Bang Up: Prison walls don't just keep criminals in, the keep the outside world at bay (22 page)

Mark’s voice changed as he sat on the chair facing Mikey. He knew exactly what he meant by his words and he could identify with the prisoner. Nobody ever gave him a second chance either. Nobody really trusted him anymore if he was being honest with himself, not even his wife. Looking up to the ceiling, he began to speak. His tone changed now and he was actually feeling sorry for the lad. “Mikey, you’re a young man with your whole life set out in front of you. You’ve just had a bad start that’s all. My job is to help you try and change. All the help is here for you, you’ve just got to let people in and stop pressing the self-destruct button all the time.” 

Mikey was a cunning fucker, he smirked and ran his fingers through his hair. All he needed to do now was to tell him a few things about his life and he would have him eating out of the palm of his hand. This one always worked, got them onside. “Blah, blah fucking blah. Don’t you think I’ve heard all this shit before? Nobody can help me. I’m a lost cause. My life has been shit, my own mother was a smackhead and I’ve been in the care system for as long as I can remember.” Mikey was blurting it out now, he was holding nothing back. He was telling him things he should have kept to himself. “My dad fucked off when I was a kid and I’ve looked after myself for as long as I can remember. So don’t give me that ‘we can help you’ story. My head was burnt out ages ago, nobody can do fuck all. It’s gone too far.”

Mark rolled his sleeve up slightly and checked his watch. He had a bit of time left before his shift ended and he really thought he’d crossed a bridge with this inmate. He was ready to do anything to try and help him. “Everyone has shit in their lives mate. Even me. I know you think I probably have it all but trust me, you don’t know the half of it.” Mark should have stopped right there but for some reason, today his problems at home were there for everyone to see. He folded his arms tightly across his chest and seemed in a world of his own as he confessed how fucked his own life really was. “I’m in debt up to my eyeballs lad and if something doesn’t give soon, I’ll lose my wife and my home.” Mark was giving out confidential information now and had clearly forgotten who he was talking to. 

Mikey was listening carefully and he was never one to miss an opportunity to challenge somebody. “Stop lying to me. You have a good job that pays well. You must be stacking the cash, how can you have money troubles, don’t make me laugh!” 

Mark dipped his head and cupped his hands together, playing with his fingers. “You don’t want to know pal… anyway,” he gave his head a shake and realised he was revealing too much about his personal life, “let me help you out and see how it goes. I promise I won’t judge you and I will give you a second chance.” 

Mikey chuckled. What a load of bullshit this was, these were just words – the same words every Tom, Dick and Social Worker had said to him over the years. Mikey was listening and looked at the screw more closely. But then perhaps this Mark wasn’t that bad after all, perhaps he’d got him all wrong? “Yeah, let’s see. I can’t think as far as tomorrow at the moment, never mind the future. Just let me stew over it for a while and I’ll get back to you. There’s no rush is there. It’s not like I’m going anywhere, is it!” 

Mark looked puzzled and went to his computer screen. He sat at his desk and it was clear that something had unnerved him. “What did you say your dad was called?” 

Mikey shrugged his shoulders. Why was he asking that? With caution, he sat forward in his seat and answered him. “Dennis, my dad’s called Dennis.” 

Mark scrolled down the screen and he seemed to be reading something on one of his files. The keyboard clicked rapidly as he punched at the keys. Mark sat reading again. The colour drained from his cheeks and he lifted his head up slowly. Mikey was uneasy and although he didn’t speak, he knew something was going on. The screw sprang to his feet and changed the subject quickly. What the hell was going on? “Right, erm. Let’s talk again tomorrow. I’ll have a word with the others and tell them to back off for a while.” 

Mikey sniggered, he’d done his job. He wasn’t getting a strip search. He stood to his feet and looked the officer up and down. Perhaps, these two could work together after all, they could help each other out, scratch each other’s backs. Mikey whistled as he left the room. “In a big-un.”

*

Brendan Mellor sat in his pad and punched his fist into the pillow. He’d show Mikey Milne what he was about. How could he just sell him out like that? Somehow, someway, he was getting what was coming to him. Everybody was right about him, even his own father had told him that Mikey was all about himself. He’d argued and defended his mate and called his old man a liar but, not now, not anymore. Now he saw him for the self-centred prick he really was. It was every man for himself from this day forward and he was going to bring Mikey down the second he got the chance. His mate had ruined his life, taken his freedom away, and all for what? It was payback time!

