A Sense

of
freedom ISBN: 9781311076953

A Sense of Freedom
Copyright: David William Kirby: 2015 edition
The Dogbreaths Publishing

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 Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The contents of this MMS are based on real

events. The character names and some locations
have been changed to ensure confidentiality.
Timescales have been adjusted for the narrative.

This manuscript does not condone the breaking of

any laws or seek to justify criminal behaviour.
It is purely a record of events.

Written by
David W. Kirby
Copyright © David William Kirby 1988
dwkthedogbreaths@gmail.com

A Sense Of Freedom
Please see Appendix 1 (at the rear of this MMS)
for a guide to the East-London slang used.
CHAPTER ONE

The wind blew cold against the dirty windowpane

as she lay still in the warm bed. She could hear
the sound of children playing in the next room.
Kelly wondered what could be so entertaining for
them on such a miserable day although the sound
of her children playing made her feel slightly
happier.

Her back ached, her legs throbbed and she had

sudden, involuntary twitches that made the snot
from her nose dribble down her chin. Kelly was
twenty-two but felt like an arthritic old woman
this morning; just like every other morning for
the past two years.

For a moment Kelly thought about her life. She

was still youthful looking despite the troubles
shed had with men and being a single parent of
twin boys. Her husband was two years into a ten-
year sentence for robbery and this situation had
caused a lot of hardship.

Kelly bit her bottom lip anxiously thinking about

Peter, her husband. He used to be “a nice bloke”,
someone she could rely upon although that soon
changed once the poison had set in.

The poison had made him self-centred, selfish and

this had led to his imprisonment. She wasn’t
using it herself when they first married. That
only happened after he had been arrested.

Married for only a month and eight and a half

months pregnant when the police had kicked the
door in; she last saw Peter, being carted away in
handcuffs.

She had known that he was doing robberies, of

course, not that they ever had any money back
then. It either went on gambling or up his arm in
a syringe. She”d never considered getting
arrested herself because she hadn’t been involved
in the crimes; except to spend the money. So when
it happened it was all a bit shocking.

The police were brutal after they had burst in,

guns were forced into her face and the flat had
been ransacked. Kelly had never had any dealings
with the police before, especially Special Branch
and was scared out of her wits. She had grown up
a lot in the two years from then till now.

After he had gone the local heroin dealers preyed

her upon. The poison was cheap and gave instant
relief, instant thrills and security to a young
girl trying to get by on her own. She had not
even known it was heroin, they called it Brown or
Smack or even Naughty but never heroin. Perhaps
if they had she may have not tried it.

Everyone had heard horror stories about heroin

but never smack, never brown, never the naughty.
When it was offered it just seemed exotic,
something different; something exciting.

They had given her a smoke here and there; for

old times sake. She was the wife of a friend who
had gone away and needed some help. So it was
free until she had the makings of a habit, after
that she had to pay.

To begin with five pounds every few days was all

it cost to blot out the problems of living on an
inner city sink-estate that had damp in the
bathroom and roaches everywhere else. Then it
became five pounds a day, then ten and before she
realised she had to find twenty every day.

She was tight within its grasp now and if she

stopped using she was in utter hell for weeks.
She had tried, when the money had run out but the
withdrawal had been so intense and lasted so
long, as soon as she got some money she was
phoning a dealer and scoring.

She needed it just to function daily, to cope

with the children, cope with the piss in the
elevator; she needed it for whatever reason she
could think of. Any excuse would do, just so long
as she had money and it was available, she had to
use the stuff.

Kelly looked at the crumpled lump beside her and

felt Trevor move slightly under the stained
bedclothes. His body felt warm against her cold
feet and his breathing was laboured; condensing
on the cold air like steam rising from the
blankets.

Whatever would she have done if Trevor was not

with her, she thought. The Benefits Agency had
stopped paying her because she had fraudulently
claimed milk twice in one week. As if they, she
remembered, would miss one pint of milk.

But while the fraud was being investigated she

and the twins had had no money and without any
family to rely on, it was tough.

No money for food, no electricity, no nursery

fees and no heating. Kelly spent a couple of days
in the benefits office because it was warmer than
staying at home and had been told
“We’re making enquiries.” By the fat woman behind
the reinforced glass, she didn’t seem to get the
fact that the children were cold and hungry.

Trevor had saved them. He had arrived in a stolen

motorcar, wearing stolen designer sunglasses,
expensive shoes and with a pocket of stolen gold.
“Can you get rid of it babe?” he asked pulling
out a long belcher chain.
“I’ll sort you out a drink.”

Kelly still had the number of Peters old friends

who were in the market for anything of value, for
a price, so she jumped at the offer; soon after
he had moved into her small, two bedrooms flat
and into her bed.

Trevor was cunning, sly and quick tempered, she

was shrewd but vulnerable. She needed money to
support her habit and feed the children; he
needed a place to stay and the love of a woman.

They fitted together like a badly made jigsaw and

very soon he was using too. They were both
dependents, dependent on heroin and dependent
upon each other.

Kelly sat up and dragged a towel from the bare

floor and wrapped it across her shoulders. She
felt Trevor’s hand crawl up her leg and come to a
rest by the elasticised leg of her panties. He
moved his body closer and she felt his hard cock
bush against her leg; morning wood, he called it.

She loved the attention and his warm body close

to hers, it made her feel wanted. Sex could
sometimes be brutal with Trevor as he seldom
understood his own strength and her fragility;
but she went there with him willingly,
frequently.
She wondered sometimes when she felt depressed or
unlovable why she felt so good with him because,
in a strange way, she hated him. Then she put
these feelings down to the fact that her period
cycle had stopped, her hormonal imbalance; ever
since she started using gear.

Normally she would slide under the bedclothes and

greet him with a private caress but not today;
something was more important than his morning
wood.

She reached under the bed and blindly felt

around. It was exactly where she had left it the
evening before, a small white paper fold, a thin
tube of foil and a square of foil four inches
wide and six long. She positioned the foil on her
lap and placed the tube between her lips like a
cigarette.

Opening the paper fold was a ritual that gave her

mind, body and soul some relief. After a night of
restful sleep she always woke with a craving for
more of the drug; her body whimpered for it;
moaned for it. Like a hungry dog it yapped for
attention. Mornings for a junkie begin after the
dog had been fed.

The soft brown golden powder made her eyes smile.

