Bang Up: Prison walls don't just keep criminals in, the keep the outside world at bay (3 page)

Sarah stretched her neck out as she stood at the bus stop. Rachel was so selfish and she had no thought for the way she was feeling in her time of need. She could have done with a cuddle, a few wise words of advice to help her from sinking into a deep dark depression. Sarah was like that, she let things get on top of her and she was known to be dark and moody when something was on her mind. She controlled her emotions by talking about it, even though it might have only been to herself, she liked to analyse things until she came up with an answer for the way she was feeling. Loyalty was all she asked in life and if someone let her down, there were no second chances, nothing, she was gone. Sarah could see Rachel motoring towards her. She was checking over her shoulder as she crossed the busy road, the cars honking their horns at her. She rammed two fingers up at them and sneered over at the drivers. “Piss off and watch the road, you stupid bastards.” Rachel sniggered as she sat down inside the bus shelter. Her breathing was short as she quickly swiped the sweat from her forehead with the side of her hand. “I just can’t help myself can I? I’m on my arse so I needed a quick graft to put a bit of money in my pocket. I can get some gas and electric now.”

Sarah’s eyes were wide open, she was mortified. “What if you had got caught, don’t you ever think about going back to prison? You’re off your head you are! You’re just asking for trouble!”

Rachel licked the edge of her front teeth and replied. “Life’s life isn’t it. I have to keep my head above water. Money doesn’t grow on trees you know. We’re not all handed it on a plate like you are Miss Fancy Pants.” Sarah watched as she pulled out the jeans. Rachel checked nobody was watching and kept her voice low. “Here, stick them in your bag until we get home. I’ll get Gary to get on the estate to sell them. He’ll easily get a score each for them.”

Sarah was alert, her eyes were twitching. Was she now a criminal? She was handling stolen goods and if the police were to search her she would have been arrested for her part in the crime. No way was she being involved in this. Rachel could do her own dirty work. “Here, you can carry the bag then. I’m having nothing to do with it. My family would go ape if they knew I was even speaking to you, never mind being involved in any crime.”

Rachel growled at her and rolled her eyes. Sarah was a right smacked arse and if she’d have had her own way she would have got Mikey to cart her months ago. She was so prim and proper and she never really knew what it was like to struggle for anything in her life. She was a brat, fed with a silver spoon. Rachel bagged the stolen goods up and rested it on her lap. This daft bitch was doing her head in already and she would rather sit in silence than try and make conversation with her, she was winding her up, pressing her buttons.

*

Mikey watched the cell door like a hawk. He was aware the guards kept lifting the hatch up and looking at him through it. He could hear the sneaky bastards. They were wary of him and he knew it. Cupping his hands around the side of his mouth he shouted in a loud voice. “Brendan, can you hear me mate, which cell are you in?” Mikey held his ear to the wall and waited for a reply. There was no answer. He looked puzzled and sat back down on the floor. Was Brendan still here or had he been shipped out already? They usually moved inmates out of the holding cells about four o’clock, surely it was that time now. He had no sense of time and he was just hoping he didn’t have to stay here much longer, he was bored shitless. Where would they send him? Which jail was he going to? Mikey sat twisting his fingers, he was edgy and wanted to know where he would be spending the next five years. Well, it wasn’t really five years exactly, he’d only serve half of it but still it was a long time to be away from the outside world. Would things change that much in his absence? Would Sarah still be waiting for him on his release date or would she move on? His girlfriend was faithful, he knew that, but time changed people and love could be lost in the blink of an eye, a click of a finger. He’d seen it happen one hundred and one times before; guys in the nick threatening to end their lives, inmates smashing their pads up because a loved one was no longer waiting on the out for them. It was selfish of him to think she would wait, he had nothing really to offer her, only what he was standing up in. He couldn’t give her the big house and car she wanted, he could give her nothing but his love but was that enough? Only time would tell.

