Our Vinnie (33 page)

‘On the streets’? Listen to them
, she thought. If only they could hear themselves. ‘Such as?’ she wanted to know, placing a hand on each hip. She was actually rather enjoying this. ‘Like how to nick stuff, how to dodge the bizzies, how to play knock-a-door-run and drive everyone up the wall? Oh, that’s
really
clever, that is. That’ll really serve you well in life. Just like thinking “betterer” is a proper word will, as well.’

‘’Tis a word!’ the shorter of the two boys protested. ‘It means good, an’ that. And …’

‘And what?’ she said, using her foot to snap the brake off the pram, while he thought.

But the boy wasn’t thinking. He was now looking past her. He’d obviously seen something of greater interest than her. So she went to turn as well, and just as she did so, heard a loud, phlegmy cough close behind her. It was a sound she hadn’t heard in years – how many years now? But that, chillingly, she remembered very well.

He was almost beside the pram. Almost in smelling distance, as well as seeing distance, and she instantly recoiled. Melvin. Mucky Melvin. Here. Now. Just the sound of the name felt like a physical assault on her. And the distance of years – and how long
had
it been now? Six? – had suddenly shortened; snapped back to almost nothing at all.

He bent slightly to peer into the pram. ‘Well, well,’ he said, his voice like wet sandpaper. ‘Little girl, is it? I bet she’ll be a stunner when she gets older.’

Josie felt her hands gripping tightly to the pram handle as she pulled it back, lifted the front wheels and turned it full around. Even the idea that he was looking at her baby revolted her.

She started to walk away from him, aware of the two boys still looking on. Though they’d moved a few steps away now, to a new, safer vantage-point. She could tell that seeing Melvin up close had rattled them a bit as well. But though she felt frightened too, there was another feeling welling up inside her. Rage, that was what it was. A powerful maternal rage.

She turned back to him again, sickened and shaking with fury. ‘You,’ she said, raising a hand to stab a finger towards him. ‘If you ever come near me and my family again, I’ll make sure you fucking pay for it, you hear me?’

Melvin stood his ground, unabashed by her. Brazen, in fact. How dare he! Then his features, always grisly but now etched with a network of deep wrinkles, rearranged themselves to form a lecherous smile.

‘Oh, it’s a bit late for that, lass,’ he said, licking spittle from his lower lip. ‘Your Lyndsey’s little Sammy does my shopping for me these days. Little angel she is.’ He paused, the smile splitting his face further. ‘Oh, yes,’ he finished, ‘she’s
always
happy to oblige.’

Then, as Josie watched, disgusted, he cleared his wattly throat. He spat then; producing a green globule that fell and glistened on the pavement, before he hobbled, chuckling, into the post office.

Josie stood rooted to the spot for a moment, unable to move, much less think rationally or speak. Sammy? Lyndsey’s
Sammy
? It couldn’t be, surely? Wherever Melvin lived now it was nowhere near where they did. He’d been re-homed at the other end of the estate – and good riddance – and she thought she’d seen the last of him. She
had
seen the last of him. And as far as she knew, he’d not been seen on their part of the estate in years. So how could it
be
that … She felt a jabbing in her side. It made her jump. It was one of the two boys.

‘You know who
that
was?’ he asked her, chest puffed out, chin jutting. He was clearly proud to be able to deliver such important intelligence. ‘That was Mucky Melvin, that was,’ he said solemnly. ‘He lives in a haunted house, and he’s a perver.’

‘Yeah, he’s a perver,’ the other boy agreed, ‘and you shouldna spoke to him. Me mam said. She said he likes doing things you don’t want to know about. Things like sexing stuff, an’ that. He’s a very bad man.’

Josie looked from one boy to the other, her mind whirring horribly. She nodded at them. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know.’

Josie walked home from the post office the long way. Eddie’s mum was at home and for the moment she wanted to avoid her. She loved her to bits; she and Eddie’s dad had been so good to them, always, but right now she needed space and time to think.

Sammy. Could it be true? She hoped to God it couldn’t be. Hoped to God it was just him trying to rile her, just for the hell of it. But her nieces were 13 and 12 now, making Sammy – and she could hardy bear to think about it, really – almost exactly the same age as she had been when Vinnie had been dragged off to approved school and she’d made the worst mistake ever in setting foot in that filthy bastard’s house.