Kelly’s jaw dropped slightly and a clear trail of
morning mucus ran from her nose like a dewdrop.
There was more in the packet then she had
realised and this made her feel happy,

Kelly poured half the powder onto the foil and

folded the wrap back up. She glanced around the
floor for a lighter and when she held a flame
held under the powder and foil a fine mist rose
up through the tube.

When her lungs were full Kelly held her breath

and examined the congealed blob of sticky brown
heroin and the dark trail it had left on the
foil. She exhaled and sighed.
“Give me a smoke.” Trevor exclaimed sitting up
sharply.

Kelly noticed his erection had disappeared.

“Hang on…” she said taking another breath of the
fumes. “I’ve only had one run.”

Again she struck up the lighter and used the foil

tube to follow the brown blob, which had the
consistency of toffee, down the foil. Gradually
the pain in her back subsided, her runny nose
dried and she closed her eyelids over pinpoint
pupils.

Her mind drifted into the murky mists and vomit

inducing vapours. Kelly always enjoyed that first
smoke of the day. She more than enjoyed it, she
loved it. The girl made a point of never going to
sleep at night unless she had a bag to awake to.
Nothing was worse than getting up in the morning
sick.

The sickness would get worse as the day

progressed, as she dressed the kids, as she made
them breakfast, as she got them to nursery and
then out looking for a dealer. The withdrawal was
like being eaten alive. Hell on two legs is a
junkie with no dope in the morning.

The noise from the children playing on the other

side of the paper-thin walls faded into the drone
of early morning traffic outside as she slipped
into the numb totality of heroin”s embrace.

“It’s burnt up.” Trevor moaned indignantly as he

crumpled the foil and threw it out of the bed in
disgust. She opened one eye and looked at him.
“Well, I need it more then you.” She coughed and
opened the foil tube to see if any had collected
inside it. “Let me get the kids off to nursery
and we can do what’s left when I get back.”

The tube was empty so she dropped it on the floor

and kicked her feet out of bed. The room was
freezing making her breath condensate into thick
white clouds as she dragged on a dressing gown.
“Come on babe.” Trevor moaned. “I’m still sick.”
He sniffed loudly as if to underline the
statement.
“I only had two runs, let’s do what’s left.”

“Oh, for Christ”s sake...” She snapped lighting a

cigarette. A greasy strand of hair fell over her
face and she pushed it back before asking.
“How much money have we got left?”
“A score.” Trevor replied. “Twenty quid.”

“That'll go no-where.” She replied. “We need some

shopping, I owe the nursery eight quid…”
“Hang on!” Trevor interjected pulling his jeans
over his skinny legs. “If we get a cab to the
nursery, pay them their eight quid we can get a
ten pound bag on the way back.”

“What about the shopping?” she replied pulling

some odd socks over her cold feet. “There's
nothing here, no milk, sugar, tea bags, bread;
nothing. It's bad enough these kids are going out
with nothing to eat but they got to have
something when they get in.”

“For fucksake.” Trevor spat. “We have to get some

dough together anyway. We'll think about the
shopping later when we sorted some money out.”
Kelly thought about this and sighed, she didn't
know where they would get money from but Trevor
had not let her down in the past. He could
normally sort something out.

“Where is it?” Trevor asked pulling on a tee

shirt.
“What?”
“The rest of the gear?” He stated with a sniff.
“Where is it?”
“If I get it…” she replied. “I want to do the
first hit.”
Mornings at Kelly's flat were mostly the same, a
cross between organised chaos and make do and
mend. After her first hit Kelly would go to the
lavatory. Sitting for a moment contemplating the
colour of her piss and the absence of her period.

This gave her the opportunity to look through the

open door down the hall and into the kitchen to
see what mess the kids had made. There would
always be a number of toys scattered here and
there with the odd drawing, books and whatever
else had attracted their interest since they
awoke.

The kitchen cupboards had long since been secured

with bolts to stop the boys smashing crockery or
wasting cereal if there were any left. She once
found them emptying cornflakes out the window
with the milk to feed the birds, so they said
and she had to take some time to explain why this
wasn't a good idea.

After her toilet Kelly would call the twins and

drag a wet cloth over their faces, change their
diapers and dress them in clean clothing. If
there was some bread shed give them some toast
and get their coats and shoes on.
“Trevor?” she called for the second time as she
put her own coat on over a thin shirt and jeans.

The radio was on in the background giving endless

messages about traffic and the time over a bland
backdrop of pop music. The children were snug and
warm in the coats and scarves when she heard that
it was nearly nine in the morning.
Trevor?” she shouted again. “Where are you?”

“Okay, okay I'm ready.” He said joining her at

the door as she placed the kids into their buggy.
He did up his fly and patted down his hair as she
opened the front door and wrestled the buggy
outside into the hall.
It was damp and dark still as they waited for the
elevator on the graffiti covered landing. When it
arrived and the door slid open the stench of
urine hit them in the faces as the small group
entered trying to avoid the large puddle on the
floor.

A quick minicab ride to the nursery where the

children were delivered to a smiling worker also
took them to Ray's house.

Ray lived in a small, square council property,

which had rotting window frames and cobwebs
around the street door. This faced a busy
motorway and the sound of speeding traffic
covered the hard rapping from his visitors.

After several knocks a curtain by the door was

lifted slightly and Ray’s face appeared behind
the dirty glass. Once he recognised who was
knocking several bolts were withdrawn and the
door was cautiously opened.

Ray always looked over his visitor's shoulders

across the motorway and then in either direction
to ensure no one had observed his them coming. He
then ushered them inside and bolted the door
behind them.

Ray liked cats and the house was a shrine to

feline beauty and charm. In other words the whole
place was covered in cat hairs, fleas and stunk
of piss. A small entrance hall with a threadbare
carpet led to a small square room, which had a
threadbare sofa, a ripped and stained easy chair
around a blazing fire that lit the room in an
orange glow.

A set of dusty shelves was decorated with nick-

nacks and odds and ends, of which Ray had many.
The cobwebs and dust collected around the books
and papers and chipped china statues of cats,
which accumulated in every corner. Ray sat at a
chair beside a table making one of his five cats
scream and jump into the air.
“Watch out moggie.” He laughed.

Kelly looked at a yellowing poster of Jimi

Hendrex, which hung on one wall and smiled,
thinking that it was just awful. Ray’s wife Ally,
sat on the floor in front of the fire staring
emptily into the crackling flames while she
sipped a cup of steaming tea. A length of charred
foil sat on her lap.