Standing to his feet, he walked over to the door and hammered on it with his fist, booting it for good measure. “Oi boss, what time’s tea? I’m starving in here. Any chance of a curry before I go on my travels?” Mikey smirked to himself and chuckled as he carried on yelling from behind his door. His tone changed and he was playing with them now. “Come on lads, give me a break, ay. Sort us some scran out before I go. I’m wasting away here. You know prison food is crap. Just give me a decent meal before I land in the chokey.” There was still no reply. Mikey started to sing at the top of his lungs, hoping to get some response. “When you’re chewing on life’s grizzle, don’t worry give a whistle,” he took a deep breath and pelted out the chorus. “And, always look on the bright side of life,” he was whistling and pacing his cell, dancing, wiggling his arse. Mikey froze as the cell door swung open. The guards stood warily, waiting to see if he was going to give them a hard time. They’d dealt with his sort many times before and they were ready to use as much force as necessary to get this convict out of here. Mikey licked his bottom lip and smirked at them. He stood with his back to the wall. “Evening ladies, any chance of a bite to eat. I have rights you know.”

One guard stood with his hand resting on the doorframe. He sneered over at Mikey and he was ready to kick the living daylights out of him if he needed to. His jaw moved rapidly as he chewed on his gum. “You’re going to Lancaster Farms, lad. The baby jail.”

Mikey nodded slowly and casually flicked the invisible dust from the top of his shoulder. “Standard pal. I’ve been to worse places. When am I going? Is Brendan allocated there too?”

The security guard was in no mood for chit-chat. This cocky kid was doing his head in and he wanted him gone as soon as possible. It was Friday night and he wanted an early finish. To have a few pints with his mates down the boozer. He locked eyes with Mikey. “It doesn’t matter where anyone else is going so don’t concern yourself, nosey bollocks. You’re going there and that’s all you need to know.” The man looked over his shoulder at his work colleagues and nodded. He had this under control. The other men were ready to go into the cell. One wrong move and Mikey was getting dealt with. This was how it worked behind closed doors and nobody knew the half of it. Some serious attacks had happened inside these walls but when the reports were filled out the guards stuck together, never once did they snitch on their workmates. It was the circle of trust, nobody grassed.

Mikey flicked his eyes about the room. He was the underdog and knew he would never win when they were team handed. His expression changed and he was co-operating for once. “So, am I going now or what? No point in waiting about is there ladies?” This youth was full of himself and he was getting right under their skin. He knew what he was doing and he loved winding them up. Mikey walked towards the door and stood tall, a bounce in his step. He never flinched. Each officer was alert and aware he could strike at any minute, he couldn’t be trusted. He left the cell and didn’t look back at them once.

The white Group Four van had eight doors inside it and behind each door was a small window. This vehicle was used to transfer prisoners to jails all around the country. Some of the most notorious criminals in the United Kingdom had sat in these vans; murderers, rapists, kiddy fiddlers. Mikey had been inside one of these before and he knew the crack. As he stepped inside he shouted out in a loud voice. “Brendan, are you on the bus mate?”

Mikey smiled as he heard a reply. “Yeah, I’m going to the farms, where you going?”

“I’m going there too, see you when we land. Don’t worry about fuck all I’ll look after you. It’s going to be a doddle.”

Before he could finish his sentence he was pushed inside a door. Turning his head quickly he met the eyes of another officer who thought he was top dog. “Enjoy the trip mate.” Mikey just sat down on the seat and rammed two fingers into the air over at him. “Don’t you worry about me you faggot, just you worry about who’s stuck up your wife while you’re out working.” It was game set and match - Mikey had won the argument. The security guard was trying to come back with something but Mikey started to sing and ignored him. The door slammed shut and Mikey was alone with his thoughts.

Mikey imagined some of the landmarks around Manchester disappearing one by one through the small window. It was going to be a long time before he ever set foot on those streets again. Dropping his head into his hands the reality of his life for the next few years kicked in. He was sobbing, tears rolling down his cheeks. No one must hear him though, nobody could see he was weak. Mikey rested his head on the wall to the left of him. The rain hammered against the van and he sat listening to it as if it was calming him down. He loved listening to the rain. Ever since being a small child he remembered how peaceful it made him feel. He loved being tucked up in his warm bed at night watching each droplet of rain run down his window pane.

