Who's Sorry Now (2008) (37 page)

‘Then come to a meeting.’

 
She looked at him. ‘Maybe I will. When’s the next one? I could perhaps manage to sneak out for the odd evening.’

Jeff told her and Amy began to plot how she might manage to grab herself some time off without alerting Chris’s suspicions.

Strangely, Jeff seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Haven’t you told Chris yet that you’re a member?’

Amy shook her head. ‘He won’t like it. Smacks too much of unions and politics for my lovely, gentle husband, and I’m not anxious for a confrontation on the subject right now. He’s not over-thrilled about my working again so soon, and he’s feeling pretty worn out, what with shouldering the lion’s share of the work at the bakery, and suffering sleepless nights with young Danny here.’

‘You’re going to have to tell him soon, if you want to keep up with your membership. We’ve all sorts of events planned in the coming months, which I’m sure you’d want to be a part of.’

‘Oh, dear, yes I would.’

‘We’ve another march, and a demonstration or two, which will need lots of effort on the fund-raising front. If we are to avoid another war, we can only achieve it by ridding ourselves of the means of fighting one. We need your help, Amy.’

‘I will tell him, Jeff, I promise.’

‘Good girl, and thanks for doing the envelopes.’

‘You could sell fridges to Eskimos, you.’

He laughed. ‘No, it’s just your sweet, generous heart. Thanks, anyway,’ and he ruffled her hair, just as he’d been doing since she was five years old, then gave her a smacking kiss on her cheek and bounded off on his long-legged stride, leaving Amy shaking her head in amused despair. Jeff Stockton was perfect at his job of persuading people to do what they really didn’t have time for. Smiling to herself she pulled her shopping list from her pocket and set off in pursuit of more garibaldi biscuits to yet again restock her poor beleaguered biscuit barrel.

Mavis, standing on the street corner, having witnessed the entire scene, including the kiss the good looking young man had given her daughter-in-law, went on her way frowning. She was quite sure that she’d seen him with Amy before, on a previous occasion. And a mother’s instinct told her that her son knew nothing about him.

Gina’s first day in prison passed in a blur of sirens, women’s voices raised in argument, jeering and shouted orders, the rattle of keys and clanging of doors, endless queuing, and long empty hours alone with her tortured thoughts. Breakfast felt like Bedlam. The noise was deafening, the food uneatable, and underpinning it all, fear etched itself firmly on her soul.
 

Nobody spoke a word to her, except for one old woman who offered to carry her tray when she spotted Gina’s limp.
 

‘The girl can manage well enough on her own, Edith, without you hovering over her,’ one of the prison officers snapped. Her would-be helper was roughly shoved aside and sent to the back of the queue where she was jostled and laughed at by the other prisoners.

Gina didn’t even dare thank her for offering, in case the same thing should happen to her.
 

When she returned to her cell it was to find she had a new cell-mate: a woman twice her age with scrawny yellow hair and a haggard face, who told her she could have the bottom bunk. She said her name was Alice and after learning it was Gina’s first day, warned her never to ask what anyone was in for.

‘My crime was only to steal a few quid to feed my children. I won’t ask you what yours was, so don’t tell me.’

‘I’ve committed no crime. I’ve done nothing.’

‘Course you haven’t, love. You’re innocent, along with seventy-five per cent of the other women in this jail.’

‘Will they realise that in the end, do you think?’ Gina asked, failing to pick up the irony in the woman’s tone.

The woman puffed out her lips, sat up and studied this young girl with closer attention. ‘Why would they care? You’re banged up. Case closed.’

‘No, no, my case still has to come to trial.’

Alice made a little scoffing sound. ‘A mere formality. Best set about learning the ropes, fast as you can, love. Don’t worry, I’ll help you. There’s chores to be done: washing, scrubbing, laundry, stuff like that. Recreation, association, education classes if you’re lucky, and the rest of the time you get to rest in your cell. What joy!’

Gina couldn’t think of a single response to this, or why the woman’s face creased into a happy smile at the prospect of such isolation.

