Perfectly Obsessed (11 page)

The regulars look at me like I’m an exhibit at the zoo and while they don’t talk to me much they do leave me healthy tips.

Hours pass and I don’t care what time I am supposed to finish. I’d work till closing if Marg hadn’t have pushed me out the door at five o’clock instructing me to be back tomorrow morning at nine sharp.

Walking home I can’t help feeling a small victory. I have always worked from the age of sixteen and I forgot how exhilarating it can be to do something so mundane that takes your mind off of everything. Tomorrow morning can’t come around quick enough. The only thing I am not looking forward to is taking my boots off, my feet ache to death standing around for most of the day. I can’t even have a soak in the bath on account that Drake only has a shower cubical in his bathroom.

I can hear the phone ringing from outside and I rush down the small hallway to the front door. I end up fumbling around in my bag for the front door key when I think the call is going to cut off. I manage to unlock the door and reach the phone just in time.

“Hello,” I answer, breathlessly.

“So glad you’re home to finally answer my calls.”

Drake and he does not sound happy.

“I…Wait, you don’t normally call till six.”

The line goes quiet, too quiet.

“Drake?”

“I’m here, you have enough money not to fucking work, Cam,” he says, more calmly although I can hear the strain in his tone not to shout.

I take a deep breath. I should have known there would be nothing Drake didn’t find out even though he is locked up.

“I was going to tell you myself, so there’s no need to send spies to watch my every move,” I argue.

“It wasn’t like that,” he says, quietly.

But it is like that, I know it is.

“I’m not doing it for the money, it gives me something to do. Unless you expect me to stay in this flat all day every day till you get out. I can’t do that without sending myself crazy.”

“I’m starting to think you’re already crazy, who works when they don’t have to?”

“I do,” I sigh, “Look Drake, today flew by because I was busy. If you’re not here with me I need something to make the days pass faster till you are.”

The line goes quiet again but I can hear him breathing so I wait for him to talk.

“Okay, we’ll talk about this when you next come to see me. I actually wanted to tell you that I told my solicitor I’m going to plead guilty and he is making the arrangements to get it over and done with quickly.”

I suppose this is the best option we have at the moment.

“When will you hear anything?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it will take long.”

“Okay.”

I genuinely don’t know what else to say about it.

“It’s good to hear your voice babe,” he murmurs down the line and I picture his smile as he is saying it.

“You too,” I tell him.

“I’ve got to go but I have a question for you,” he says.

“What?”

“What colour panties have you got on?” he chuckles.

I feel myself blush in the darkness and a burning sensation prickles me down between my legs.

“Drake,” I giggle, “If you must know, I’m wearing a black, lacy thong.”

His groan down the phone is animalistic and arousing. I sigh heavily and remind myself it is now down to me to dowse the fire when he turns me on.

“That’s an image I’ll be thinking about tonight.”

“Seriously, don’t they listen in to these calls?” I ask him.

“So what?” he laughs, “Okay, I really do need to go now. I love you and I’ll call you tomorrow at six.”

“Okay, I love you too.”

The phone goes dead and I place the phone back on the table. However, this is going to work it starts with me carrying on as normal. I won’t sink into despair every time he calls.

I choose a frozen lasagne from the freezer and shove it in the microwave and begin to settle in for the night. Plan for tomorrow now that I have one is breakfast, work at the café and then back home to talk with Drake, then bed to start it all over again the day after.

Chapter Nine – March 2003

Sometimes three months have felt like three years and sometimes it has felt like three weeks. Drake’s sentencing is today and I have not been able to concentrate on anything else than that. Orders have been messed up, I have daydreamed my way through cleaning the tables down and I have spent more time wiping the same spot than necessary. Les, the owner keeps complaining I am going to clean a hole in the table if I carry on. He has refrained from yelling at me like he does with the other waitresses I have seen work here during the evening shift. Marg has been the same and he doesn’t give her any grief either, albeit, she is more than likely to rip his head off verbally if he tried.

