Bang Up: Prison walls don't just keep criminals in, the keep the outside world at bay (27 page)

Mark played with the food on his plate and rolled a few peas around on the end of his fork. “Nothing, I’m just tired that’s all. I’ve had a crap day, too. I swear, once I get the chance of something better I’m moving on. This job is killing me.” 

Tracy had heard all this before. Every day he told her about some inmate who was doing his head in. He’d had many a sleepless night about them as well. The prisoners just pecked away at his head twenty-four hours a day. It was always an endless battle to get up each morning for work and lately he hated every minute he was working in the prison service. Rolling his sleeve up slightly, Mark checked his watch casually. “I’ve got to nip to Smithy’s soon love. He wants to borrow my squash racket.” 

Tracy sniggered and held the bottom of her stomach. “Well, you may as well give it to him. I mean, when was the last time you did a bit of exercise? I wasn’t going to mention it but you are piling the pounds on lately. Especially around the waistline.” 

Mark gulped his glass of water back and shot a look over at her. What a cheeky cow she was. He’d never said what he thought about her weight gain over the years and here she was slating him in his own home regarding a bit of extra blubber, his ‘winter warmer’ as he liked to call it. Mark blushed and patted his stomach with a flat palm and tried to make a joke out of it. He was raging inside but kept his cards close to his chest. He raised his eyebrows and casually flicked a comment over to her. This would teach her to belittle him and make him feel worthless. “Yep, it happens to the best of us love. I think we both need to go on a diet. Your cheeks look like they’re storing nuts for winter.” 

This was below the belt and he loved watching her face drop. Her expression changed and she clenched her teeth together tightly. “What do you mean both of us, you cheeky get? I’ve lost over two pounds this week, I’ll have you know. You don’t see me munching biscuit after biscuit do you? At least I bleeding try.” 

Mark smirked. He was clever like that, he could bring her down a peg or two whenever she got above her station. Tracy had a face like a smacked arse and you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. She didn’t say a word, she just sat snarling over at him. He’d done it now, he was in her bad books. Pushing her plate away from her, Tracy folded her arms tightly and her nostrils flared. She was fuming. How dare this bastard insult her like this? She’d seen her arse. “I’m going to bed early tonight and don’t be waking me up when you get back in either. You can sleep on the sofa for all I care.” 

There it was, she just couldn’t help herself. This was the usual sort of stuff that always followed any argument - the sex ban. The ‘you can kiss my arse’ moment. Mark whistled about the room and he knew he’d rattled her cage. “If you can’t take it, don’t give it,” he mumbled under his breath so she couldn’t hear him. “No worries love, I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. I might even pop in the boozer if you’re planning an early night and have a few scoops with the lads.” Mark was on a roll, what a result he had - a free pass to go and chill with the local lads down at the pub. She said herself she was tired, so there was no way she could come back at him with any moaning about spending quality time with her. Bending down slightly, he pecked his warm lips on the side of her cheek. She was like an ice maiden, she never flinched. “Night love, sleep tight,” he shouted over his shoulder as he left. 

The front door banged shut and shook the house. Tracy was alone. “Fuck off, you smarmy bastard,” she cursed as she booted the chair from under the table. Tracy pulled her top up and stared at her muffin top, examining every inch of it, grabbing the lard. Her husband was such an arsehole and he’d put her on a complete downer now for the rest of the night. How dare he bring up her weight gain! What a bastard he was, he knew exactly what he’d done. She picked her fork up and carried on eating the food left on the side of her plate, comfort eating. 

Mark stood in the darkness waiting for the last parcel to be delivered. He would never do this again. The last bit of money from the drop was going in the bank. He would never get

himself in this state again. It was all stopping. The stress was killing him. A silver car pulled up at the side of him and turned its lights off, the engine just ticking over slightly. This was a quiet street and very few cars ever drove up it. There were a few lovers every now and then but they were always parked up away from prying eyes, out of sight not wanting to be disturbed. Mark had had a couple of nights here too; a drunken fling with the barmaid from the Fat Ox. Fuck buddies they were, always there for each other when times were hard, no questions asked, just pure filthy sex. Mark scoured the area before he stepped out from his hideout. His breathing was noisier than usual. He rushed toward the waiting vehicle and once he was at the side of it he opened the car door with shaking hands. This looked shady as fuck. Anyone who was watching this scene would have put two and two together and worked out what was going on. It wasn’t rocket science. The man in the driver’s seat was wearing a dark cap and the peak was pulled right over the top of his eyes. His body dipped into his seat. Mark sat on the passenger side as he handed over the goods. It wasn’t that big really, but it was bound tightly together with clingfilm. Drugs, miniature phones, steroids, it was all there inside the bundle. 