And Sammy had been acting funny just lately, too. She saw lots of the girls – they’d both been such a help with Paula – but over the past few months, since a while before she’d had the baby, come to think of it, Sammy had seemed different – quieter, less full of life, a bit withdrawn. Josie had put it down to her being a teenager, starting her periods, being a bit moody, but as she walked and pondered she felt a chill coming over her; like when a door suddenly blows open, allowing you to see what you couldn’t see before.

And Josie didn’t like what she was seeing. It repulsed her. The question was, what to do? Who to tell? Lyndsey would be worse than useless; she was always worse than useless, because she was off her head most of the time these days. No, perhaps she needed to pop round when Sammy got home from school, take her out for a walk or something and ask her outright.
Fuck
, she thought. Melvin wasn’t gone and forgotten after all. He’d been forgotten but he had
not
gone. Just moved away and
moved
on. And it was going to be up to her to stop him. Starting now.

She looked again at her baby daughter, now gazing up at her with her huge, thick-lashed eyes.
A little stunner
, he’d said. Josie tightened her grip on the pram handle. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.

Chapter 26

Vinnie took a long slow look around his cell, and realised that what he felt was ill at ease. It was an unnatural feeling for him, being so nervous, and he didn’t like it. Even so, he couldn’t seem to shake it off.

Six years. Six long years he’d called Thorp Arch his home, and now he was leaving it he felt strange. He’d had quite a few cells now, on quite a few landings, but though the company had been different – sometimes good, sometimes not so good – each cell had been basically the same.

Gordon was long gone – since over a year back, his time served. And even he – twice-round-the-block old timer that he was – couldn’t believe they’d made Vinnie serve every single day of his sentence. It was practically unheard of, and though Vinnie didn’t like it – who would? – it at least gave him a certain cachet, a certain notoriety.

Which was about to depart along with him. He was someone in here. Whereas out there … well, if he didn’t have such a solid, focussed plan on his mind, he might be feeling even more nervous than he already was at the probable uncertainty of his new social status.

His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sound of heavy boots on hard floor.

‘Now then, sir,’ he said, as Mr Malvern stepped into the cell and joined him. ‘I don’t want no tears when I’m gone, okay? I know how cut up you’re going to be without me, but try to hold it together won’t you, sir?’

Malvern laughed and sat down on the bunk alongside him. ‘I’ll try my best, son,’ he said. ‘Though I can’t make any promises. How long before they come for you?’

Vinnie shrugged. ‘Dunno, sir. They said it would be just after dinner but that was over an hour ago. I wish they’d hurry up, though. I got my mate Brendan coming – driving all the way from Bradford and all to fetch me – and he’s not going to wait all fucking day.’

In truth he would. Of course he would. He was as solid a mate as anyone could ever wish for, and thinking about seeing him stilled Vinnie’s nerves a bit.

Malvern nodded. Then he cleared his throat. ‘Listen, son,’ he said, looking at Vinnie intently. ‘I know we’ve had our ups and downs in here and our little misunderstandings, but I hope you know how much I mean what I’m about to say. I really hope you’re going to try hard to stay out of here – and places
like
here – from now on, Vinnie. It’s not worth it, mate. However much you think it might be when push comes to shove, it really isn’t. And you’re a good lad, son. I know you are. You’re worth more than this.’

Vinnie grinned, and Malvern smiled, knowing exactly what he was referring to.
Little misunderstandings? That was the understatement of the fucking year!
He had, for a long time, laboured under a massive misunderstanding. That Malvern had been a key part of that set up with Joe Devanney. The cunt was long gone himself now, and good fucking riddance. Hopefully to some prison hell-hole for sub-human species. But his sense of injustice had burned. And along with it had certainty about who’d stitched him up. That it had been the governor
and
Malvern. That Malvern had been responsible for that long period of isolation he’d endured. For the fact that he’d emerged from it such a different, broken person; with that leaden feeling that something vital had snapped inside him, and lacking the will to care about anyone or anything.