Ray and Ally had lived in the house for sixteen

years, and their daughter was born there just
over five years ago. He had long brown hair and
wore a distinctive pair of gold spectacles, which
gave him the air of a collage professor although
he's never had a job in all his adult life. is
job was dealing drugs. The slight tint of his
spectacle glass hid pinpoint pupils from an
inquisitive world.

Ray made money by selling heroin but never enough

money to be comfortable, just enough to keep him
and Ally in the drug and provide the essentials.
The seven gold chains that hung from his neck
gave a deceptive air of prosperity because they
were just a failsafe.

There was enough gold to raise the cash to score

again if his supply was ever lost or stolen. Or,
if things were really bad, there was a chain a
day for seven days.

Over the past few months Ray had become fearful

of the police and the house had been raided
twice. Luckily for him it was at a time when
there was a drought locally and the police had
found nothing. The occupants looking for any
spare, forgotten traces of smack had ransacked
even the charred foil in the house.

Ally had grown up in a prosperous family home,

educated and intelligent she could have led a
very different lifestyle had she and Ray’s roads
not crossed some twenty years ago.

Today she was bitter and resentful about their

predicament and had come to hate living in London
with its dirt, pollution and noise from traffic.

She yearned for the silence of the country life,

the open spaces and clean air of her family home
in Sussex.

Over the years she had become hardened by her

habit and weary of the constant stream of junkies
who invaded her home every day to buy gear.

She was sick of being knocked out of bed at three

in the morning by people she had hardly met or
woken at dawn by others who wanted to score a
five-pound bag.

She only suffered the situation because there was

no alternative. They both had a big habit and if
they couldn't sell it they would use what they
had and then have to buy it.

As Kelly entered the room with Trevor tagging

behind her Ally didn’t even bother to look up.
Her tired gaze concentrated on the fire and the
crackling flames in the grate.

Ray gestured that the two should sit at the table

as the sound of the Radio wafted across the room
from a speaker in the corner.

Ray placed a foil tube between his lips and

sucked the fumes from some gear he had already
started earlier. After a pause he exhaled and
asked.
“What is it you want, Kelly?”

“Do us a tenner's worth.” She replied looking

eagerly at the foil in his hand. Trevor leant
across and whispered something in her ear
silently. Kelly looked embarrassed for a second
before adding.
“Can you lay us on a tenner's worth as well
please?”

The silence that descended on the room was

palpable. Ray raised an eyebrow and looked
intently at the fire before he asked softly.
“When will you be able to pay us back Kel?”

“Tonight, of course.” Kelly smiled trying to look

reassuringly honest. “I hope.”
“It will be tonight.” Trevor interjected
forcefully.

Ally coughed and turned to look at them for the

first time. Her face was white and cold, the eyes
emotionless and hard.

She wiped a stray hair from her face and smeared

a black streak of soot across her cheek as she
did so. It made her look menacing, like war
paint, before she drawled in a thick Sussex
accent.
“I hope you've not forgotten that you already owe
us twenty quid Kel?”

Kelly had forgotten and she gulped loudly upon

being reminded, she began to say something,
anything to make an excuse but Ally's flat
monotone cut her off before the words reached her
lips.
“Do you think, you'll have that by tonight as
well?”

It was not so much a question but a demand that

carried with it, in each and every word, several
thousand barbed spears, each one a threat. Kelly
could only nod with her jaw drooping.

“Good.” Ally resumed looking back toward the

fire. “Because if you don't I will personally
come around to your flat and, after punching your
fucking head in, I'll take something, anything,
from that pit, worth thirty quid. Then you can
piss off and score somewhere else. Understand
Kel?”

Kelly nodded again and her jaw closed as Ray

reached into his breast pocket and he withdrew a
plastic bag full of brown powder, he pulled a
mirror closer to him and proceeded to put a small
pile of the powder in the centre with a razor
blade.

Trevor looked at the powder and a small drip of

mucus started to collect under his nose before
saying softly.
“Have you got any foil please?”

CHAPTER TWO

A little later Kelly and Trevor sat facing each

other in the kitchen of their flat. A piece of
stained foil sat between them.

“Thirty quid by tonight?” Trevor spat. “I could

nick a couple of cars and providing they have
some good sound equipment, C.D”s or tape decks,
we could flog them and raise enough to pay Ray
and score again.”

Kelly exhaled some fumes from the foil she had

just burned and examined a cockroach as it
scurried across the table.
“We’ll have to do something…” she said at last.
“If not that prat Ally will want the kid's
television.”
“Have we got any keys?” Trevor asked standing and
opening the kitchen drawers.
“Keys?”

“Car keys?” he replied pulling out old newspapers

and other junk from the drawers. He turned and
lifted the foil and lighter.
“We have to get at least sixty quid,” Kelly said
as he lit the flame of the lighter and chased the
blob of heroin down the foil. “I've got to get
some food in, the kids can't go hungry.”

Kelly’s voice trailed off and her eyelids closed

as she faded into the numbing void of heroin
sleep. Then just as quickly she was with him
again.
“No, I don’t know where any keys are.”

Trevor held his breath for as long as he could

and spoke as he exhaled the smoke.
“Is there a screwdriver kicking about in this
dump?”

“This isn't a dump!” she replied throwing him a

curt look. “It’s my fucking home.”
“I was only joking.”
“I don’t care.” Kelly snapped. “This is my home
and I don’t take people calling it a dump
lightly. If you don’t like it you can fuck off
and find somewhere else to live.”

“I was fucking joking!” he shouted slamming a

drawer closed. “Have you got one or what?”
“One what?”
“A screwdriver?” he sighed and lit the lighter
again to chase the blob down the foil..

Kelly thought for a moment before nodding to a

small cupboard under the sink.
“There’s a big one that belonged to my dad.”

Trevor finished the gear and screwed up the foil

before dropping it on the floor. Then he began
searching the cupboards.
“What are you looking for?”
“That screwdriver.” He replied pulling out the
junk that filled the cupboard. Old toys, shoes
and clothing filled the kitchen floor before he
looked up at her.
“Well?”
“What do you want it for?” Kelly asked looking at
the pile of rubbish strewn across the dirty
floor.

“I used to screw houses.” Trevor replied, he

brushed a greasy length of hair from his eyes and
sat on his haunches.
“You know, drumming. I stopped because of the
bird involved. Anyway, we need some cash fast so
it looks like it's the only way we're going to
get it. If we are lucky I could get a monkey, and
then we could start dealing ourselves.”
“What do you mean, monkey?” Kelly smiled, a
streak of soot smeared across her nose.