“You got the cash?” Mark asked, he never looked the guy directly in the eye. There was rustling, coughing and the sound of cash being counted. 

The male’s voice was chilling and he put the fear of God in Mark. “There you go, you bent bastard. Make sure it lands too. But, remember,” he paused and went nose to nose with him, “if it doesn’t, I’ll find you. And you don’t want that to happen do you?” 

Mark’s heart was racing and he knew he was a sitting duck. He had to get out of there before things got out of hand. He counted the money quickly. It was all there, a done deal. The car door flung open and he jumped out, aware he could be stuck from behind. He never said goodbye, he just walked away at speed with his head dipped. That was a close call and he was made aware of how deep he was into all this now. The guy was right though, he was a bent bastard, bought for thirty pieces of silver, a dirty lying Judas. Mark’s nightmare was nearly over in his eyes after this parcel landed. There would be no more sucking up to that little prick Mikey Milne. Yes, this was over and he planned to get his life back on track as soon as this parcel was out of his hands. 

Marching down the street, he zipped his coat and turned his collar up to protect his neck from the bitter wind. He was gagging for a pint and maybe even a game of cards to help him chill out. His head was mashed. Sheila the barmaid was on her shift tonight, so if she was feeling a bit frisky later on, he could sling one up her before the night was over, a quick knee-trembler. Mark marched into the public house and ruffled his fingers through his hair. The wind had messed it up and he looked like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. There was lots of noise, laughter and banter between the punters. This was a man’s pub and few women were sat about, except for the usual bikes that everyone had ridden at one time or another. The card table here was well known in the area and you had to be a fool or pissed out of your head if you ever sat around it. Men had lost everything in seconds here at the drop of a hat; cars, gold and life savings. Each and every one thought they had the hand to make a difference to their lives; the aces, the kings, the queens; but they never did. Sheila called it the devil’s table. There were so many fights caused by the card games and we’re not talking little scuffles here either. Punters had been stabbed, knocked out and even shot. Where there was money, there was always trouble and the Fat Ox was well known for it. The residents in the area had tried to have the pub closed down more than once. It was an eyesore and just caused youths to hang about near it. You could get whatever you wanted in this boozer. Knocked-off clobber, food, gold, drugs... There was always someone selling something right from the back of a wagon. 

Mark stood at the bar and smiled over at the brassy barmaid. She was a right dirty hussy and had no morals. She had big tits and bright red lipstick plastered all over her lips. Once she clocked Mark she pulled her top down lower and made sure he got an eyeful of her perky breasts. This guy was on a promise tonight and without even saying a word to her, he knew she was game. A right dirty cow she was; anytime, anywhere, she was there gagging for it. Mark waited for his pint then turned his body and leaned against the bar. There was some serious money going into the pot on the card table tonight and he could see by the players’ eyes this shit just got real. His eyes were wide open, eager to see who came out on top. The game was drawing him in, his eyes fixated on every card dealt. Patting the cash inside his jacket pocket he felt an adrenaline rush throughout his body. His palms were hot and sweaty and his heart was racing. What the hell was he doing, had he not learned from his mistakes? Mark swallowed hard and slurped a mouthful of his cold beer. Once a gambler, always a gambler he supposed. It was too late, there was no going back. His addiction took over. “Deal us in lads on the next round,” he chuckled. Mark rubbed his two flat palms together and pulled up a chair. It was going to be a long night. A very long night indeed.

