The Jump (11 page)

As she shut the door behind her, she heard the hearty sigh of a man relieved of a great burden.

Donald Lewis watched as Georgio played football. He was now on the five-a-side team and they were practising for their Saturday afternoon match against B Wing. The score was a forgone conclusion; the A grade prisoners always won, even against the screws.

‘Is it my imagination or is Brunos getting cocky?’ Wally Wagstaff spoke out of the side of his mouth; only Lewis was aware of what he was saying.

‘He is cocky, Wally. That’s his problem. It’ll always be his problem. He don’t know when to shut his great big trap.’

Wally scratched his large beer belly. ‘Want me to have a little reception committee waiting for him in his cell?’

‘Nah. That’s something I’m saving for when the time is more appropriate. Then I’m going to break his balls with my bare hands.’ Lewis’s voice became confidential. ‘You see, Wally, the thing with Brunos is, he’s big, handsome and clever. Three things guaranteed to get on my tits, so to speak. I have a little fright lined up for his nearest and dearest. That should guarantee our Georgie boy a loosening of the tongue, because if I don’t find out what I need to know, and soon, he’s going to be in big trouble. I can afford to write off the money, easy as pie. It’s pennies and halfpennies to me. It’s the principle of the thing, see? Georgio took the piss. I don’t like people who take the piss out of me.’

Wally nodded his bald head sagely. ‘I get your drift, Mr Lewis.’

Lewis turned on the man and sneered into his face. ‘I couldn’t give two fucks whether you get it or not, mate. You’re like Georgio, you’re just another ponce.’ His tone was becoming agitated and Wally began to feel nervous.

‘Shall I fuck off, Mr Lewis?’

Donald grinned. ‘Nah! You stay put. I often get a little annoyed, you know. I don’t mean nothing by it.’

Wally relaxed in his seat. ‘I don’t mind, Mr Lewis. I know you don’t mean it.’ He smiled widely at the man beside him.

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them Lewis frowned. ‘Oh I meant what I said, Wally. You are a ponce. But at the moment that fact isn’t bothering me. I’ll let you know when it does.’

He turned his attention back to the pitch. Georgio scored a goal and everyone cheered. Lewis bit his lip in consternation. Trust Brunos to be the one to do that.

Lewis’s posse was silent at the goal and that pleased him. He liked being in control of things. At the moment he wasn’t in control of Georgio Brunos, and that fact dismayed and aggrieved him. But after his little wife had had a visit from a mutual friend, he was sure Georgio would open up. Once he told Lewis where the money was, and once the money had been recovered, it would be goodbye Georgio.

Lewis smiled at the thought.

Timmy Lambert watched the conversation between Lewis and Wally with interest. He sat across the football pitch from them, but could see them both clearly. Beside him sat Sadie Gold, real name Albert Moore. Sadie was wearing blue eyeshadow, brown mascara and bright red lipstick. His prison shirt was tied under his chest and his jeans were decorated with embroidered flowers. His dark hair was showing an inch of white roots, but it was backcombed out and lacquered.

Timmy and Sadie were an item in the prison. Sadie kept herself to herself and didn’t run around on Timmy, and everyone kept out of their way. Lewis had countenanced the relationship. Being homosexual himself, he wasn’t shocked by it. Some of the younger men were disgusted, shocked, or found it highly amusing. In different circumstances they might have taken pleasure in baiting Sadie. But this was Lewis’s wing and so it was accepted and the two were left in peace. Not many would have taken on Timmy Lambert anyway; Sadie, however, was a different ballgame. They might have approached her for oral or anal sex when the need grew strong, but as it was she was left in relative peace.

Sadie enjoyed being looked after by Timmy; it helped her to do her time, allowed her a modicum of respect and guaranteed her a bit of peace. Sadie had murdered a customer while under the influence of barbiturates and alcohol. Her plea of self-defence might have been taken seriously had not the punter been a famous playwright noted for stunning dialogue and lovingly crafted screenplays about heterosexual relationships and the trials of adolescent first love. Sadie had been sentenced amid a blaze of public outcry and media attention.

What no one knew about Sadie though was that until the age of

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sixteen she had been deaf. After an operation that gave her back fifty per cent of her hearing, Sadie still lipread when talking to people. She was now taking in Lewis’s conversation with Wally and relaying it back to Timmy, word for word.

Timmy’s attitude was that Lewis was a man you’d best be a jump ahead of - two jumps if possible. He had no intention of warning Brunos about the attack intended for his wife - that was between him and Lewis - but if the latter had any intention of firing the cell, smoking it, or leaving a welcoming committee, then Timmy wanted to know. It was hard enough doing your time without the added hag of someone else’s troubles landing on your doorstep, so to speak.