“Five hundred quid, a monkey…” he replied before

continuing. “No more thieving and dealing with
wankers like Ray and Ally; how does that sound?”

“What!” Kelly said softly, a smile crossed her

face. “Are you saying we could break into
someone's house. In broad daylight, is that it?”
Yha.”
“We’ll be seen.” She said with her eyes wide and
a screwed up smile.

“Don't worry about that.” Trevor replied. He

found the screwdriver at the back of the cupboard
and examined it. “This will do, have you got any
socks?”

“Socks?” she replied looking confused.

“Yha, socks.” He said tucking the screwdriver
into his jeans waistband. “…And get your coat
on.”

The clock on the old church steeple struck eleven

o'clock as Kelly and Trevor trudged through a
thin layer of frost towards the other side of
town. They walked like the roaches in her
apartment, furtive and with haste, placing each
foot in front of each other in quick spasms.
Immune to the biting wind that blew in their blue
faces they felt only the faint warmth of poison
as it rushed through their veins; swimming in its
toxic juices.

Kelly wore Trevor's old and battered sheep skin

coat, it had seen better days and was stained and
worn but it was warm She wore a pair of socks
like gloves on each hand and thrust her fingers
into the coats pockets.

Trevor just wore a thin blue tee shit and a pair

of tight, skinny jeans over his trainers. The
screwdriver was tucked down the back of his jean
and the shirt covered the protruding handle.
“The next house on the corner…” he whispered
through the side of his mouth. “We’ll both
knock.”

People shuffled past them and hurried to get home

or wherever they were going to get out of the
blistering cold; far too busy to notice the thin,
pale couple who loitered just a little too long
outside a particular house.

Nobody saw them go up to the front door and knock

hard, no one heard the repeated rapping as Trevor
banged the door knocker again and again ensuring
the house was empty. No one noticed as they left
the front porch and opened the wooden gate that
led to the rear of the house and the walled
garden beyond.

Hunching down they crept, keeping close to the

side of the house, hugging what shadows existed
as they made their way to the rear. Kelly felt a
mixture of emotions, excitement, fear and
confusion as she followed Trevor’s lead.

For a moment she wanted to turn and run as fast

as she could but when he placed his hand in hers
the fear left as quickly as it had come.
“Give me a pair of the socks?” Trevor whispered
as he pulled the screwdriver from his jeans.
“This one will be easy.”
He seemed un-naturally calm as they positioned
themselves behind the house next to the patio
door. She passed him a pair of socks and as he
pulled them on he saw one had a great hole in the
toe. His fingertips stuck through it.
“Fucking Hell, Kel?” he moaned. “Is this all you
could get?”
“I didn’t know what you wanted them for, did I.”

She watched intently as he slipped the tip of the

screwdriver between the doorframe and the door
and pulled it too one side. A loud click echoed
through the garden.

The door slid open silently and Trevor threw her

a smug grin. Kelly inspected the garden and was
relieved to see no one was watching them.

She followed Trevor in through the door and he

carefully slid it closed making sure that it was
left ajar so they would not be locked inside.
“If anyone comes…” he whispered. “That's our
escape route, go and lock the front door.”

She was busy looking about the room. There was a

neatly draped and netted bay window opposite from
where they had entered and hazy winter sunlight
shone through illuminating the scene.

It was neat and tastefully furnished, just like

in a magazine she had seen in the doctor's
surgery. There was a springy maroon carpet
underfoot and a leather three piece suit.
“Go and lock the front door.” He said again.

Kelly did as she was told and Trevor went to

work. Opening drawers, emptying their contents to
go through them and pocketing anything of
interest. A passport here, a credit card there,
cash, change; whatever attracted his attention.
“Go upstairs…” he said softly as she headed down
the hall to the front door. “Get a suitcase for
the DVD player.”
“Where about?” she asked simply not realising
what a stupid question it was.
“How would I fucking know.” He snapped. “Look in
the wardrobes or under the beds.”

Kelly did as she was told and headed upstairs as

Trevor meticulously worked around the room and
then the kitchen next door. Opening one drawer he
smiled broadly seeing it full of twenty pound
notes.

He pulled the leads from the wall and picked the

DVD up before going to the bottom of the stairs
expecting to find her standing there but she was
nowhere to be seen.

Trevor tutted loudly and put the DVD on the

stairs and went up to see what was taking her so
long. He walked into the master bedroom and found
Kelly pulling out the clothes from the wardrobe
and trying on a selection. Her own clothes were
piled on the floor and she smiled as he walked in
on her.
“How does this look?”
“Fuck's sake Kel…” he moaned. “You're not at a
fashion show. Did you find the suitcase?”
“Over there.” She said as she pulled on another
dress.

Trevor shook his head and took the case down

stairs, when he had packed the DVD he called her
and in a few minutes she walked down the stairs
in a new dress and shoes, a cashmere jacket and
with a selection of gold jewellery around her
neck and on her fingers.

“You look amazing.” He smiled, Kelly walked up to

him and they both kissed. “Let's go.”
“Hang on.” She said going to the kitchen.

Kelly opened the freezer and saw a selection of

frozen meats and pies, which she put into a
plastic bag before joining him at the bottom of
the stairs again. Then they left by the same
route they had come.

They had been in the house for no more than

twenty minutes as they crossed the garden path
and opened the gate to the street. Trevor peered
casually down the road to make sure no one was
around before he lugged the suitcase behind him
and she followed carefully on her new shoes.

As they passed a dustbin she threw away the

clothes she had been wearing earlier only keeping
Trevor’s coat which he now wore. After a few
minutes at a brisk pace the screwdriver and socks
were thrown into another dustbin and they were
flagging down a minicab.

“Yahoo!” Trevor exclaimed in the front room of

Kelly’s apartment. A cockroach crawled over a
pile of notes that he had just tossed between
them on the floor. “What a result.” He hissed.
“How easy was that?”

Kelly and Trevor looked greedily at the pile of

sparkling gold chains, sovereign pendants,
diamond rings and crisp twenty-pound notes. They
eyed the booty, caressed it, fondled the gold,
the coins and held the cold metal to their warm
skin.

It reminded Kelly of the day Peter had returned

after being missing for two days before he got
arrested. She knew he'd been at it, as he said,
but she had not known at what.

She was going to moan and nag, shout and scream

about him leaving her with two babies and no food
but when he laid a grand on the kitchen table all
that evaporated in a burst of exuberance.
It appeared that at last their money worries were
gone and that they were on the road to a bright
new future. What a joke, she thought. Kelly had
grown up a lot since then.