*

Rachel kissed her mother goodbye and headed home. Agnes stood at the front door and watched her until she got to the end of the street before she went back inside. She always did this. No matter who came to her house she always walked them down the garden path. Rachel was aware that her stalker could be watching her. She would take no shortcuts tonight, she was staying where people could see her. With every step she took, her heart started pounding a little bit more inside her ribcage. If any fucker tried grabbing her, she had her front door key lodged in between her knuckles ready to gouge their eyes out. She was alert and aware of her surroundings. Rachel finally reached her garden path and it was fair to say she was relieved. A woman wasn’t safe at the best of times in this area so especially not at night. She knew how easily she could have been attacked from behind. There were always stories in the news about women being attacked, there were some sick twisted bastards out there who would think nothing of killing another human being, slitting their victim’s throats, raping and abusing them before they ended their lives.

Sliding the key into the front door she turned her head quickly, eyes wide open. There was heavy breathing, rustling. “What the fuck do you want!” she screamed as she nearly jumped out of her skin. 

“I’ve come back. I just needed to get away while all that shit was going on. I know I sold you out but my arse was flapping. You’re alright, Davo would have left you alone and given me a right good hiding.” 

Rachel punched her clenched fist into Gary’s chest, not just once, she pummelled it like her life depended on it. She was knocking ten bags of shit out of him. “Rachel, for fuck’s sake. I’m back now,” he protested, “come on, give me a break will you!” 

What kind of fool did he think she was? Did he really think he could have her over and she would just let it go? Not a fucking chance! This woman was livid and she was looking around the front garden now for a missile to launch at his big, daft, ugly head. “Get my son’s money back, you lowlife thieving twat. I knew you were low Gary but never in a million years did I think you would nick from me. How low can you go? You disgust me, you make my skin crawl you worthless wanker.” 

Gary was backed into a corner and his eyes were wide open. He stuttered as he held his hands over his head trying to protect himself. “What fucking money, I haven’t touched any.” 

Rachel growled and booted him right in his leg. “You lying, dirty cunt. I know it’s you who’s had it away. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Gary made sure he got her in a death grip and held her hands tightly behind her back. “Just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen up, yeah.” Rachel spat in his eye and she was nearly free. “I’ve not touched a penny of any money. Are you right in the head? Come on Rach. I love you and to think you would have me down as something like this knocks me sick.” 

Gary let go of her hands, she was still snapping. “Well, if you didn’t take it where the fuck did it go? Did the fucking money fairies nick it?” 

Gary held a blank expression and shrugged his shoulders. “Just let me come in and we can sort this out. Fuck me, I’m a lot of things but don’t ever put my name down for robbing from you.” 

Rachel pushed him away with her hands deep into his chest. She booted him again in his shin. “Go fuck yourself, over my dead body are you getting into this house. Go and get the money back and then we can talk, otherwise piss off and crawl back under the rock you just came from.” 

Gary hung his head as he marched from the garden. He was watching his back too, there was no way he trusted this lunatic. She was like that Rachel, she was a sniper. The minute his back was turned she would lamp him one, swing a killer blow. “I’ll let everybody know about you as well, Gary. Mark my words, your name will be shit around here. Nobody likes a shady cunt, a lowlife robbing bastard. Go on, piss off and don’t come back.” Rachel was stood at her garden gate, her hands gripping it tightly. Her shrieking tones could be heard by all the neighbours. You could see them peering out of the windows. Everybody loved to watch a bit of drama on the street and Rachel was giving them value for money. Gary was gone now and she hung over the garden gate gagging for breath. He was such a lying hard-faced fucker, did he really think she’d come over on the banana boat or what? He’d had the money alright. There were no two ways about it. What now though? She was fucked. How on earth was she ever going to get her son’s money back? She was up shit creek without a paddle. Something had to give, she had to get a break somewhere, surely? She turned slowly. This woman had been dragged through the mill, her heart was low and she couldn’t take anymore. Every time she took a step forward something always dragged her back down. Sad really, because she was trying to change, to right all the wrongs she’d done over the years. It was such a hard thing to do though. Everything was going tits up. Rachel opened the front door and once she got inside she stood looking around the hallway with dismay. This was it, her life in a nutshell. No man to love her anymore and her boy locked away in prison. As if from nowhere her eyes flooded with tears and she fell to the floor sobbing her heart out. “When’s it going to stop, ay, when is all this shit going to end! I can’t take it anymore. I just want it to stop!”