Most nights he would lie there never knowing if his mother was going to return home. He didn’t know if she was safe or if she’d been beaten within an inch of her life again. Rachel had received some bad beatings over the years. She’d been admitted into hospital several times and had stitches, concussion and broken bones. Trouble just followed her. Mikey spent most of his youth being shipped about to different relatives and anyone who would give him a bed for the night. He never really had a place to call home and from an early age he had to fend for himself. His father Dennis had only been in his life until he was five years old. He was a criminal too and he was forever in and out of jail. God only knows what for but Rachel had always said he was a bad penny and deserved to be locked up for good. Mikey would never have a bad word said against his father though. He loved him no matter what and on the night he left after yet another heated argument with his mother, he’d come into his son’s bedroom and lay stroking his head with a flat palm. “Son, I can’t do it anymore. She’s driving me insane. I’ll end up killing her if I stay. She’s saying bad things about me that aren’t true, honest, don’t listen to her. Don’t end up like me son. I’m fucked in the head. You’re so bright and have a great future in front of you. Make me proud son, just do something with your life and don’t end up a washed up worthless fucker like me.” Mikey would remember those words for the rest of his life, they were all he had left to remind him of his old man. He’d not seen the guy for years and didn’t have a clue where he was living. Word was that he was doing another stretch in jail but he didn’t know if that was true or just gossip.

Deep down he knew he’d let his dad down, he’d never once made him proud. All of his life so far had been nothing but trouble. He’d been expelled from school when he was thirteen and left school barely able to read or write. It never bothered him, he thought he knew it all. Common sense was all he needed to get by in life, or so he thought. He was a know-it-all, nobody could ever make him see sense when he had a bee in his bonnet. He had a lot to learn and it looked like he was going to learn it the hard way. Somebody needed to give him a shake, a slap around the head, something to make him see that crime didn’t pay.

Rachel was the one who’d got him grafting in the first place. It was shocking really, she had no shame. It was her need to score, her greed for the drugs that controlled her body that made her the way she was. Rachel started using heroin when she was first in jail. At the start it was just a few toots to calm her down, to get her through the hard times. She never thought that it would become her master and take over her life like it had. Those were dark days. Well, that’s what she called them now whenever she spoke about them. Those were the times when she’d sold her body to feed her habit, times when she’d sucked dirty old men off to stop her rattling for drugs. Rachel had been clean for over three years. She was on a methadone script and her need to go out to commit crime had reduced dramatically. She’d never be fully clean from the drug though, it had a grip on her and wasn’t for letting go. Even to this day she still had the occasional urge to feel the buzz from the drug that ruined her inside and out. That feeling would never truly disappear.

Mikey looked after Rachel as soon as he was old enough. He’d seen her on her hands and knees crying for drugs, begging him to help her. This was something no child should ever see. He had to look after her, she had nobody else. All her family had deserted her years earlier. Could you blame them? She’d robbed them and shamed them, what did she expect? There was only so much they could take. Mikey started out in his criminal career just doing a few easy grafts to earn some money, stuff his mother had put him on to. Cars with SAT navigators inside them, vans with boxes and valuables left on the seats. Yes, Rachel was eager for her son to learn the tricks of the trade from an early age. She showed him how to survive. If nothing else, his mother gave him the ways and means to make money and put food on the table any way he could.

CHAPTER THREE

Mark Fulton was at the dining table flicking through the newspaper. He was studying the horses and he was thinking of having a flutter. The names of the horses he fancied were circled in black biro. Tips of the day he liked to tell people, it was a load of shit really, none of them ever won a race, donkeys they were. The radio was on quietly in the background and he was only half-listening to the local news. It was the same old shit, just a different day. The crime rate in the area was soaring and he shook his head slightly as he listened to the news about a vicious attack on a local shopkeeper. Two thirteen year-old kids had kicked the fuck out of a sixty-two year-old man and left him half dead. They took one hundred pounds out of his till and snatched a few packets of cigarettes. Apparently, the youths were high on drugs and could only apologise for their behaviour. They wanted a good kicking, someone should have smacked their arse until it bled. A bit of old-fashioned parenting was what was missing here; a few clouts around their ear hole every now and then to keep them in line was what was missing. Kids were too cheeky these days and they had no respect for anybody, not even their parents. Mark hated crime and detested how the youth of today thought they knew it all. He flicked the pages over and sipped at his coffee.