The Dead Ex(69)

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I was just desperate to work for you full-time. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot in front of that journalist.’

‘No. You shouldn’t.’ He pulls up my skirt.

‘Here?’ I whisper. ‘Your note said we had to be discreet.’

‘The door’s locked,’ he growls.

He presses his mouth against mine. I can feel his body hardening. Power and excitement surge through me. I suspect he feels the same. Might as well let him enjoy that for a while longer. I’m under no illusions that this is going to last.

‘OK,’ he says, doing up his trousers afterwards.

‘Better than OK, surely?’ I retort, pretending to look offended.

He laughs with a smile that actually reached his eyes. ‘Actually, it was amazing.’ He gives me a quick kiss. ‘The “OK” referred to your earlier request regarding a job. I’ll employ you for six months. After that, we’ll see what happens.’

Yes! It was almost too easy.

‘Thank you!’ I jump up and put my arms around him. He seems frozen for a second, and then hugs me back. ‘Go and tell my PA. She’ll sort out the paperwork.’

Posh Perdita is going to get the shock of her life.





35



Vicki

17 May 2018


I’ve got another padmate. The woman whose kids are with her mother-in-law kicked up when she learned she was sharing with a ‘murderer’, even though I haven’t even been tried yet. So much for our ‘innocent until proven guilty’ law.

The new one is keen to tell me that she’s here for fraud, even though she didn’t do it. ‘They’ say she embezzled several thousand from the company books, which seems a hard one to get out of. She spends hours in the prison library, leafing through legal textbooks. ‘I can’t afford a barrister,’ she says. ‘I’m going to argue my own case.’

I can’t help being impressed. In a way, I’m surprised my solicitor is still with me. She’s already said that she only wants to represent me if I am telling the truth. Perhaps I should have been honest from the beginning, but if I had, I’m pretty sure no one would have believed me.

Right now I’m having lunch with the other girls on the wing. We eat outside our cells at a large table in a communal area. It’s quite casual, with drinks machines at the side. The set-up might surprise some people who are used to seeing noisy prison dining halls. But they’re not all like that. However, if I am found guilty, I will be sent to a high-security prison with fewer privileges.

My cheese roll is actually quite tasty. It’s weird, how you can appreciate things like that even in situations like this one. I’ve almost finished when one of the officers comes in. ‘Legal visit for Goudman.’

Penny isn’t due to be here for another half an hour. My heart starts pounding.

‘You took all the chutney,’ says one of the girls as I get up.

I shrug. ‘Sorry.’

‘That’s not fuckin’ good enough.’

‘Shut up.’ This is from the woman I used to share a pad with. ‘You don’t want to mess with that one. She’s evil.’

It’s not true, I want to argue back as I follow the officer to the legal visits room. Then again, who am I to say?

Penny Brookes is there, waiting for me, sitting on the other side of the desk. I can almost imagine that this is a normal working office environment except that there are signs on the walls warning that VIOLENCE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.

‘How are you doing?’

Despite her clipped politeness, there is a reservation about her expression which suggests a problem. As if we don’t have enough.

‘I’m concerned about the jury’s reaction when the new witness tells them that she saw you coming out of Tanya’s house, holding something.’

‘It wasn’t a chain,’ I remind her.

‘But we can’t prove it. Even if they found the Welsh spoon, it wouldn’t be enough. What we need is a character witness who can vouch for your good behaviour in the past. How about this Patrick M—’

‘No.’ I stand up abruptly. My solicitor jumps. For the first time since we’ve met, I see fear on her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say quickly, sitting down again. ‘But he’s the one person I can’t ask.’

It was December 2008 when I met Patrick Miles.

‘You’re going to another women’s prison,’ one of the deputy governors had told me. He paused as if about to say something else and then stopped. ‘There aren’t many in this country, as you know. This one needs someone like you to shake it up. There’ve been, let’s say, some issues with management which the press have got wind of. If you do a good job, Vicki, you’ll be well on your way to the top.’

My heart thudded with excitement. Wasn’t that what I wanted? Maybe I might even make deputy governor one day or – the real cherry on top – governor itself? That would show Dad and the neighbours.

‘What kind of problems?’ I asked.

‘The usual. Overcrowding. Rebellions. Hunger strikes. Racist attacks. Arson. You name it.’ His eyes searched mine. ‘Are you up to it, Vicki? I know you like a challenge.’