“You got to go to Ray’s.” Trevor said counting

out five twenty-pound notes. “Take this ton, pay
our debt and score a gram.”
“Okay.” Kelly replied taking the crisp notes from
him. She picked up a thick gold chain and looking
at it intently for a moment. “Will you get rid of
the DVD?”

“Yes.” Trevor smiled. “There’s a geezer in the

Swan, that pub in the High St, who'll take it.
I’ll get a nifty for it straight away. I’ll go
when you get back from Ray’s.”

“Trevor?” Kelly said in a slow, calm voice. “Can

I have this?” She held out the chain for him to
see.
“No.” he replied bluntly. “You'll only sell it.”

“No I won’t.” She replied firmly snatching the

chain away from his line of sight. “I promise.
Whenever I look at it I’ll think of you.”

“Well, as you put it like that.” He replied

taking her hand, removing the chain and arranging
it around her neck. “You win, but don’t sell it.”
“As if I would.” She smiled back.

Slipping on her newly acquired fur jacket and new

shoes Kelly headed towards the front door.
“See you in an hour.” She called back as Trevor
took a sovereign pendant and attached it to a
chain that hung from his neck. He peered into the
cracked mirror that sat across the dirty floor
and admired himself for a moment.
“Yha.” He smiled. “Who's a good looking boy
then?”

Chapter Three
“They must have come in here.” The distraught man
said pointing to the scratch marks and dent
against the patio door lock.
“The bastards, my wife's never going to recover.”

The man paced the room before sitting on a sofa

next to a woman who was crying into a hankie.
“Look at her…” the man continued. “She won’t be
able to spend another night alone in this house.”

He placed his arm around the woman's shoulders

and tried to comfort her. The fat man he spoke
to, Detective Deville, had been listening
quietly. He nodded and stepped towards the patio
door for a closer look.

As he did so his foot trampled some broken glass

and he looked down to see a crumpled photograph
in a smashed frame.
“Sorry.” He said. The woman looked down and
screamed.
“Our wedding photo, it’s ruined.”

Deville pulled an embarrassed face and stepped

aside only cracking more of the glass.
“Leave it out.” The man shouted. “Can't you see
she’s upset enough?”

Deville ignored him, his mind was ticking over,

the detective was trying to remember if this
burglary was similar to any other that he’s been
called to recently.

Did anything distinguish it from any of the rest?

Was the M.O, the Modus Operandi similar?

He decided, after a quick tour of the property,

that there was not much else to be done. As the
woman was howling loudly he thought he’d leave
them to their grief and get the Scene of Crime
boys over to take fingerprints. If they got any
he’d wait for the first proofs and see if there’s
a match on the system, the usual procedure.
After pointing out some obvious indications of
what had happened and asking the homeowners to
make a list of what was missing he made his
excuses and left. Returning to his car Deville
slid into the seat beside his sergeant.

“What’s up Colin?” the uniformed sergeant who had

been waiting in the driver’s seat asked as he
started the car engine up.

Deville reached into the glove compartment and

withdrew a notepad and pencil before answering
the sergeant.
“Not much Serge.” He replied jotting down some
notes. “This bloke and his misses go shopping.
They both work and today is the only time they
had to get a bit of grub in. They’re out for
about two hours. She left all her jewellery in
the house because she’s scared about being mugged
in the street.

There was two hundred quid in the kitchen drawer,

holiday money. When they got back the patio
door’s been forced, valuables and money has gone
together with various foodstuffs, DVD and some
natty articles of female clothing.”

“Female clothing?” The sergeant replied as the

car sped through narrow suburban streets. “What,
furs, things like that?”
“Well, there was a fox fur jacket, nothing to
write home about.” The detective replied softly.

His pen hovered over the notepad and he looked

out at the streets as they sped past his window.

The sky was overcast and grey. There was no one

on the street and the cold wind howled by the
empty rows of identical houses; a ghostly breath.
Stray dogs roamed in packs, garbage bags sat in
the gardens of dark, empty homes and every now
and then a rat darted from between the rubbish
strew dustbins.
“Hungry female burglars?” the sergeant laughed.
The detective smiled too although something
troubled him, it didn’t make sense. The job
looked quick and efficient, professional but it
was sloppy too.

Professional burglars, in his experience, did not

break things or do small lower middle class
dwellings. Female burglars, Deville thought about
this for a moment and then dismissed it. Women,
by themselves, could not carry away the DVD and
it had to have been carried, that was what the
suitcase, missing from the upper bedroom, was
for.

They couldn’t have had a car otherwise the flat

screen TV would have gone too. So why take the
female clothing?

A host of ideas floated into his mind concerning

this particular puzzle, lesbians perhaps. Some
were strong enough to carry a suitcase with a DVD
in but the thought was too bizarre.

After toying with the clues for a bit he came to

the conclusion that this was the work of a man
and a woman. The man had previous form and the
girl was along for the ride.

They probable had his prints on file somewhere so

he’d wait till the boys came up with some proofs
and then reassess the crime again.
“Where to now Serge?”

“Brewer Street, another break in and theft.” The

sergeant replied. “Apparently the owner
interrupted them and her dog was battered to
death; the bloke got away.”
“Christ.” Deville sighed looking back to the
deserted street as the sun set over the cold
street.
“One a minute, what the fuck is going on in this
town?”

“Hard times Colin.” The sergeant replied. “Hard

times.”

“If times were that bloody hard these people

would get work.” The detective spat. “…The
police, the army; anything. There’s work out
there if you want it. This burglary lark, I don’t
get it.

Ten years ago when I’d just come to the job, well
I don’t think I ever investigated a dwelling
burglary. Now it seems that all you need is an
excuse, the dog needs feeding, the telly’s
broken, you’re short of a few quid; it’s all the
excuse you need to go and screw a drum or two.

It’s where people are at their most vulnerable,

you have to go out sometimes and unless you want
to live in a metal box you’re a soft target. They
take advantage of that; what we should do, after
we’ve nicked the fuckers is let the householder’s
have a go at them for five minutes. That’ll put a
stop to it,”

The sergeant nodded in agreement as visions of a

frail elderly woman who’d been robbed by a six-
foot skinhead being thrown into a cell with the
thug to deter him, flashed through his brain.