He had almost lost his mind and had definitely lost his will and it had taken many months and lots of proof before Vinnie would allow the possibility that, actually, Mr Malvern had had nothing to do with it. Had been as blind to the set-up as he had.

He would miss him. Along with Gordon, he was the closest thing to a fucking father he’d ever had in here. Yes, he thought as Malvern stood up, he would miss him.

‘Don’t you worry, sir,’ he reassured him. ‘I’ve had enough of bang-up. I’m 23 now – nearly 24! I need to find a bird and settle down a bit. And anyway, sir, you’ve met my mother. You think she’d let me? She’d chop my fucking hands off if I started getting up to no good.’

Mr Malvern smiled and stepped outside again. ‘Good to hear it, lad,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I’ll go and find out what’s going on for you. Make sure you’ve got everything, won’t you? You done the rounds? Said all your goodbyes and fuck-offs yet?’

Vinnie nodded. ‘Said all I had to say yesterday. Not many of my mates left in here anyway, sir, are there?’ he winked. ‘And I’ve sorted out the ones that matter.’

Malvern nodded. Vinnie knew he understood.

Since the business with the nonce, and the punishment that had ensued, Vinnie had done a great deal of soul-searching. And one of the things that had struck him most forcibly was that, for however long he had left – and it had, after that, become a long time – that he should trust no one. Not on the inside and not on the outside, and it simplified life enormously. If you worked on the basis that no one gave a fuck about you, it absolved you of the responsibility of giving a fuck in return. Gordon was excluded, of course – he was his only real fucking friend in here – and, to a certain extent (he was still a prison officer, working to rules) Mr Malvern too. But Gordon –
fuck
he missed him, because, in truth, he had saved him. He’d been the only port in such a fucking ugly shit-storm. And that was because he knew that, despite the permanent grin and the ready bravado, Vinnie
had
been a broken man – hardly a man at all, looking back. A busted kid – literally – after they’d finished with him. Left him with his broken bones, his chipped teeth and his burst eardrum. A busted kid who, protected by Gordon (who peddled the line that he was as fit as ever and not to be messed with), needed a great deal of time and space to heal, and a place of safety in which to find his resolve again.

But he had, he was proud to note, scored a victory. It was soon clear that no nonce would be tolerated on normal landings. Not when Vinnie was about, anyway. And the other prisoners soon got behind him in their droves, leading to what seemed revolutionary at the time, but three years on had become routine: segregation of sex offenders away from the normal landings.

Several other prisons – more forward thinking, perhaps – were already doing this, Vinnie later found out, to the benefit of all. But, even so, from time to time, the odd one or other found their way to a cell with a more run-of-the-mill prisoner, and from time to time – as night followed fucking day, in fact – the nonce would end up getting a beating.

No one would ever convince Vinnie that these episodes weren’t planned. Which was fine as far as he was concerned – nonces got what they deserved – but only if the designated avenging fucking angel wasn’t the one who ended up paying the price.

He stood and stretched. And now it was done. He was free. He was free and going home – ‘home’; what a weird concept that was – and to his mam, who he knew would be just the same as when he’d left. Still slapping on the lippy in front of the mantelpiece mirror, still giving his dad shit about nothing.

But no Titch at home now.
Christ
, that seemed unbelievable. Unbelievable to think she was a fully grown woman, let alone one with a bloke and a job and a fucking baby. He pulled her letter from his jeans pocket and unfolded it carefully, smiling at the sight of the two snaps of his latest niece.
Poor little bleeder
, Titch had written.
Looks just like you, ha-ha
. And Vinnie liked to think she did, too.

It would be weird seeing Titch again, all grown up, all sorted out now. Because she was. She so obviously was. You could tell that from her letters. She’d got things together, clearly. Put the horrible stuff behind her – though, how the fuck
did
you put shit like that behind you? Being raped by a fucking nonce when you were 11?

Vinnie didn’t know how she’d done it – and maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she’d just done a good job of burying it. Something Vinnie’d not managed himself. In fact, there was only one thing Vinnie
had
put behind him – any idea that he should do what the psychologist wankers wanted. Move on in life. Let bygones be bygones. Forget, forgive and all that kind of shit.