He gently put his arm across Sadie’s shoulders. ‘Well done, Sadie, me old meat pie. You keep your eye out and about for any titbits you think might be of interest to me.’

She smiled up into Timmy’s moon face. ‘Fancy going back to my cell for a while? We’ll have a bit of time to ourselves before the others come in.’

Timmy nodded and the two strolled back inside arm in arm. The screws watched them with amusement. In all truth they should cell them up together, but it was much more fun watching their furtive attempts at sex in odd places and at odd times.

It took the monotony out of the days, and God knew, that in itself was enough of a reason to keep the lovers apart for a while longer.

Georgio was reading a letter from Donna. He smiled to himself as she filled him in on her days. He felt much more relaxed now that Davey and Stephen had taken over the running of the main businesses. He was amazed, though, at how effectively Donna had slipped on the mantle of boss on the sites. Davey had told him how well she was doing. Even Big Paddy Donovon had been impressed with how quickly she had caught on. Georgio looked once more at the photographs Donna had sent in. They were from a holiday they had taken in Barbados a few years previously. Donna, tanned and lithe in a yellow bikini, looked good enough to eat. Another taken in St Tropez showed her topless, eating a large French gfiteau. He had expressly asked for that photo. It had really turned him on that day, watching the fresh cream melting on her little breasts. He felt a stirring inside himself and put the photographs on the table.

Timmy laughed. ‘Got the horn, Brunos? Tell them to put more bromide in your tea, mate!’

Georgio laughed back good-naturedly. ‘You’re a dirty-minded swine, Timmy. Not everyone’s got your taste in women so some of us have to do without.’

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them ‘Gissa look at the photos then. I promise I won’t get the horn. I’m interested to see what your old woman looks hire.’

Georgio sorted through the photos and found one of Donna in a sundress in their garden, her face glowing with good health and happiness. He passed it to Timmy who took it in his meaty paw and smiled widely.

‘Crikey, she’s a lovely little thing, ain’t she?’ His voice held genuine admiration.

Georgio was pleased at the other man’s reaction. ‘Yes she is, Timmy, and I’m not just saying that either. She’s a decent type of woman, you know. Respectable. Well-spoken, well-educated and everything. She took an Open University degree, got it and all. In Sociology.’

Timmy was doubly impressed. ‘Brains as well as beauty, eh? Lucky bastard. My wife looks like the back of a number nine bus. Her arse is so big she wouldn’t get in the cell door! Mind you, she’s never done the dirty on me to my knowledge, and even though she’s ugly as sin there’s blokes out there who’d fuck their own grandmothers if it was dark enough.’

Georgio nodded at the truth of the statement. Most men’s biggest fear in prison was who was in their bed at home. A majority of them knew that someone was keeping the old woman company. It was whether or not the wife would want that man permanently that bothered them. If you lost the wife, you lost access to the kids. A love poem in a prison was eagerly bought for precious cigarettes and lovingly copied out in the next letter home. Most of the prisoners’ wives were courted only when their husbands were inside. Their idea of romance was a poem, a promise of love everlasting, and an oath that the old man was reformed. Most took this for what it was worth; others lived their whole married life in hope.

‘My Donna’s a quiet type, you know. Not one of these chatty women. She was an asset to me, in my business and that. She could arrange a dinner party as good as anything you’d get in Kensington Palace. Knew what to wear, what to say, how to conduct herself. An all-rounder, was my Donna.’

Timmy studied the photograph again as Sadie walked into the cell.

‘I just came to say goodnight, lads. Oh, photos! Let’s have a butchers.’

Timmy handed her the photograph and she smiled happily.

‘Now that’s what I call a beautiful woman.’ This was spoken with a friendly envy. ‘Look at that hair and those eyes! Who is it?’

‘That’s Georgio’s little wife,’ Timmy muttered.

‘I thought it was your daughter, Georgio - no offence meant, like.’

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Georgio grinned. ‘None taken, Sadie. She looks young in that one. I’d better get meself down to the bathroom and clean me teeth before lockup. Do me a favour, Sadie, talk this bloke of yours into having a bath, would you? He don’t half pen and ink.’

Sadie chuckled. ‘Tell me about it!’

Timmy laughed good-naturedly. ‘I smell like a man, you cheeky beggars.’

‘Yeah, a man that’s been dead a fortnight.’ Sadie rolled her eyes.

Georgio was still laughing as he entered the shower-room. As he turned on the tap Sadie sidled up to him.

‘Listen, Georgio, don’t ask me how I know this, and don’t repeat it to a living soul or we’ll all live to regret it, but I heard a whisper today that your wife has a little surprise waiting for her, courtesy of Lewis. Warn her well.’

Georgio felt faint at the words. He grabbed at Sadie’s nightdress. ‘You what? How do you know this?’