The car sped forwards into the dark shadow of

night. Somewhere in the distance a gunshot rung
out and blood splashed the pavement. The music
from a cruising car bled into the street like the
blood from an open artery and in another street,
another story, tears washed a frail young face.

In a bar on the other side of town two men beat

each other’s faces and a bottle is smashed
against a wall.
The sound of screaming rings out into the night
and a siren cracks through the chorus of loud
voices and breaking glass.

In a small church just behind the glue shop a

young boy lifts a plastic bag to his face and
breathes in the strong smelling solvent.

His veins start to throb and his eyes flicker

like the fading streetlight above his head.

His crackling laughter is drowned out by the

sound of cars honking and women shouting. It’s
just another night in this city of fear.

Deville returned to his desk at the station as

the clock struck six pm. He made a report of the
day and did some filing before cracking open a
bottle of whiskey that was in his desk drawer.
When the clock on the station wall chimed ten pm
he made his way home feeling dirty from his
contact with life.

Meanwhile, in a cockroach infested flat on the

other side of town Trevor and Kelly had smoked
much more heroin then they usual.

They had stocked the larder with food and

groceries and a few sickly cakes had been given
to the kids. Out of debt and in credit with their
dealer made for happy junkies.

Kelly dozed between sentences as she read the

kids a night-time story. Soon after she and
Trevor made their way to the bedroom taking the
foil and a lighter with them. Laughter rang out
down the empty hall and darkened corridor that
night; springs sprung and the town settled down;
only the roaches continued to seek out food.

The next few days passed fast and were expensive.

The twins were treated to a visit to the cinema
and spoilt. It was an enjoyable, but brief
glimpse of life with money to spend.
Trevor took Kelly to a restaurant for a night out
leaving the kids with a neighbour for once. Kelly
did not understand the menu and ended up having
steak and chips but the real delight was being
able to chase some heroin in the expensive
toilets under the noses of the staff.

On Thursday morning Kelly opened her eyes hearing

the children laughing loudly. She wiped the sleep
from her eyes and as her vision came into focus
she heard one of the kids say softly.
“Look mummy, we found a pussy cat.”

She looked to where the boys were sitting and saw

that one of them was holding a dead rat by the
tail. She shrieked and jumped from her bed.
“Put that down babe.” She said taking the rat’s
tail in two fingers and throwing it against the
other side of the room.
“Trevor.” She screamed. “Look what the fucking
kids were playing with.”

She was sweating, her back ached and her legs

throbbed as she ushered the kids into the hall.
She was cold and sick.
“Dirty rat.” She said indicating the animal
remains. “Dirty, you mustn’t play with dirty rat.
Okay?”

The kids just looked at her blankly and wondered

if they were in trouble. Kelly looked back
towards the sleeping pile under the blankets and
tutted loudly, She entered the bedroom again and
reached under the bed for a small paper packet.
When she opened it she cursed loudly.
“Bastard, he’s smoked most of it.”

The children were in the kitchen when she joined

them and smoked the last of the gear on a old
piece of foil before visiting the toilet.
“Trevor.” She shouted. “Are you getting up or are
you going to stay in bed all day?”
A few moments later as she began to apply some
makeup to her eyes Trevor entered the kitchen
wearing a skimpy pair of underpants. He walked to
the stove and lit a gas ring and warmed himself.
“Blimey.” He shivered. “It’s taiters in here. Get
the gear and do us a chase.”
“What gear.” Kelly replied looking at him in the
reflection of the mirror.

“Don’t take the piss babe.” He said leaning over

the gas rings. “The dope, where is it?”
“We had two packets.” Kelly replied continuing to
apply some mascara. “I smoked the last of one
this morning and you…”
“You did what!” he exclaimed. “What, all of it?”
“You had half a gram.” She continued. “Where’s
that?”
“Are you taking the fucking piss.” He screamed.
The children looked at the two adults and became
very quiet. Kelly put the mascara in her makeup
bag and turned to face him.
“You had it last night, half a gram.” She said
softly.

“I gave that to Carol.” Trevor replied. “You know

I did, she asked me to lay it on to her till
today.”
“What!” Kelly shouted. “You gave it to that slag,
you stupid cunt.”

“You know I did.” He shouted back. “She told me

you’d said it was okay.”
“Sure.” Kelly sighed. “I’d just give away our
last bit of gear, and to that fucking whore.
Sure, do I look like a fucking mug or what?

Fancy being taken in by her; I don’t even like

the silly cow, the only reason she was here last
night was because she had seen Ray and he had
probably told her we had some gear. So, we’re
fucked.”

“It’s alright for you.” Trevor shouted. “You’ve

had some.”
“Good bloody job too.” Kelly shouted applying
some shadow to her eyelids.
“That’s right,” Trevor shouted. “Selfish bitch,
turn around and face me.”

He grabbed Kelly’s arm and pulled her around from

the mirror and as she struggled the mirror fell
from where it had been positioned smashing into a
million pieces across the hard stone floor.
“Now look what you done, you bastard.”

“Look at me.” Trevor shouted. “When I’m talking

to you.”
“Let go of my arm Trevor.” She shouted back. “If
you don’t, I’ll…”
“You’ll what, Bitch?” he screamed.

The children looked on at the squabbling adults

as a cockroach crawled across the kitchen table.
“What bitch?” He shouted as his fist smashed into
the side of her face. “What the fuck are you
going to do?”

Just then a loud knock rang out through the flat.

“Don’t ignore me.” Trevor shouted as Kelly ducked
to avoid his blows
“Trevor…” she said timidly as another loud rap
came from the direction of the street door.
“There’s someone knocking, stop it please.”

Trevor let out a frustrated scream and punched

the door of the cupboard above her head. The
sound of wood splintering rang out through the
flat. Then flushed with anger he stormed off
towards the bedroom kicking anything that was in
his way on the journey.

Once she heard the bedroom door slam shut Kelly

stuck two fingers up in that general direction
and cursed under her breath. She stepped to the
front door and peered through the spy-hole. A
middle-aged woman looked back at her.
“Shit.” She whispered adjusting her clothing
before opening the door slightly.
“Yes?” Kelly said. She was confronted by a dumpy
woman in a tweed twin set with a string of pearls
hung around her neck. She had an air of
respectability and condescension about her, which
put Kelly on her guard immediately.

The woman’s greying hair was pinned back from her

face by two severe hair clips that matched her
sensible shoes.
“Did I interrupt anything dear?” The woman asked,
her face pulled into a contorted grin.
“No.” Kelly lied.