*

Mark finished his shift and made his way to the car park. The van containing more prisoners being shipped to the jail was pulling up inside the grounds. The officer stood watching from a distance as he popped a well-deserved cigarette in his mouth. Smithy came to join him and shook his head as they heard the shouting and screaming of an inmate being dragged from the van. This criminal was hardcore and even as they watched, they knew the new inmate would land on their wing. All the troubled convicts somehow ended up on their blocks. Mark chugged hard on his fag and shook his head. “Fuck me, like we need any more shit on our turf,” his eyes shot back to the commotion opposite them. “Do you think we should give the lads a lift with that one? It looks like he’s overpowering them. Three of them are on him and they’re not moving him an inch.” 

Smithy shot a look over and patted Mark on the shoulder. “You finish your cig. I’ll just run over and lend a hand.” Mark watched as his work colleague sprinted into action. Smithy would sort this new guy out, he was a master at restraining even the hardest of criminals, he would take him down in one move, put him on his arse. Mark flicked the butt from his cigarette and listened to the loud noises coming from the van. He sniggered to himself and craned his neck. The situation was under control now and just as he had thought, Smithy had helped them get the new prisoner inside the jail. He would have given him a good hiding no doubt, ragged him about. 

The wind was howling and the cold night air was tickling his ears. Blowing warm breath on the palms of his hands, he rubbed them together trying to get warm. Smithy was on his way back. As he reached him he was gasping for breath. “Fuck me, he’s a big bastard that one. I swear, I’m losing my touch. I need to train a bit harder.” 

Mark started to walk to the car park and smirked. “Tell me about it. I’ve not got the motivation to train anymore. It’s this job stressing me out. Who was it anyway, is it anyone we know?” 

Smithy started to take his coat off before he opened his car door and gasped his breath. “I’m not sure who he is. One of the other thugs called him Davo though. Anyway, tomorrow’s another day, fuck speaking about work now, we’ve clocked off. We’ll deal with it when we have to.” 

Smithy jumped inside his car, fastened his seatbelt and started the engine. Mark walked to his vehicle not far away. He paused before he got inside. Turning his head slowly, he looked back at the prison and seemed in a deep trance as he took in his surroundings. This place was getting to him now and the sooner he was out of there the better. Smithy honked his horn as he drove past him. Mark was still in a world of his own and raised his hand up slowly to say goodbye. He was alone now and there was nobody else in the car park. As he listened closely he could hear the disturbing voices from the inmates locked behind bars; swearing, whistling, singing, screaming. They were all off their rockers. Not one of them was anywhere near normal. Mark opened his car door and turned the radio on. He needed to get as far away as he could from this place now. It was wearing him down.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rachel was quivering. She rubbed vigorously at her arms as she hovered about, looking at her mother’s house from the other side of the road. “Just go and knock on the door… no, wait, think about it.” Her head was all over the show. This woman had most certainly bitten off more than she could chew. Her heart was in her mouth. Rachel peered out from near the bus shelter like a sniper, she shot her eyes one way, then the other as she ragged her fingers through her hair. This was a bad idea and she didn’t know how she’d let herself come this far. It had all seemed a good idea when she set off but now she was facing her fears, she was flapping. Rachel slid down the wall at the side of her and dropped her head into her hands, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered. This was all Sarah’s fault; she’d filled her head with that much shit regarding family values that she let her think she had no other option than to go and see her mother. 

Rachel stood up and paced one way then the other. She looked different today; clean and tidy and not her usually scruffy self, she had scrubbed up well. These last few days had been horrendous for her and it was only when she heard that Davo had been lifted that she started to relax. The local gangster had been caught bang to rights on a job he was involved in and had broken the conditions of his parole; word on the street was he was getting the book thrown at him. He was a twat and getting what he deserved. Davo had done some bad things to the residents in the area and a lot of them would have been relieved behind closed doors. Good riddance to the prick. Let him rot in hell! The threats he’d made to Rachel had really unsettled her, he said he was going to set her house alight with her in it and he would have as well, the guy was a sick, twisted bastard who liked to see his victims suffer. This was one of the first days Rachel had set foot outside her front door, she’d had the shits for days and her stomach was churning constantly. 