‘Just remember prison isn’t a place to make friends. And don’t step out of line. If anyone tries owt, thumps you or whatever, tell me, not the screws. There’s a pecking order here, and, as a new girl, you’re right at the bottom of the pile. You keep your head down and you’ll be all right. Remember that, if nowt else.’

Gina felt even more muddled and confused by all of this, although it sounded wise advice. She wanted to ask questions but Alice clearly wasn’t for explaining further, not right now, as she turned her face to the wall and went back to sleep.

Gina sat on her own bunk and wondered what she should do next, then realised there was nothing she could do. The empty hours stretched ahead. She could hardly begin to think how she might fill them. She longed to talk to Alice some more, to talk to anyone. The prospect of months and months in this cold cell without even a friend to trust or talk to was very frightening. And sitting in silence was making her head spin.

She hadn’t even been allowed to bring a book with her, or any personal items beyond what she’d happened to be carrying in her bag and they’d taken those from her: her comb, and purse, and keys. Nothing of any importance save for a photo of Luc.

Would they let her have that back? she wondered. Did she want it? Did she still love him after the way he’d betrayed her? She remembered the way he had kissed her at the pictures, her last glimpse of him in the courtroom, the desperation in his dark blue eyes. He’d tried to reach her and a burly policeman had prevented him.

Oh, Luc, how has it come to this?

Tears filled her lovely cinnamon eyes once more. She wondered what her parents were feeling this morning, if Luc was missing her, and, quite unable to help herself, Gina began to weep, wiping her tears and nose with her hands since she couldn’t seem to find a hanky. That must have been in her bag too.

‘Shut yer noise,’ Alice muttered, without moving a muscle. ‘Crying won’t do no good. There’s nobody to hear you, save me, and I couldn’t give a tuppeny damn how miserable you are. Keep your mouth shut, your head down, and do your time, that’s my motto. You’d do well to follow it.’

Carmina began almost at once to plan her wedding. It gave her enormous pleasure to think of her sister sitting in prison, utterly helpless, while she took her rightful place beside the man Gina had tried to steal from her. Serve the selfish little madam right.

Luc seemed slightly bemused by it all, as if he didn’t rightly know what had hit him. He’d soon see which side his bread was buttered on, once they were married. Carmina intended to be a good wife to him, to never let him lift a finger. She’d do anything and everything to make him happy, look after him well and swamp him with love. And she would never let him out of her sight for a minute.

She’d bought herself a ballerina length wedding dress in a lovely floaty tulle, very like the one she once saw at Kendals, but the wedding would have to take place quickly, before she began to show and while she could still squeeze into it. She could feel this baby growing inside her by the day.

‘Do you think it should be a Register Office affair, or dare we ask Father Dimmock to do the honours?’ Carmina asked Luc.

Luc simply gazed at her without speaking.

‘Well, what do you think? We need to call the banns, book the church or whatever, organise a small reception, order flowers from Betty Hemley. Weddings take a deal of organising so what sort would you like?’
 

‘Why would I care, it’s nothing to do with me?’

Carmina let out a dramatic sigh. ‘I can’t get anything out of Momma and Papa either yet decisions need to be made, and soon.’

‘This wedding isn’t ever taking place. We have nothing in common, we don’t love each other and
that child you’re carrying isn’t mine
!’

Carmina laughed as she reached up to kiss his nose. ‘Nobody but you and I knows that for a fact, lover-boy, and I ain’t telling, so stop hankering after Gina and start thinking of the benefits.’ She began to unbutton her blouse to reveal a voluptuous cleavage.

‘Drat you, Carmina! No good will come of your lies, no good at all.’

‘It will, if I want it to. Go on, kiss me, why don’t you?’ She rubbed herself against him like a cat. ‘You know you’re dying to. Don’t you fancy a little taste of what you’ll be getting every night when we’re man and wife? You might as well, since everyone assumes you have already.’

