The Good Life (20 page)

Freddie had briefly lived with a girl, and they had a little daughter who he adored, but within months he had known her mother was not for him. Andrea was pretty, bubbly, he supposed, and she had a body like a porn star. Unfortunately, an original thought in her head would die of fucking loneliness − she was basically as thick as shit. Unfortunate turn of phrase, but apt in her case. She could chatter for hours and still not have a real opinion on anything and it had driven him to distraction. His three-year-old daughter could have a better conversation and, as much as it had hurt Andrea when he left, he knew there was no way they could ever be together for any length of time.

He was ambitious and he knew
this
was the type of person he needed − a calmer, self-assured woman who would not be intimidated by him, who would hold her own if he challenged her beliefs. For the first time in years, he was excited about being in a female’s company, and it was even better because that woman was his first love. All he wanted to do was kiss her, strip off her clothes and make love to her. But he was a sensible man who recognised she needed to be handled with care. He had to wait until the right time presented itself.

Coming back to earth, he suddenly realised what she was saying, and he interrupted loudly, ‘Sorry, Jenny, can you repeat that, mate?’

Jenny laughed. ‘I said, I’m getting married in one week! I’m marrying my Cain at long last.’

He tried to plaster a smile on his face, even though he could have cried. ‘Kept that a bit secret, haven’t you?’

She shrugged. ‘I didn’t want a big fuss. It’s just a matter of getting it legal, you know?’

He nodded sagely, while stifling the urge to scream with frustration.

‘What with his ex-wife still causing trouble, you know? We thought it would be best to keep it low key. Not rub her face in it.’

He didn’t know how, but he was still smiling at her. Then he said boisterously, ‘Caroline Moran causing trouble, who’d have thought it?’

Jenny laughed with him. ‘She’s a fucking nightmare, honestly!’

‘Well, it’s been a long time coming, Jenny, and you deserve some happiness.’

‘Thanks, Freddie, that means a lot.’

‘Cain still has a big lump ahead of him, though, I mean, are you sure you’re doing the right thing, mate? You’re still a young woman.’

She smiled at him, appreciating that he was concerned for her. ‘I know what I’m doing, Freddie. He is the only man for me. Has been since I met him when I was sixteen!’

She launched into the story and, as she told him about her first run-in with Cain Moran, all Freddie could think was,
what a fucking waste of a life
.

But he smiled anyway, because he didn’t know what else to do as she told him how much she loved her husband-to-be.

A young con named Stevie Harper was closeted with James in his cell. It was time for James to put his plans in motion, and he had recruited Stevie to help him. He was negotiating with James about getting him a blade that would be delivered to the gym the next afternoon. It wouldn’t be a problem getting it back on the wing because he had a cousin who would take care of that end too − for a hefty price.

James Banks had decided he needed a decent blade and not a shiv because he had to take Cain down in one; if the man got up he would be up shit street. He would never underestimate a Face who had got as far in life as Cain Moran.

Stevie was happy enough to be the provider; he knew that no one would hold it against him however it might turn out. He had a living to earn like everyone else. Personally, his money was on Cain Moran − you would need a fucking seriously early start to get the better of him. On the other hand, young James Banks was a determined soldier, and you never knew what might go down in these kinds of cases. The book was already open, of course; the older men and a few of the younger ones were laying money on Cain, but no one was writing James off, so that was a compliment to him in a way. It would be a bit of excitement at least and that alone was something in this place.

‘When you going to do it, James?’

Stevie was genuinely interested, and James believed he wasn’t trying to find anything out for reasons detrimental to him, as they were already good mates.

He shrugged. ‘I need to have a good think, you know, Steve? I don’t want to fuck it up, like. In the next few days, though.’

Stevie nodded sagely. ‘Well, I wouldn’t leave it too long either. He’ll know you’re tooled up. It’s the way of this place. He’s been fair, I think. I mean, he has access to basically anything he wants, especially in the kitchen. You were right not to use a knife from the unit − that could cause untold aggro especially if that’s the reason the kitchens close. You would really make a few enemies then, believe me. The cooking of food has become the prime fucking interest in this place!’

They laughed together.

