1995
Pete Jones was just going out into the prison exercise yard, lined up with a load of other cons, all jostling each other, talking, telling jokes, taking the piss, all of them waiting for the gates to be opened.
He’d been handed down a twelve-year stretch for doing Dolly Farrell, but he reckoned he’d be out in eight and it was worth it because he’d done it, he’d got even with that bitch for what she’d done to his family. He’d loved his mum, couldn’t ever get over losing her. And Grandpa, his death had been for what? Just so some vicious cow could get her revenge on someone. None of it should ever have touched his family, but it had, and he was glad he’d made her pay the price for that.
The sun was shining. He couldn’t wait to get out in the yard, kick a ball about, stretch his legs. Stir wasn’t so bad, once you got used to it. Bit rough, and you had to watch out for the queers after a slice of your arse in the showers, but not too bad. No cats, though. He missed Benj, but Benj was all right, Dad was looking after him. He was sorry about this prison business for Dad’s sake. But he’d get out, make it up to him. Put all this shit behind the both of them.
Then someone shoved him from behind. He turned.
‘Easy,’ he complained, seeing a hard, dark-eyed face close to his own.
‘This is for Dolly Farrell,’ said the man, and plunged a knife straight into Pete Jones’s heart.
He died instantly, collapsing to the ground, an image of Benj the last thing he thought of before he kissed goodbye to this world and headed for the next. His murderer moved on, and was quickly lost in the crowd of other cons.
Later that day, one of the cons made a call out to a mate.
‘It’s sorted,’ he said, and put the phone down.
The man he’d phoned went out, down the pub, saw another man. ‘It’s sorted,’ he said.
Next day, Steve Taylor made a call to Barbados. When Annie Carter came on the line, he said: ‘Hiya, Mrs C. Tell Max that business he wanted seeing to? It’s done.’
Annie was silent for a moment. Then she said: ‘I’ll tell him.’
She put the phone down, looked out of the big picture window of the villa at the crystal-blue Caribbean and the azure of the cloudless sky above it, and thought, There you go, Doll. Hope you’re safe in heaven now, babe, with the angels.
Then with a light step she walked out on to the sunlit terrace to join Max.