The woman did not wait to be invited in but

barged past Kelly and walked into the kitchen
dragging a battered briefcase with her.
“You must be Kelly.” She said before noticing the
twins. “And these little darlings must be your
boys; you don’t mind me coming in, so cold out
there in the hall.”

“I didn’t have much choice did I?” Kelly replied

closing the street door.

Kelly noticed that the woman was looking

everywhere, her eyes furtively inspecting the
kitchen, the table, the sink, the children. By
now the fact that she was probably from Social
Services had struck Kelly and she was on her
guard.

“Such lovely boys, you must be proud of them?”

the woman remarked. “My name’s Mrs Willow, dear.”
The woman continued placing her battered
briefcase on the table and opening it.

She withdrew a pencil and notepad and threw Kelly

a fake smile.
“Social Security asked me to pop around to see
you…”

Kelly’s heart sank, this is it, she thought, they

were going to charge her with fraud, all because
of some stupid milk tokens that she could have
used in a week.
“You’re from Social Security?” Kelly asked.

“Oh no dear…” The woman beamed. “They asked me to

pop around and see how you are getting by. I’m a
local authority social worker.”
This remark made Kelly’s heart sink even further.
The flat was in a state and she was still shaking
from her argument with Trevor.
“Well?” Kelly said lighting a cigarette.

“It appears they stopped paying you five weeks

ago…” Willow commented. “I am not concerned with
the reasons behind the stoppage, that’s their
concern, I am here to find out how you and the
children are coping with no money to live on. If
there is anything I can do, to help.”

“Really?” Kelly replied suspiciously blowing a

cloud of cigarette smoke in the woman’s
direction.
“I’ll just ask you a few questions and see if I
can get a payment made to you, if you need one.”

That’s a laugh, Kelly thought, if she needed one.

How could anyone be so stupid as to think a
mother of two children, with no savings, who’s
had no income for five weeks wouldn’t need some
money was ridiculous.

The woman smiled again, Kelly was beginning to

hate that grin, it reminded her of the
policewoman who had searched the flat soon after
Peter had been arrested. The one who had taken
all the food from the freezer and cupboards, all
the electrical equipment and any new clothes,
even children’s clothes she could find, for
evidence, they said. Sure.

Evidence that poor people aren’t supposed to have

freezers or good clothing or electrical
equipment.
The policewoman loved her job. She didn’t stop
smiling the whole time she searched the place and
her smile grew every time she found something she
thought, in her opinion, someone who was on
benefits, shouldn’t own.
“Well?” Kelly said trying to urge the woman to
get on and go.

“Let’s start at the beginning shall we?” Willow

said while filling in a page in her notepad.
“Your name is Kelly Smith, yes?”
Kelly nodded.

“Twenty two years old?”

“You’re well informed.” Kelly said looking out
through the kitchen window at the rain as it
began to splash against the rotten window frame.
“Oh, I’ve read your file dear…” Willow continued.
“These must be the twins, aged two?”
“That’s right.”

“Hubby, is he at home dear?” Willow lifted an

enquiring eyebrow.
“No, he’s…”
“Away, working or something like that?”

“He’s in prison.” Kelly replied knowing the woman

probable knew that anyway.
“Gone long has he?”
“It’s been about eighteen months now…” Kelly
replied.
“How long is he doing?”
“Ten years.” The words fell from her lips like a
curse.

She felt as if she was doing everyday of that

sentence with him. When he was free and they
lived together their relationship wasn’t even
that intense. They suffered each other’s company
for the sake of the children and intimacy was
lost in the time consuming act of living.

It was only when he was taken out of the

situation that what he brought to their
relationship became apparent. Kelly realised, in
that that moment of reflection, that she actually
missed him.

“What has all this got to do with my Social

Security payments?” Kelly asked impatiently.

Willow looked up at her over the rim of her

spectacles and raised an eyebrow.
“I have to make a detailed report…” she replied.
“But I could go and come back if it’s not
convenient.”

“No…” Kelly replied softly. “I was just wondering

because the children have to be at nursery, I’m
sorry.”
“Are you living alone?” Willow looked up again
and towards the bedroom door as if she expected
someone to join them.

“Yes.” Kelly replied. “Well sort of, Trevor

doesn’t live here, so I’m alone, yes.”
“Trevor?” Willow said looking back toward her
notepad again. “Is he a boyfriend?”
“Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Willow scribbled something before

adding. “Can I have his surname please?”
“Trevor Simpson.”
“Simpson…” Willow repeated. She glanced at her
wristwatch and looked at Kelly again. “I suppose
he is not working?”

She wrote another sentence before looking at the

children and smiling.
“The children look well fed, how have you been
managing?”
“Good family.” Kelly lied without thinking
through the answer. “They help a lot.”

“Very good.” Willow smiled. “I’m so glad to hear

that, these day’s so many families fail to stick
together. So, does mum live nearby?”
“No, she’s up North.” Kelly said digging herself
a hole that got deeper with every comment.
“So father is nearby?”
“He’s dead.” Kelly glanced away and hoped that
Willow would put her notepad away and leave
before she said something she would regret for
the rest of the day.

“Sorry to hear that dear…” Willow sighed. “So

Trevor’s family look after you?”
“Sort of…”
“I see…” Willow mused. “Sort of. Wasn’t hubby put
away because of drugs or something, dear?”

Kelly looked at Willow and felt sick. Fucking

bitch, she thought, pretending to know nothing
and yet she had probably been told every bit of
gossip that had ever been said about them, no
matter how vague, petty or malicious.

Willow on the other hand noted the pinpoint

pupils and the pale complexion. The vague look in
Kelly’s eyes and her evasiveness.
“Yes drugs.” Kelly said softly.

“I see.” Willow tried to look sympathetic but

failed before asking indifferently. “Is there
anything else you would like me to know?”
“Not really.”
“Outstanding bills, anything dear?”
“No.”

Willow smiled again and then packed away her

notepad. She stood before bending over the
children and giving them a good examination
without being too obvious and then she withdrew a
small card from her jacket pocket.
“Give me a call if you need anything.”

“Okay.” Kelly replied taking the card and placing

it in a drawer. She walked to the front door and
opened it for the woman to leave.
“I’ll phone Social Security.” Willow added with a
fake smile. “If I can get any movement on the
payment front I will be in touch. Okay?”

She stepped into the hall and prepared to leave

before stopping and leaning back towards Kelly
and whispering.
“I hope he’s calmed down a little.”
“He’s okay.” Kelly replied taken aback by this
overt familiarity.