‘You disgust me!’ And Luc walked away while Carmina laughed as if it were all a great joke.

‘Okay, leave the wedding arrangements to me, I’ll organise everything myself. Don’t you worry about a thing.’

‘Please yourself, but just remember the groom won’t even bother to turn up,’ he yelled back at her over his shoulder.

‘Oh, I think he will. You know you want me, Luc, so stop fighting me.’

Amy addressed all the envelopes and put them in the bottom drawer of the big old dresser where Chris wouldn’t find them. She meant to hand them over the very next time she spotted Jeff around the market.
 

She’d been reading an article in the Daily Mail about how the CND intended to ‘empower people to engage actively in the political process and to work for a nuclear-free and peaceful future’. Amy wanted to be empowered. If she had no say over what furniture was put in her own house, how often she fed her baby, or how many hours Danny slept, then why shouldn’t she strive to change the world. It needed changing. Maybe then she and Chris would be able to afford to buy a house of their own.

The next meeting was on Thursday evening at the Friends Meeting House. Maybe she’d go along and deliver the addressed envelopes personally.

When Thursday came, Amy quickly cleared away after supper while Chris was reading the paper, then settled Danny in his cot. She’d already secreted the package of envelopes in her basket, now she placed a minced beef pie on top.

‘I’m just popping round to take this pie to your dad,’ she told Chris. ‘The poor man has to eat. Then I might go and have a chat with Patsy. I should think she’ll be upset over Gina and this shop-lifting charge, and in need of some support right now. You don’t mind holding the fort for a bit, do you?’

Chris put down his paper and pulled his wife onto his knee. ‘Course I don’t. Do you good to get out for a bit and talk to the grown-ups. If his master’s voice pipes up again I’ll give him a bottle, right?’

‘Give him a cuddle first. See if he needs changing, and if all else fails try a spoonful of gripe water. He shouldn’t need feeding till ten and I’ll be back long before then.’

Amy kissed her husband on the lips. ‘Mm, tasty. What a nice mouth you have. I must get reacquainted with it some time.’

‘Mm, I agree,’ Chris said, tightening his arms about her. ‘That’s the problem with babies. They leave you no energy for really important things, like making love.’

Amy giggled. ‘We’ll survive. Things can only get better.’

Chris sighed, rather over-dramatically. ‘You keep saying that. Course, I could always run off with a floosie to satisfy my manly needs.’

‘Don’t you dare. I’d make your life a complete misery if you even considered doing such a dreadful thing.’

‘Oh, good,’ he grinned, kissing her again. ‘Maybe we should try for a lie-in on Sunday, if Danny Boy will let us. And we can stay awake, that is.’

‘Ooh, yes please. We could stay in bed all day, catch up on our rest, and other things. Only we’d have to lock the door against your mother. She’d be sure to pop in just as we were getting going.’

Chris nuzzled into her neck. ‘I’ll tell her we’re going out for the day.’

Amy giggled. ‘She’d still come round, just to check, and she’d see the lights on, or hear the radio playing.’

‘We won’t need any lights, and we’d be quiet as little mice. Then I shall have my wicked way with you. You could wear your black lace nightie, the one I bought you for Christmas.’

‘Now you’re letting your imagination run away with you, and this pie is getting cold. Let me go, there’s a good lad. These manly needs of yours will have to wait till Sunday.’

He groaned, but allowed her to slip from his knee.

Thomas was grateful for the pie and gave her a few tomatoes, a lettuce and a bunch of radishes in exchange. But Amy went nowhere near Number 22 to see Patsy. Keeping to the back alleys she headed straight to the Friends Meeting House and the CND meeting.

The letter addressed to Chris arrived one morning while he was at the bakery. Amy thought nothing of it, propping it against their wedding picture on the dresser so that he’d see it when he came home. True, he didn’t get many letters and she was curious, but Amy wasn’t the kind of wife to steam open her husband’s correspondence.

The moment their evening meal was cleared away, she gave it to him while she fetched a jug of hot water to fill the bath for Danny.