A few of the regulars have expressed their wishes for Drake to be home soon and it is a travesty that he is locked up at all. I smile politely and move on. I love my job here and when Les saw that I was a hard worker and willing to take any shift I can, he has been very kind to make sure I work six days a week to give me as less time at home on my own as possible.

The one day I have to myself, Sunday, I spend visiting Drake’s mother’s grave in the morning with Marg and then I spend the rest of the day cleaning the tiny flat and finishing my weekly letter to Drake telling him every detail I can remember of my week.

The two forty-five minute visits I have each week him only bring me sadness. Sitting so close to him yet I feel so far, and talking to each other is always strained because of everything going on around us. Drake is always calm about it and tells me I will get used to it. I’m not sure I will, I am desperate to have him home.

“Come on, Cam,” I hear from the back, “I know today is hard but if you can’t get this right you should just go home.”

Les is losing his patience and I don’t blame him. I just mixed up an all-day breakfast with sausage, mash and gravy.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, taking the right meal out to the customer.

“Don’t stress, lovey,” Marg smiles, “We haven’t got much longer to wait.”

We could have known by now if it wasn’t for Drake wanting to tell us himself. His solicitor could have passed on the information earlier.

I smile back weakly and try to focus on the job at hand, cleaning yet another table as another customer leaves.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a daze and by the time five o’clock rolls around I can only muster the energy to get me home.

Marg comes with me and we walk in silence. We enter the flat and I put the kettle on for Marg and pour myself a healthy measure of vodka, neat.

He said he would call at six o’clock like he does every night. Forty minutes to go. I sip my drink while we sit on opposite ends of the sofa and I relish the burn slipping down my throat and the fire in my stomach from the alcohol. Usually a triple vodka would have me foggy headed and legs tingling, today though, it hardly affects me.

I watch the clock tick from five fifty-nine to six o’clock and jump off the sofa to wait by the phone on the side table by the television.

My heart rate thumps double time and I wipe my hands on my jeans when they begin to sweat.

I only give the phone chance to ring once before I answer it.

“Hello?”

I pull the phone away and check the line. It is too quiet.

“Drake, is that you?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he murmurs.

“Oh God, it’s bad, isn’t it?” I cry.

Why else for the dramatic silent beginning?

“Babe, calm down,” he tells me, as if that is possible right now.

“Just tell me, Drake.”

“I got five years, with the three months I’ve done on remand and good behaviour I could be home in two and a half years.”

“Well…bloody behave,” I half laugh and half sob.

Two years is hell of a difference to the ten years I was expecting.

“They’re moving me to Pin Green Prison tomorrow, as soon as I can I’ll send you a visiting order. This is better than it could’ve been, my solicitor told me to expect eight to ten years,” he explains.

“I suppose,” I agree, lightly.

“I can’t talk for long, can you put Marg on the phone?”

“Sure,” I sigh.

“I love you, Cammie. You can bet your arse I’ll be home soon.”

“I love you too, call me as soon as you can.”

“I will,” he promises.

I hand the phone over to Marg and refill my glass with vodka, again.

I can hear Marg talking to him like everything is normal, like he is at work late and won’t be home for dinner.

Five or two years is better than ten but I don’t fight the tears that fall, the last three months away from him have been hard and now I know for sure it will be at least a couple of years before he walks through the door again.

I don’t realise Marg has finished her conversation with Drake until her arms around me and leads me back to the sofa.

“Hush, lovey,” she soothes, letting me cuddle into her for support.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask.

She isn’t out right rude to me anymore but she doesn’t normally go out of her way to make me feel like we are friends.

“I see it in your eyes and I trust that,” she murmurs, softly.

“See what,” I sniffle, pulling away from her so I can see her.

“Your loyalty, I trust you will wait for him and be good while you do. He isn’t your typical good guy, anyone looking in from the outside wouldn’t blame you for leaving and moving on but he will always be good to you. This will be harder for him than it will be for you and knowing you’re waiting for him will give him something to come out for. He will keep out of trouble and will do half his sentence, all because of you.”

