using the incident to save her own skin by coming across as hard and uncaring. Who the hell was she turning into? This wasn’t who she was.

However, Colette was uneasy because Kara wasn’t jumping about swearing and re-enacting the crime; there was a coldness to the woman’s tone and manner. Through long experience of prison and life, she wondered if Kara was really a nutter behind that angelic façade.

‘Was ya ol’ man a bit of a dish, then, was he?’ asked Dora, raising her eyebrows and licking her lips.

Gritting her teeth, Kara wanted to cry again. Of course, he was a dish; he was everything she ever wanted in a man, but he’d abandoned her, ripped her heart out, and left her in prison to rot.

‘He was a class-one bastard!’ she snapped.

‘All fucking men are bastards; it’s in their make-up. ’Orrible wankers, they are. Always after ya fanny or wanting their shitty pants washed. They’re no good to us women, let me tell ya. Me ol’ man ruined me muvver, then he fucked off, leaving her without a pot to piss in and me to bring up. I know how to treat men, though, just as they treat us. I use them for a free ride on their cock, get ’em to buy me a few bits and pieces, and then fuck ’em off.’ She looked Kara up and down and sighed. ‘I guess you ain’t learned the rules yet, ’ave ya? I suppose he sucked you in, got what he wanted, and then he spat ya out, moving on to the next unsuspecting bitch?’

Kara wanted to say, ‘No, it wasn’t like that at all. He loved me and never used me,’ but then, in this new environment, she would look a right idiot. ‘Oh, I knew the rules. It’s just a shame that my neighbour didn’t,’ she replied, with a smirk, even believing her own slander now. Nevertheless, it was easier than admitting the truth. It was her way of escaping the reality of the situation.

At once, the tension seemed to ease, and Dora, now looking more relaxed, giggled. ‘No flies on you, gal.’

Colette joined in and smiled. ‘I bet the bitch knows now, though, eh? With a face like Freddy Krueger, she won’t be messing with no woman’s man again. Who would want her now?’ She slapped her thigh and laughed even louder.

Kara was feeling nauseous. That poor woman. What if she really was scarred … and worse, what if she was dead? Kara resignedly sat on the bed, her legs weak and wobbly, and yet Dora and Colette took it as if she was joining in with them and having a laugh at the neighbour’s expense.

The inmates’ levity was cut short by the appearance of a large woman, with jet-black hair half up and half down and a deep jagged scar across her forehead, standing in the doorway. Kara smiled but was sneered at. The woman was in her late thirties, good-looking and yet hard-faced. She had on the prison issues, a green tracksuit, but her sleeves were rolled up showing her tattoos. ‘Cole, I want some gear!’

Kara watched the dynamics. Dora had her head down, and Colette jumped to her feet, flustered. ‘Er, Vic, I ’ave only got a bit of puff.’

Victoria Meadows, commonly known as Big Vic, was obviously someone with clout. She exuded confidence and her demeanour said, ‘Don’t fuck with me’. She was scratching her neck, and as Kara’s eyes followed her hand, she could see the raised swirls of red inflamed skin.

‘I need something now, Cole. You’d better call on everyone on the wing, or I’ll be smashing a few heads in.’ Her beady dark eyes glared at Colette, who was clearly shitting herself.

‘What do ya need, then, Vic?’

‘I need anything that’s gonna stop this fucking itching, something to knock me out, and I don’t care what it is, meth, brown stuff, or puff!’

Kara bravely stood up and stepped towards the woman.

Vic stepped back with her forehead creased. ‘What are you fucking looking at?’

‘The rash on your neck,’ replied Kara, totally unfazed by the woman’s harshness.

‘Go fuck yaself.’ She turned to face Colette. ‘Who’s this fucking numpty?’

Colette was still uneasy. ‘Er … that’s Posh. She’s in with me. Tried to kill the neighbour who was sniffing around her ol’ man. She burned the fucking house down.’

‘You got any gear, Posh, or are you just another waste of space?’

‘I don’t have any gear, but I can tell you what’s wrong with you.’

In a flash, Vic snatched Kara by the hair, bending her back. ‘You can tell me about meself, yeah? Ya cheeky fucking whore. I run this wing, so you’d better know ya fucking place, or I’ll show ya!’

Kara then realised what she’d said had been taken the wrong way. ‘No, I mean your neck. I know why it’s inflamed.’

Vic dropped her like a hot brick and glared at Colette and Dora. ‘Get out!’ she hollered. Instantly, the two women darted out of the cell. Vic then closed the door behind them and glared at Kara. ‘Oh yeah, some kinda doc, are ya?’

Kara looked at Vic unblinkingly and nodded. ‘Yes, sort of.’

As Vic sat down on the bed, Kara noticed the woman’s demeanour soften. ‘So ya know what this is?’ She lifted her baggy green tracksuit top revealing swirls of raised red circles covering her chest.

Leaning forward, Kara ran her finger over the inflammation. ‘Does that irritate you?’

Vic was like a patient in a surgery. ‘Yeah.’ Slowly, she rolled her top back down.

‘What did the doctor give you for it?’

‘That ol’ cunt said it was a heat rash. Four weeks I’ve had this, and it’s getting worse. The blind ol’ fucker, I could smash him round the ’ead. So, what is it?’

‘It’s a fungal skin infection.’

‘What!’ screeched Vic. ‘You better be joking! You mean, I have a fucking fungus growing on me skin?’

Kara knew it would make anyone feel ill, imagining a fungus growing over their body. ‘Yes, but don’t worry, it’s easily cured. I promise you, all you need is an antifungal cream. You know, like athlete’s foot or thrush?’

With wide eyes, Vic slowly nodded. ‘Yeah? So, that’s all I need, just that cream?’

With a compassionate smile, Kara replied, ‘Yes, that’s all you need, and within a couple of days, it will be gone. Try not to scratch it and keep it cool for now.’

‘Right, I’m going back to tell that idiot fucking doctor. I swear if he don’t give me that cream, I’ll smash the living shit out of him.’ She jumped up and went to walk away, but then she turned back. ‘Er, listen, this is between me and you, yeah?’

Kara nodded. ‘Of course. Oh, by the way, my name is Kara. Cole just calls me Posh.’

‘Yeah, well, you are posh. Everyone calls me Vic or Big Vic … Er … if ya need anything, give me a nod, yeah? But you’d better be right. I don’t take too kindly to being mugged off.’

With a warm smile, Kara nodded again. She had got the picture loud and clear. It was going to be a testing time. She had to prove her worth and use everything she had, if she was going to survive. She lowered her eyes and sighed. If she believed in God, she would pray that she hadn’t got the diagnosis wrong. Then the muscles in her jaw relaxed. If she had got it right, then perhaps she would have a friend on her side.

At that moment, Colette and Dora hurried back in. ‘So, what did she say?’ asked Colette, looking flushed.

‘Nothing much. It was personal, really.’

With a deep laugh, Colette went on, ‘Personal, there’s no such thing in ’ere. Anyway, no matter, whatever you said, ya got her off my back.’

Perhaps she was making headway at last for a peaceful life.