his brother’s backs in Belmarsh, he was sure O’Hara could find somebody to get to them. The question was, could Eddie order his own brothers’ death sentences? He was temporarily saved from feeling like an executioner by the shrill ring of his phone.
‘Ed, it’s Pat. Just a quick call to let you know that Jimmy’s home. They’re all back, including Jed and your grandkids. Apparently they’d spent the week with poor Marky’s wife and kids.’
‘Did you tell Jimmy that I wanna speak to him, Pat?’
‘No. To be honest, I don’t really want to get involved, mate. It’s awkward, because I’m friends with the both of yous. Having said that, I do think you need to sort it, Ed. I know you’re no man’s fool, but if I was you I’d get this shit sorted fast. Jimmy ain’t a man to be messed with, you know.’
Eddie ended the call and sat back down at the kitchen table. He could sense the threat in Pat Murphy’s voice: O’Hara had said something to him, that part was obvious. Furious with the decision he was now faced with, Ed slammed his glass down so hard that it shattered into pieces. The O’Haras were the bane of his life and he would never be truly happy until they were all dead.
Over in the maternity wing in Holloway, Frankie and Babs were getting along rather well. Frankie had been suspicious of Babs’ warm welcome at first, but the more she’d chatted to her, the more her earlier distrust had evaporated. Babs was six months into her pregnancy and, like Frankie, she was also the mother of two other children, a boy and a girl. The only subject they hadn’t yet discussed was how they’d both come to end up in prison. Frankie was the first to broach the subject.
‘So when is your court case, Babs? And how long have you actually been in Holloway?’
‘My trial is probably next year sometime. I’ve been in here four months, but I know I’m gonna get life.’
Frankie was gobsmacked. Babs seemed so nice, but she must have done something really bad to be looking at life. Sensing Frankie’s reluctance to ask her what she’d done, Babs started to open up. In the four months she had already spent in Holloway, she had never really talked about her crime. The other inmates all knew what she’d been charged with, but nobody knew why she had done it. Her usually bubbly expression disappeared and was instantly replaced by a look of sadness.
‘My first boyfriend, Dennis, was a bastard to me. He’s the father of my daughter, Matilda, and I met him when I was fifteen. As soon as I fell pregnant, the beatings started. He nearly killed me one time; pushed me down some concrete stairs and I was in hospital for nearly two month. He was Jamaican, like me, and involved with the Yardies, into drugs, prostitution, the works. Once he even made me sleep with a mate of his while he filmed it.’
‘Oh my God, that’s awful,’ Frankie said, shocked.
Months of not speaking about what had happened came bubbling to the surface and Babs was determined to share her burden with Frankie.
‘That’s nothing compared to what happened next. I contacted one of those women’s refuge places and they were brilliant. They put me in one of their safe houses and me and Matilda were so happy until Dennis turned up one day and set fire to the place with us inside. We managed to escape through a back window, but it were such an awful experience, Frankie. Even to this day, a whiff of smoke is enough to frighten the living daylights out of me.
‘The police never caught Dennis: he went on the run, and he knew the right people to protect him. Me and Matilda got moved again, this time to Surrey, but I could never say we were happy there. I used to sit in the dark most nights in case Dennis had found out where we were. Then, one fine day, a copper knocked at the door. Dennis had been found dead on the streets of Brixton. He’d OD’d on drugs, crack cocaine, and the police reckon he’d died in a house or flat and had been dumped on the pavement after his death. I was so happy. All I wanted was to move back near my family and friends, but Dennis dying just seemed too good to be true. I insisted on viewing his body – I needed to know it was definitely him – and when I saw his evil face in that morgue, I danced for joy, as I was finally free.’
‘So, how did you end up in here? The police didn’t accuse you of injecting him or something, did they?’
Babs shook her head. ‘Dennis died over ten years ago and I vowed never to get involved with any other man, but I was desperate for a brother or sister for Matilda, so I had a fling until I got what I wanted. Jordan’s dad was a guy called Brandon. I barely knew him, and I never told him Jordan were his son. He seemed an OK sort of dude, but he lived with a girl. I doubt he would have been happy about it, as I’d told him I was on the pill. Me and the kids were then given a council house in Streatham and that was the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. There was a park nearby and because I never had much money, I used to buy a cheap loaf of bread and take the kids there to feed the ducks. Then one day I got talking to this guy. I’d seen him there before and he seemed so nice. He was great with the kids, especially Jordan.’
When Babs began to cry, Frankie sat on the bunk next to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. ‘If it’s too upsetting for you, don’t tell me any more,’ Frankie whispered.
‘I want to. I need to tell someone,’ Babs sobbed.
Trying her hardest to pull herself together, Babs continued her story. ‘Unlike all my ex-boyfriends, Peter was a white dude. He was a bus driver and seemed such a kind, honest, down-to-earth person. I didn’t rush into anything. I met him loads of times at the park before I agreed to go out on a date with him.’
‘Ssh, it’s OK. He can’t hurt you no more, nobody can,’ Frankie soothed, as Babs began to cry once again.
‘I went out with Peter a whole year before I let him move in with me. He’d play football with Jordan, help Matilda with her homework, he seemed like the ideal stepfather. Then one day I was meant to be taking Jordan to his friend’s birthday party. Peter had offered to look after Matilda and I told him I’d be back in a couple of hours. When I got to the party, they’d had to cancel it because the child’s grandma had died suddenly. Jordan was upset, so I said we’d go home and Peter would take us all to the Wimpy. As I opened the front door, I could hear Matilda crying. I thought she’d fallen over and hurt herself, but as I listened more carefully I realised it was something much worse. “Please stop, Peter, you’re hurting me,” she was pleading. Twelve years old, that’s all she was.’
‘Oh my God,’ Frankie whispered. She had guessed what was coming next.
‘I told Jordan to be quiet and sit in the living room, then I took the dagger out of the drawer. It had once belonged to Dennis, but I had always kept it after I split up with him, as it made me feel safe. I crept upstairs and saw the bastard with my own eyes. Matilda was naked from the waist downwards and Peter was raping her. I tiptoed into the room and then I stabbed him in the back over and over again, until the breath and blood seeped out of him.’
Frankie was crying herself now. She thought she’d had it tough with Jed, but it was nothing compared to what poor Babs had been through. ‘You won’t get life. If you tell the jury the truth, they’ll let you off, I know they will.’
‘I can’t. Apart from you, I’ve told nobody. I told the solicitor I killed Peter because he used to beat me up.’
A good judge of character, Frankie now decided that Babs was the real deal, totally genuine. She urged her to listen to what she had to say. ‘I’ll have a word with my dad if you like. He’ll find you a good brief to represent you. Babs, you must tell the truth for the sake of your children. I know your mum is looking after them, but they need you, especially