‘I ain’t a cunt. I want Cain Moran, but I don’t want to take on all-comers!’

Stevie grinned, before saying seriously, ‘I admire you, James, and I don’t want to tell you what to do, mate, but the general consensus is you would be better off trying to resolve this without violence. No disrespect, but your old man wasn’t what could be called popular. You know what I mean?’

James nodded in agreement. ‘That’s it though, Stevie − whatever he was, he was still my old man. Laughing about my mum and all, that’s fucking out of order. I know she was a bit of a girl, but she’s still my mother. She’s stood by me through thick and thin. No matter what I’ve done she’s been there for me, without question.’

Stevie smiled. ‘Enough said. You will have your tool tomorrow.’

They shook hands and left it at that.

Cain Moran was lying on his bunk wide awake. It was late and most of the other lags would already be dreaming of their own particular heaven. He got up quietly and, pulling out his bunk, he took off the mattress cover and felt inside until he found what he was looking for. He had owned this for over seven years and he had kept it in the sure knowledge that one day he would have to use it. Now it seemed was the time.

He weighed it in his hand − it was heavy and it was dangerous. It was a real boning knife, the kind used by fishermen. It was honed to perfection, and it would easily slice up anything from a rampaging elephant to a human being, such as young James. He was sorry he was going to have to use it, but the options were either strike the first blow or defend himself. Cain still wasn’t sure what it was going to be.

He placed the knife back in its hiding place and remade his bed. Lying down again, he debated whether to kill the kid once and for all, or whether to just maim him enough to keep him away for the duration. He was leaning towards the latter option, but his sensible head was telling him if he was going to do this he had to do it right − finish it and send a message of sorts. Cain Moran had an inkling that there was more to this than James Banks Junior was letting on. It was a melon scratcher all right.

For the first time since he had been banged up, Cain fell asleep thinking of someone other than his Jenny.

A wise man once said that a prison was a place of revenge and retribution. The man in question was doing thirty years and had already served twenty-eight of those, so he knew what he was talking about.

Young James seemed to have quietened down, and some of the men breathed a sneaky sigh of relief; a murder on the wing would cause a lot of fucking aggravation. Others believed the lad was biding his time and waiting for his opportunity, so there was a general feeling of expectancy in the air too. It was certainly colouring the men’s days, and the POs were in a state of nervous exhaustion into the bargain. Young James was acting as if all was well with his world and Cain Moran was not showing any sign of concern. It was everyone around them who seemed to be the most troubled.

In truth, Cain was on red alert. His big fear was that if it went off too soon, it might affect his wedding, and that was something he did
not
want to happen. It was only three days away and he wanted it to go off without a hitch of any kind. This was Jenny’s big day and it had to be as fabulous as possible, given the circumstances and where it would be taking place. He had taken it upon himself to weigh out a serious wedge to make sure there was a decent cake, good flowers and to top it off one of the POs had even promised him an hour with his new bride. That was something he was
really
looking forward to.

He could smell cannabis and knew without looking that Stevie Harper had come into the kitchen, Stevie liked to do his time stoned. Lots of the younger men were inclined that way. It was considered one of their five a day − it was green and could be mistaken for a vegetable, he supposed. Cain wasn’t averse to the odd puff himself, though he would never understand the heroin used by so many of the younger men. But they were entitled to do their time in their own way, and no one could deny them that − especially the POs who brought it in at greatly inflated prices.

‘All right, Stevie lad?’

Stevie was really stoned today; his eyes looked like pools of piss in the snow. Still, he was an amiable boy and rarely any trouble. ‘I’ve got the fucking munchies. Anything sweet about?’

Cain couldn’t help laughing at him. ‘There’s still a bit of cake from Blokko’s birthday.’

Stevie was thrilled. ‘You are a fucking veritable Escoffier, mate. That cunt could cook and all.’

Cain grinned. Only mad Stevie would know about a French chef. He was a mine of useless information − he read voraciously and had a brain like a sponge. The men were forever telling him he should do a degree, use his time inside wisely. But he had no interest. Stevie said he went on the rob rather than to school, so he wasn’t going back there now. It was a crying shame because he was a clever lad when he bothered.