Mikey had been belling her nearly every night after bang up. He was worried about her safety as well. His head was done in and anytime he got the chance he was on the blower to his mother checking she was alright. He’d told her straight that he’d left her in charge of the money and it was her job to make sure she got it back. This was a bit unfair and a big ask but he was right, he’d left her in charge of the cash and she’d lost it. It was her problem to deal with. Mikey had accused her of being part of it. Yes, in his own head he actually thought his mother had a part to play in all of this. He might have been paranoid but his mind was working overtime and he didn’t know what to think anymore. Mikey’s words hit her deep in her heart and she’d tried to make him believe that she would never double-cross him like that but she had history - she was a thief and a liar, her track record wasn’t great. What did she expect? She’d done similar things in the past and where earning some extra cash was concerned, she didn’t care who she had over. A ruthless bitch she was with no morals. 

Rachel’s spirit was low and she had nowhere else to turn in her time of need. She’d felt loneliness before in her life, isolation, but it never hit her as bad as it did now. There was an emptiness in her heart, a dull aching pain that never left her. Sarah was helping her out but she couldn’t be with her twenty-four hours a day. In fact, if she was being honest, Sarah was doing her head in most of the time, she was a right boring cow and they never really had anything in common to talk about. Chalk and cheese they were. Her heart was in the right place she supposed, but fuck me, Rachel thought, she could talk a glass eye to sleep. She just never shut up chatting pure bullshit. Who on this earth wanted to know the latest news about politics and how much a Mac foundation cost? Rachel knew full well that crime didn’t pay in the long run but she had no other choice than to start shoplifting again, even if it meant risking jail. Somehow, some way, she had to make sure the money was back for her son. It was his nest egg, his chance of a better future. She owed him that much, she couldn’t let him down. She was trying to change but it was so hard for her. It was like she was banging her head against a brick wall. Rachel had lived in this kind of world for as long as she could remember and to be a straight head was something she would always struggle with. Where was the excitement in going to work every day anyway? It was boring and not her cup of tea. She had no real qualifications, the best job she could ever hope for was a cleaner or a lollipop lady. 

Rachel craned her neck and watched the house across the road. Her sister’s black car was parked up outside her mother’s house. A smart top-of-the-range BMW it was, her husband’s pride and joy. His fanny magnet, or so he thought. Rachel knew that, at this time of night, her family would be sat around the kitchen table sharing a bottle of red wine. Cath had always thought she was a cut above the rest and liked to think she was posh. She ate lots of foreign dishes and travelled to exotic holiday resorts hoping to learn more about different cultures. Rachel had never got as far as Blackpool. She had no urge to ever travel either, she was a home bird and liked what she was familiar with. Agnes had never really been a big drinker but on the odd occasion she let her hair down and got wrecked. She was a nasty drunk. Oh yes, she was evil with her mouth once she’d necked a few glasses of vino. She could go one way or the other to be honest. 

Rachel sucked in a large mouthful of air as she crossed the road. She knew it was now or never. At least if she tried to make amends and failed, she could go to bed each night knowing she’d tried to fix it. The summer night air was gentle and it tickled her hair as she crossed the road into the cul-de-sac. Her heart was beating rapidly and her legs started to wobble slightly. The lights of her mother’s house were on in the front room and as she neared she could hear music being played. Celine Dion had always been her mother’s favourite singer and she’d often belted out a few tunes when she was drunk. She was a good singer, she could hold a tune. Rachel edged closer to the living room window and peered inside. A warmth filtered her body and she gave an endearing smile. This was what she was missing, home was where the heart was. All the years that had passed she’d been so mixed up in all her traumas that she’d never realised how comforting a family could be in times of need. But they’d sold her out, banished her from the family without so much as a kiss my arse or anything. Okay, she’d fucked up a few times but surely they could understand her point of view. She was in a bad place at that time and her head was all over the place. Watching through the windowpane, she touched the glass with her fingertips. She wanted her family back and hoped they could see eye to eye now she’d realised her mistakes.