“It’s taken you six months to see that?”

“If you haven’t noticed lovey, people don’t exactly trust easy around here. Just remember, you will see him every month and he will call every night, and then there are letters. The time won’t be as daunting as you think it will,” she urges.

“And I will be here for you too, if you’re finding it hard come to me and I will try to ease it for you until the next time you see him. You’re not completely alone.”

“Thank you,” I smile, wiping at my eyes, “What did he want to speak to you about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She stands and straightens her skirt and reaches for her coat.

“Oh, he wanted to make sure I’ll still visit his mum and to make sure I’ll look out for you. Which I will, happily.”

“I’d still like to visit her with you, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not, she would have liked you. She would have seen your loyalty to Drake a lot sooner than I did,” she chuckles.

In a small way I take comfort in her words and wish I had met his mother too.

Marg leaves shortly after, saying something about a hot bubble bath and a large glass of wine. I ache for a hot bath but I settle for a shower and climbing into bed, even though it is only seven o’clock in the evening.

I pull one of Drake’s hoodies from the floor on his side of the bed and cover my pillow with it. It’s a little thing but when I close my eyes I let myself imagine he is right beside me.

Part Two

Chapter Ten – August 2004

Drake

Another day beginning with a tasteless breakfast and a coffee that tastes like lukewarm mud. I have survived these atrocities for twenty months now and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t cling to the memories I have knowing how good they can taste outside of these prison walls.

The sun pours through the slit in the wall they call a window and I can feel the morning heat on my legs as I lay on my bunk.

It isn’t long before my peace, as much as I can find in this place, is disturbed. Ash, my cell mate makes his way to his bunk above mine and hangs his head over the edge looking down at me.

“What’s your problem today?” he asks, his face slowly turning a bright shade of red from the blood rushing to his head.

“Same problem as every other day in here,” I murmur, not interested in having this conversation with him again.

“Deveroux, you’ve got post.”

I roll over to face the door and barely have time to catch the envelope that is flying towards me.

I recognise the handwriting immediately. I flip it over and tear open the end and pull out the contents. Cammie’s letters are what get me through this sluggish hell, she fills me in on the most mundane details that we don’t get to cover on the phone or during visits. Even the paper smells like home.

11
th
August 2004                                                                                          

Dear Drake,

I have good news, I doubt you’ll find comfort from hearing it but to me, I am very excited. Lorna finally responded to a letter I wrote and mailed to her parent’s house in case she had moved from her flat in the last two years. We have been speaking on the phone and it’s like we never stopped talking. She’s coming to visit for three days next week! Les says I can have the time off so I’ve been planning. She has never been to London before so I’m going to take her sightseeing and make sure she sees as much as she can while she’s here. I can’t wait to see her again. It’s been so long since I felt like I had a real friend around. Marg has been brilliant and is a lot friendlier towards me, but she feels more like a mother figure than someone I can talk to on a personal level, I used to have that with Lorna and I hope I still do. I suppose I’ll find out next week.

I’m sure you’ll have something to say when you next call but I thought I’d put it in a letter first.

Moving on, I made over eighty pounds in tips this week. Each time this guy came in he would order a breakfast and a pot of tea then leave me a huge tip when he was finished. I thought he was just over the top but apparently I’m still naïve. I didn’t know that he would specifically ask for me to be his waitress and when Marg told Les about him, he had a word in the guy’s ear and told him to leave. He hasn’t been back since, this was three days ago.

He didn’t strike me as a danger but Les and Marg always know more than I do and whatever Les said to him, the guy definitely listened. So I guess I’m asking you, do you know what the guy’s deal is? You’ll have to ask Marg who he is.

Anyway, speaking of Marg. She has met someone. William is a sweet guy. Marg didn’t think so even when he brought her flowers into the café every day. She was horrible to him, I thought she would never give him a chance but all of a sudden he’s all she can talk about. I know he’s treating her well because like I said, he’s all she speaks about, if he wasn’t I’m sure I would have heard about it by now.