Sadie looked into his worried eyes and shook her head. ‘I heard it through the grapevine. She looks a nice little body and I don’t want to see her get hurt. Just remember to warn her, or get someone to watch out for her. But whatever you do, don’t let on I told you or I won’t be able to get any more information on anything. Most of all, don’t tell Timmy I said anything, OK?’

‘When is this surprise?’

Sadie shrugged. That I don’t know, mate, I swear. I’m only telling you because, for all my faults, I like people to play fair, know what I mean?’ She left the shower room as quietly as she had entered it.

Georgio stood under the freezing shower and felt the prickle of tears. The surprise could be tonight. As he stood under the shower his Donna could be getting a hiding, being raped or tortured. He felt panic welling up inside and he willed it to subside, leave him in peace. But the pictures in his head grew stronger and more vivid.

He was stuck in Maximum Security and his wife, his little Donna, could be gasping her last breath. The futility of his situation was the hardest to bear - that he could do nothing, nothing at all. He clenched his hands into fists and began beating the tiled wall, blood soon running from his knuckles and mixing with the water, trickling in crimson rivulets down the drain.

One word was going over and over in his mind: Donna. Donna. Donna.

If only he could reach out to her with his mind, could warn her in some way.

Two wardens pulled him from the shower and Georgio began fighting with them. Between them they eventually overpowered him

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them and marched him to the Punishment Block. Thrown into the damp cell, naked, he slid down the wall and cried bitter tears into his hands.

He was still only capable of one word, and that was whispered brokenly in the gloom.

‘Donna..’

If anything happened to her he would kill Lewis with his bare hands. Georgio stared around the cell like a caged annual. Lewis was a big man - the biggest, in fact - but he, Georgio Brunos, would outwit the bastard. If it was the last thing he did, he’d outwit him.

This was personal now.

It didn’t cross Georgio’s mind to inform the police about Lewis because he knew it would gain him nothing. He had no proof, only the word of a transvestite murderer.

But he swore he would get the better of Lewis. Somehow, someday, he would get the better of him. He sat up all night with pictures in his head of Donna and what could be happening to her even as he was slumped there.

He walked out of the cell the next day a changed man.

More than one person remarked on it.

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Chapter Six

Like Donald Lewis, Frankie White was a big man in personality, and in reputation. His first prison sentence had been when he was twenty-one; he had received ten years for attempted murder and aggravated assault. Frankie had beaten his wife’s boyfriend half to death and was in the process of doing the same thing to her when the police had interrupted him. One punch to his wife’s boyfriend had been so hard it had forced his ribs through his heart. Only the intervention of a skilled surgeon had saved the man, who now lived in a one-bedroomed council flat in Poplar, unable to climb stairs or couple with a woman, as the jealous husband had also stamped repeatedly on his groin. Frankie’s first wife had disappeared without a trace.

Ffankie had gone to prison a hero, and left it seven years later a villain. Since then he had been involved in many nefarious dealings: had financed a night club, a building consortium, and betting shops. He was married now, aged forty-three, to a twenty-sixyear-old woman who had produced three children in rapid succession. His , children were his life, his reason for living. At an age when most of his contemporaries were looking forward to grandchildren, and were still financing their own children, Frankie White had only just realised the real depth of feeling that fatherhood gave him.

A known ‘face’, he could put up his hand to many illegal acts: armed robbery, GBH, and extortion to name but a few …

As he walked in his garden with his small son, Frankie Junior, he smiled at the antics of his daughters. Liselle at five was a real live wire. Unfortunately she had inherited his hooked nose, but Frankie was determined to disguise his mother’s Jewish ancestry the moment the girl was old enough for plastic surgery. Desdemona, his three year old, was her mother’s double, a blonde bimbette with a face like an angel and a voice like a navvy. He watched the two of them running towards the swimming pool and grinned. Frankie Junior, all of ten months, grinned with him. A large-boned amiable child, Frankie adored him.

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them As the girls slipped off their robes, Frankie saw the masked man in the bushes to the left side of the pool. His mind registered the gun, and his arms tightened on his son instinctively. Liselle screamed loudly in the quiet of the day as the man opened fire, and in stunned disbelief Frankie felt the cold heat of the bullets as they rained across his body and that of his infant son. Even as he fell to the ground, in the throes of death, he was still trying to. protect his son. As he hit the earth with a heavy thud, his last sight was of his son’s staring face. The cheerful, gummy smile still intact. But all trace of life gone.

Tracey White was shopping in East Ham market with her sister Sandra when the police found her. She listened in stunned disbelief to what her mother and the policeman were telling her.

Her only words were: ‘But we live in Surrey. How could that happen in Surrey?’

No one as yet had the nerve to tell her about the death of her baby son.

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