‘Listen, Cain, I know I shouldn’t be telling tales out of school, but watch your back tomorrow, mate. He’s eager and he’s determined.’

Cain stopped his food prep and turned to face Stevie. ‘Could you do me a favour? Would you ask him to leave this until after the wedding? I just want to get that out of the way, you know?’

Stevie nodded. ‘’Course. Can’t see why he wouldn’t. It’s all a fuck-up anyway. On a death wish, if you ask me.’

Cain didn’t bother answering. He thought he might talk to the lad himself and see if he could sort this out − at least in the interim anyway. Jenny was so looking forward to taking his name and being his wife − it was all she wanted in her life. It wasn’t really much, when you thought about it. She was a fucking star. Cain wondered if he deserved to be loved with such loyalty. She just saw this as a blip; on the nights when sleep escaped him, this seemed like a fucking big blip to him. He knew how lucky he was that she was happy to wait for him. He couldn’t bear the thought of her with anyone else; just the idea of someone else touching her was enough to send him nearly demented. He had expected it at first, even as he prayed it never happened.

He had seen the effect a wife finding an alternative sex life and pay packet could cause to men in his position. It was harder for them at times because they were men who were respected for not showing weakness. They couldn’t reveal the pain of betrayal. They left behind beautiful, vibrant women still in the peak of their physical fitness, who were far better-looking than they deserved. If they hadn’t been villains the women would never have given them a second fucking look. How could they be blamed if they got fed up of waiting around and found another meal ticket?

So many young women used sex as a bargaining tool to make sure the men they targeted left their wives and children for a better fuck and a supposedly better life. They provided a quiet haven with no kids, a decent Scotch and a firm pair of knockers, heady stuff to the men they had set their caps at. Men had walked away from the mothers of their children for less. Loyalty might be everything in a villain’s game, but when it came to wives it was a one way street. They expected it, even if they didn’t give it.

But young girls weren’t about to spend the best years of their lives visiting a man old enough to be their father. They loved the name, the money and the prestige they garnered from their association with the criminal they had shagged like their lives depended on it. But once the said criminal got a lump and a half there was some rethinking on the part of the young female. They tended to go on the trot before the end of the trial. Karma was a bastard.

Cain Moran was one of the lucky ones. It was more than just love with his Jenny − she was staunch and loyal and she did believe in fidelity. That was why he was so pleased he had never taken a flier during their relationship − it made him feel that he had been as loyal to her as she was to him. And it meant he could justify expecting her fidelity in the dark hours of the night when he wondered if she was really as good as she made out. That was another pitfall for the long timers − the night thoughts, when you questioned everything about yourself and your life, when you felt paranoia settle over you and you tortured yourself with thoughts that you knew were wrong but you couldn’t dismiss. He would picture Jenny with another man, convince himself that she was laughing up her sleeve at him, making a fool of him, feeling the bitter tears of frustration and desolation wash over him, until the dawn light when he would finally manage to get a few hours’ sleep, and the world could be put back on its axis again. Until the next time, of course. Night horrors were a part of prison life, everyone knew that.

So he had to make sure his Jenny got her day. She deserved a day to remember.

Blokko Barnes was a well-built man, covered in thick body hair that looked like a coat, with a smile that could disarm a concentration camp guard. He was a big part of wing life, in as much as he was always the first to hear, see or find out something. He could procure almost anything − except a woman. But he was working on that.

He was pondering the situation of Cain Moran and young James Banks. Blokko didn’t like James. He had hated his father and he thought the boy was acting the goat with this macho bullshit. The long and the short of it was the boy wanted what Cain Moran had and he was out to get it. There was also a suspicion − only a small one − that made Blokko believe there was more to this than met the eye. The kid seemed to have an inexhaustible source of bunce. He wasn’t a serious Face like most of the men in here, and he didn’t have the income on the outside to bankroll his nefarious activities. So someone was obviously putting up the dosh and he was doing them a favour while he helped himself at the same time. This was something Blokko knew instinctively, and he was wondering why no one else had thought of it, especially Cain Moran, who was as shrewd as they came. But then, ten years in the clink did dull the senses somewhat.