I’m happy for her, I truly am, but a part of me can’t help feeling a little jealous. They are still excited about getting to know each other and having fun going on dates, that was taken from us. I know this isn’t what we would have planned and things happen you can’t control but I hate that night that changed everything for us even more when I sit here on my own and you’re in that horrible place. I struggle sometimes to remember a time when you were here with me. It’s funny because I have been living in your flat, sleeping in your bed and living in your world and it’s all been without you. Everyone knows I’m your girlfriend and treats me with respect, because of you. Nobody has forgotten about you, I get asked all the time about you. Most days I don’t mind and other days, I want to throw their drinks over them for reminding me you’re not here to answer for yourself. I find myself getting angry all the time, I miss you so much and being apart this long is driving me crazy. Sometimes it feels like you’re never coming home. I’m sorry if I sound selfish, it is just so hard the longer you are in there. I promise my next letter won’t be so depressing.

All my love, Cammie.

P.S I have taken advantage of your absence and brought new bedding. Your choice of bland, grey sheets was too depressing.

Xxx

“I take it the letter is from your girl? You only get that goofy grin on your mucker for her,” Ash comments, jumping down off his bunk.

“I thought we established we don’t ask each other personal questions?” I mumble.

For months I have tried to train him into keeping his curiosity to a minimum. I have had some annoying cell mates over the years during my different lock ups but none more so than this kid. At twenty-one years old, he looks twelve and acts like a five-year-old most days.

“We’ve been sharing this cell for nine months now, I thought we built a sort of friendship,” he says.

Oh God, I am definitely starting to regret saving his arse the third day he came here. It was plain to see for anyone here that he was petrified from a mile off. He was a sniffling puppy in the middle a hungry pack of wolves chomping at the bit for fresh meat. A couple of inmates began to take advantage of this and I was left listening to him crying into his pillow each night.

Taking him under my wing was purely for selfish reasons just to get some peace of a night but to him, he saw it as a blooming friendship beginning.

“Thinking you have friends in this place will get you used and killed,” I tell him, for the hundredth time.

“It doesn’t matter I suppose, I’ll be out of here in three days,” he grins.

“Thank fuck for that,” I mutter.

I could go easier on the kid but it has been a long nine months in this cell with him continuously chatting away. How I haven’t rammed his head into the brick wall is beyond me.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bunk I stand up and grab my notepad and pen as well as my phone card. I need to call Marg to find who out who this guy is Cam writes about and then I’ll find more peace in the rec room with a bunch of inmates than I will in this cell with only Ash.

For once there isn’t a queue for the phone and I quickly dial the cafes number, Marg will be working and I hope she answers.

My fingers drum the top of the phone booth as I wait for someone to answer.

“Good morning, Les’s Café, Marg speaking.”

I smile briefly listening to her voice change from common to posh whilst she’s on the phone.

“Alright Marg? It’s Drake,” I begin, “Don’t let on that I’m on the phone to you, okay?”

“Okay, how can I help you?” she says, playing along.

“I got a letter from Cam this morning, she’s telling me about a guy who Les had to jog on. Who is it?” I ask.

She goes quiet and I can hear her shuffling around, I hear a door shut and then she speaks, “It was Jerome’s brother, I forget his name but he was taking too much of an interest in Cam so Les had a word. He hasn’t been back, Stan says he hasn’t seen him either.” she says, half speaking and half whispering.

How could I have forgotten about Jerome, the morning I was arrested he was on the news as a captured suspect for the robbery we did in Norwich a few months prior to that. I make a note to ask around to see where he is now. I was never worried he would give our names up, he knows the life and the consequences.

“Why would he be interested in Cam?” I ask.

“Who knows, but don’t go fretting about it. We won’t let anyone near her,” she promises me.

“Let me know if he comes back around.”

“I will, look, I’ve got to go. Les is about to blow out there,” she laughs.

“Alright, speak soon. Just quickly though, how is she today? She sounds down in her letter.”

“She’s doing good today, she’s looking forward to her friend coming and her visit with you at the end of the week.”

