‘Oh Stan…’
‘Ssh, it’s okay. I don’t mean to upset you but I do want you to understand. And there’s something else, and this is really important. I’ve not told Mum because I don’t want to get her hopes up so don’t say anything, but I hired a private investigator. He’s ex-police and costs a bloody fortune but it’s paying off already. He’s found a few interesting things about Kelly that contradict some of her evidence and also, she’s made complaints of a sexual nature before, but never to the police.’
‘Shit… but can that be used in evidence? You’re going to have to have hard facts, surely.’
‘Yeah I know. It’s going to be tough to prove. But I’m going to ring the detective – his name’s Aiden – and tell him to give you access to what he’s found out. I want you to see, just so that you know she’s a liar and I’m telling the truth. Is that okay?’
‘Stan, I already believe you and you don’t have to prove anything to me. I swear. I don’t give a toss about the jury because I know you’re not like that. You’ve never been violent. Even when we were kids I can’t remember you getting in a fight or throwing your weight about and certainly never with me. When I read your letter, especially her account of that night or how she says you behaved before, it doesn’t fit with the Stan I know and that’s all there is to it. I know a lot of people will say I’m naive and shit like that, but I don’t care. I’ll stand by you and if it makes you feel better I’ll go and see Aiden and read the file.’
‘Really? I can’t tell you what it means to hear you say that. The only thing that’s got me through the past four weeks is thinking of you and I even started praying. Bet you never thought you’d hear me say that but I was desperate.’
Billie glanced up at the clock and saw they only had minutes left. ‘No, I didn’t but I get the desperation bit. Look, you need to stay positive. Hopefully Aiden can dig up more dirt on her and in the meantime you can ring me anytime you want, okay. I saw that we can email and they print it off for you, so shall I write or do you prefer to speak on the phone?’
‘Both, or just phone calls. Whatever is best for you.’
‘Do you need me to send anything, or is there anything I can bring next time I come?’
‘I’ll let you know but there’s not much I need really…’
Stan stopped mid-sentence and just held Billie’s stare which she returned, their eyes locked. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Or maybe it was better if she didn’t.
It was then that Billie felt the grip of panic. Or was it desperation because she didn’t want to leave him behind? There was so much more she wanted to say but it wasn’t the right time. She could see that Stan was fighting a tremendous battle to maintain his composure and throughout their conversation there had been moments when she’d seen his lips wobble and tears well. There was plenty of time for her to tell him what was really on her mind but not today, in front of all these strangers. She realised that now. Christ, that really was the stupid understatement of the year. Stan had six whole years stretching in front of him. But he had enough to deal with and what she had to tell him could make being trapped in here a zillion times worse. Billie had to get it right for everyone’s sake.
The bell signalling visiting time was at an end made Billie jump and she saw Stan slump, then he straightened and the brave face returned. Others in the room were getting to their feet and embracing so she did the same. Billie knew the rules: it had to be quick, no lingering kisses. But when Stan’s arms wrapped around her body she wanted so badly to stay there forever. Now it was her turn to hold it all in.
Mid-embrace, Billie’s eye’s rested briefly on another prisoner. A bona fide meathead with a bald, shiny scalp and tribal tattoo along the length of his neck. His blue eyes stared her out and he walked past just a bit too close for comfort. She’d spotted him earlier as she waited for Stan and again during the visit. He’d been checking her out and now he was definitely giving her evils and it made her shudder. Billie averted her eyes and pulled away from Stan before they got into trouble from one of the officers who were herding inmates from the room. It was clear he couldn’t speak so she did it for them both, just.
‘Right, I’ll ring your mum as soon as I get outside and, don’t worry, I’ll be positive when I speak to her. I’ll make arrangements to go over tomorrow if she’s up to it, and I’ll get in touch with Aiden too. I’ll see you in a fortnight, okay?’ Billie could hear the crack in her throat and she knew she had to go before she lost it, so hugged him quickly one more time and kissed him firmly on the lips.
It lasted for a second but it was enough to break Stan and she heard him catch a sob then hold it in. As she watched him abruptly turn away and head towards the officer, Billie prayed he wasn’t crying. She was, and as she followed the rest of the visitors towards the exit, tears streamed unchecked down her face.
7
At the door of the community centre on a forlorn and forgotten estate in Openshaw, a bedraggled, rain-soaked woman took shelter under the corrugated roof and pretended to search for something inside her bag, thus averting her eyes from the much drier woman in the pink puffa jacket who was making her way up the steps.
Once Pink Puffa passed and folded down her umbrella, shaking the residue onto the floor, the woman zipped up her bag and listened as she pushed the buzzer. When a voice said ‘hello’, Pink Puffa spoke into the intercom system. ‘I’m here for the women’s group meeting.’
Another buzz and the lock clicked, allowing Pink Puffa to push it open but before it swung closed behind her, she turned and smiled at the woman. ‘Are you coming in or are you going to stand out here getting soaked?’
Pink Puffa waited and held the woman’s gaze. Returning the smile she nodded and stepped inside.
‘Don’t be nervous, everyone is really nice and we’re all here for the same reason. C’mon, you can sit next to me.’ And with that, Pink Puffa gestured with her head that the woman should follow.
They made their way along the corridor, passing colourful stick-people paintings that merged with the information posters that outlined the services and activities available at the centre. Their wet shoes left footprints on the faded, tatty carpet and the woman could smell coffee and the unmistakeable aroma of burnt toast. They came to a halt at the open door of a small room that was already occupied by six or seven other women.
Pink Puffa turned. ‘Here we are. Now, my name is Kelly, what’s yours?’
‘Er… Tina.’
‘Right, Tina. Well, I’ll introduce you and then I’m sure everyone else will do the same and remember, this is a place where we can relax and talk openly. If you just want to sit and listen that’s okay too.’ With that, Kelly took Tina’s arm, strolled into the room and began introducing.
Seeing the welcoming smiles of women who looked ordinary, just like her, Tina began to relax a little, grateful that she’d bumped into such a nice person at the door. Tina had been about to bolt, just like she had the previous week when she’d turned up for the meeting but this time, Pink Puffa Kelly had given her the courage to go inside. In that brief moment, Tina had been grateful to be on the receiving end of kindness because it made a change from being on the receiving end of a fist.