The Marriage Act(107)

The prison guard placed the tablet on the seat next to him so the screen remained facing Jeffrey. And before Jeffrey could defend himself, the guard threw himself across the prison van, wrapped a cord around Jeffrey’s neck and attached it to a hook in the van’s roof. He used it to yank Jeffrey forward, forcing him to his knees. Helpless, Jeffrey hurled his body around to try and free himself but he was stymied by his handcuffed wrists and ankles and the other man’s strength. He began to choke.

‘For the rest of her life, your darling Kendra will believe the note I have left in your cell which says you’d rather be dead than married to her, your DNA Match,’ the pale man continued, his face up close to the lens. ‘How do you think that’ll make her feel? Her brothers, sisters, mother, grandparents, children and grandchildren have already disowned her for being with you. And without her beloved Jeffrey, she will have absolutely no one. It wouldn’t surprise me if she followed in your footsteps. And if she doesn’t, then perhaps my colleague and I can pay her a visit and encourage her to do the right thing.’

‘No,’ gasped Jeffrey, ‘Please, no.’

The thought of leaving her alone was heartbreaking, but the thought of her being hurt because of him was unbearable. ‘I beg you,’ he whispered.

‘Chalk her up as another casualty to add to your tally.’

Two of Jeffrey’s fingers slipped under the cord, allowing him to gasp the tiniest amount of air. ‘I’ll . . . do . . . anything.’

‘That’s if she was actually real at all.’

‘W . . . what?’

‘Perhaps it was someone from my department who intercepted your emails and communicated with you. Maybe the Kendra you met was one of my team. Who knows? You certainly won’t.’

Even in his desperate heightened state, Jeffrey could read the pale man’s expression. He was here for revenge and to punish, and not to negotiate.

And in a few short moments, when Jeffrey allowed his fingers to slip from under the cord, the pale man got what he wanted.





91


Roxi




Roxi checked the monitor behind the window and spotted two familiar faces. Breakfast news presenters Esther Green and Stuart James had interviewed her several times when she was Influencing and she felt comfortable around them. And, because they were unlikely to grill her to the degree other hardened hacks might, she had agreed to appear on their programme. They wouldn’t be letting her off the hook, but she wasn’t concerned.

Because throughout the week, media training experts had been rehearsing with her all potential lines of questioning and the most advantageous ways to respond to them. She was as prepared as she could be.

‘What do you think, hun?’ asked her friend, Tracy. ‘This look all right?’

In the Perspex mirror, Roxi checked the reflection of her hair from all angles. She loved her honey-blonde extensions.

‘It looks perfect,’ Roxi replied, ‘thank you.’ She ran her tongue over her newly re-plumped lips then opened and closed her eyes and tried but failed to frown. Her facial muscles were satisfactorily paralysed. The natural Jem Jones-look no longer interested her, not now she had access to Harley Street cosmetologists. If this was going to be her Second Coming, her physical reinvention might as well be as much of a talking point as what she was about to reveal.

‘Good luck,’ said Tracy and blew her an air kiss. ‘We’ll all be watching.’

Roxi was alone for the first time in weeks. It was normally a situation she actively sought to avoid, because silence gave the voices in her head space to breathe and to remind her of those she had trampled over to get to where she was today. However, for the time being, they were mute.

A few minutes passed before she heard her name spoken in her earpiece.

‘Roxi Sager, you are no stranger to controversy, but surely this offer must have taken even you by surprise?’ began Esther. ‘On the day protesters are preparing to march against the Sanctity of Marriage Act, the Government has just made you the brand new face of it.’

‘It did take me by surprise as I’m sure it will a lot of people,’ Roxi replied, staring into the camera above the monitor. ‘But who better to argue the case for it than someone who will do anything to protect their marriage?’

‘Even kill?’

‘Even kill,’ Roxi repeated, a firmness to her tone.

Cheers echoed along the corridor and into the recreation room of the women’s prison Roxi now called home. And a fire she once thought extinguished suddenly lit up inside her.

*

The offer to become the spokesperson for anything, let alone a national Government campaign, came out of the blue. It began with a guard leading Roxi to the prison visitors’ room. Waiting for her in the empty space was a thin, pale-faced man with eyes as dark as his hair. He was sitting upright, drumming his fingers on the table, but not out of impatience. He stretched out his hand to shake hers. She responded cautiously. His bony fingers were ice-cold. She racked her brains for how their paths might have crossed but she was stumped.

‘I’ve watched you so often in the media that it feels as if we’re already friends,’ he began.

‘And you are?’

He ignored her question and rested each fingertip on his chin. ‘I have a proposition for you, Roxi.’