“Good, I’ll call you soon,” I tell her.

“Bye Drake.”

I hang up feeling a little better hearing Cammie is happier today.

I exchange the now empty phone card for another and dial Stan’s number. It rings out for four rings before he answers.

“It’s Drake, how’s it going?”

“Good, mate. What you calling for?” he asks.

“You forgot to mention Gerald has been sniffing around Cammie, care to enlighten me?”

The call goes quiet and then he speaks.

“I was going to mention it on the next visit. He’s only been in the café, I tracked him down after Marg told me Les slung him out and he said he’s around for Jerome’s funeral.”

Funeral? When the fuck did he die? Actually, how did he fucking die?

“I saw on the news they got him for a robbery the day I was arrested, how can he be dead?” I ask choosing my words carefully.

“You know he was a pussy, looked like he did the crime but he couldn’t handle the time. They found him hanging in his cell,” he explains.

“Hanging by his own hands or by someone else’s?”

“From his own by what I can gather, Gerald isn’t taking it too well.”

“No, I don’t suppose he is.”

“Everything’s fine, Drake. Don’t worry,” he offers.

“I do nothing but worry about her. How she doing, today?”

“She’s good, she doesn’t really go out much apart from to the café.”

“Why? Has she got anyone going round the flat?”

I feel like a cunt for asking behind her back, but it drives me crazy in here and all sorts run through my head.

Stan’s mocking laugh booms down the phone and I want to punch him.

“No Drake, I don’t know how you managed it but the girl is totally besotted with you. She doesn’t look at other men because she doesn’t see them.”

It shouldn’t but this makes me feel much better.

“Okay, good. I’ll call you later, you still good for our visit next week?”

“Of course.”

“Later.”

I hang up and head for the rec room. Inmates nod and greet me respectively as I make my way to find a quiet spot in the large room. I pick an empty table by the window and begin my reply letter to Cammie.

21st August 2004  

To my Cammie,

To start with, I couldn’t give a fuck if the bedding you choose is covered in fluffy kittens and rainbows, as long as I am the one who is holding you under them.

I don’t like reading how sad you are, it plays on my mind and knowing I can’t do anything to make you smile is frustrating. I’m glad Lorna is coming to see you. I know how much you have missed her. I’m glad because she makes you happy and while I’m unable to do that, I count my blessings that she can. I only worry because I remember how she would leave you to go off with men she hardly knew. I dread to think of her doing that in the middle of London, it is nothing like the town you are both from. As long as you can assure me that you will be safe then I won’t give you a hard time about her.

It’s nice to hear Marg is finally happy with a bloke, she hasn’t mentioned anything about him during our calls so I am assuming she thinks I will have a problem with him, she has been known to over think things in the past.

As far as the guy in the café is concerned, he is an old friend’s brother. He probably knows I’m in here and his tips are his way of trying to make life a bit easier for you. I have looked out for his brother many times and I wouldn’t be surprised if this is his way of trying to make up for it. Les would have moved him on knowing I won’t like another man giving you money while you hate taking mine. It’s fucked up to think that way but it is what it is.

There’s not much to tell you about me this week, life is the same as it was yesterday, last week, last month and last year. The only things that change on a regular basis are my thoughts. I know you don’t like thinking about the reason that put me in here but being in here I have nothing but time to think. All I think about is you and us. Lately I have been thinking about what could have been. I don’t like thinking along those terms because the past can’t be changed so it is pointless rehashing it over and over again. The more I think about it the more the pain and frustration eats at me.

I worked out months ago that our baby would have been born sometime in August last year. For our first year’s anniversary we would have had our first child together. As I sit here writing you this letter he or she (I like to think it would have been a he) would have been celebrating their first birthday this month. I imagine us surrounding a big birthday cake with our son in your arms while we blow out the lonesome candle. We would capture every moment on camera and display them around our home to show him how much we love him. There would be colourful balloons and banners decorating the entire room and more food than we could eat. The day would be filled with love and laughter.