Both women tried to smile and Willow turned to

walk away. Kelly’s smile immediately turned into
a snarl as she watched the woman walk towards the
elevators at the end of the hall.
“Fucking bitch.” She said under her breath.

As soon as the front door closed the bedroom door

opened and Trevor appeared fully dressed. In his
hands he held a pair of socks and a screwdriver.
“Get your coat on.” He ordered as he reached for
his jacket.
“Don’t you want to hear what…”

“Tell me on the way.” He replied interrupting he

mid-sentence. “I’m sick.”

Kelly looked at his face and saw the large

dilated pupils, the trail of mucus running from
his nose and the pale goose bumps that covered
his skin.
“Well?” he snapped. “Let’s go. Snap-snap.”

Kelly did as she was told and half an hour later

they were walking away from the nursery having
dropped the children off. They didn’t speak to
each other and Trevor was lost in thoughts
concerning direction and opportunities.

His eyes scanned every house they passed as if he

was looking for something, anything that would
tell him this was the one.
Houses that had no burglar alarms, wooden window
frames and open curtains were likely targets. He
liked houses that had no net curtains because he
was able to peer into these from the street.
Firstly seeing that they were unoccupied and also
if they had items worth stealing within.

His eyes focused, homed in on and psychically

examined those that may have patio doors at the
rear, louver windows or other breaks in their
security. These thoughts battled with his ever-
deepening sense of withdrawal.

Not only into junk sickness but also withdrawal

from society.

Kelly meanwhile, thought about their visitor that

morning. The questions that were asked, the looks
and scrutiny from the woman, she hated it all.

She remembered seeing a cockroach from the

kitchen crawl slowly into Willow’s briefcase and
that gave her some satisfaction. Hoping that it
would not be spotted and when the woman got home
that evening it would crawl out and infect her
home with the misery that infected her own. That
thought sustained Kelly as they made their way
through the cold street.

Kelly rubbed the side of her nose as the poison

in her veins rushed through the small capillaries
in her face. Then before she had actually
realised she was following Trevor through a
garden gate and up to the gleaming front door of
a semi-detached house.

Trevor rang the doorbell.

There was no answer from within, no noise, no

twitching net curtains so he rang the bell again.
Still nothing stirred within the property, the
curtains hung motionless framed behind louver
windows.
“Quick.” He whispered through the side of his
mouth. “Through the side gate.”

They quietly moved through a tall wooden gate

that hung from the side of the house that made an
entrance through a trellis fence. Trevor closed
the gate behind them and propped a dustbin
against it so that it was jammed shut. Then, like
tigers stalking a deer they crept up the side
path and into the rear garden.

Kelly noticed at once that the rear garden had

only a small wall at the opposite end and that
the house there could view them standing there
quite openly. If Trevor had noticed it certainly
didn’t bother him.

She wondered if there were unseen eyes watching

them from behind the net curtains of the opposite
house? Had the police already been called; what
did they make of Trevor slipping a pair of socks
over his hands and getting a screwdriver in
between the glass slates and the aluminium frames
of the louver windows?

He carefully folded the metal back and slid the

glass panes out of their frames placing them
neatly upon the grass beside where he stood. When
there was a large enough gap Trevor slipped
through it and opened the back door.

He passed her a pair of socks for her hands and

said.
“Go and lock the front door, if you hear anything
we’ll get out here.” He indicated the back door,
which he closed and left unlocked.

Kelly found herself in a spacious modern kitchen

that gleamed clean lines and steel fittings. Huge
potted plants decorated each corner and a shelf
rang along one wall that had pans and utensils
hanging from it.
There was a photograph of a young woman with a
baby in her arms smiling proudly at the camera.
Kelly looked at it and realised that she had
similar photos of her and the children but none
were in frames.

In fact she had no photographs of the children

when they were babies; when she tried to remember
what they looked like as infants she couldn’t
picture them; the image was forgotten.

Open plan interiors were easy work for Trevor,

the clean uncluttered lines made searching for
valuables was just a matter of opening drawers
and dipping pockets. His hands were busy as he
made his way from one side of the space to the
other.

Kelly found the front door hidden behind a huge

potted plant and locked the Yale. She had noticed
a DVD on her way across the property and thought
she’d venture upstairs to find a case big enough
to carry it.

She opened one door to find it was a toilet and

realised that she needed to pee. Kelly arranged
her clothing and sat down when her gaze fell
across a room opposite and through it’s open door
she saw a selection of shoes.

She stood and flushed the toilet before going

into the bedroom and looking at the various shoes
with interest. She was delighted to find they
would all fit her and so she tried on a couple of
pairs.

The wooden floors echoed as she stepped in front

of the full-length mirror and looked at the pairs
she had tried. She selected a pair of boots with
a long zip and high heels and another pair of
formal court shoes. Placing both pairs in the
case she dragged from under the bed.
Opening the cupboard she was amazed by the
selection of clothing that hung neatly from a
rail within. Each blouse, suit or jacket was in
an individual plastic dust jacket and she
couldn’t help but go through each piece and
select a few choice items.

She pulled the case into the hall and saw a

bathroom door slightly ajar, instinctively she
inspected the medical cabinet. It was an old
habit, one she found hard to break.

When she was younger and first experimented with

drugs she had found in her grandmother’s medical
box a bottle of slimming pills.

She had regularly visited granny following that

discovery just to raid the old woman’s medical
supply and now, no matter where she went, if she
saw a cabinet she had to look.

She opened the mirrored door and inside saw an

old tube of hair remover, some cotton buds and a
pill bottle. She read the label.

DIACONAL: 15Mg
One per day
Mrs Reed

Kelly gasped. Diaconal were a well-known opiate

based painkiller. They were rarely prescribed
these days as people had abused them in the past,
she slipped the bottle into her jacket pocket.

When she left the bathroom she found Trevor

crouching outside in the hall.
“Where’s the fucking suitcase?” he spat.
“You made me jump.” She said catching her breath.
“It’s over there.”

Kelly indicated the case next to the bedroom door

and Trevor told her to take it downstairs while
he checked the main bedrooms.
“Just see if there’s anything in there first…”
Trevor said as he dived into a nearby room. He
had pointed to the door next to the toilet and
when Kelly opened it she found herself inside a
nursery.

Teddy bears sat silently upon shelves like

critical imps, their eyes looked at her with
disgust and she felt very guilty for a moment.

There was a small bed that had a pink quilt laid

upon it that looked clean and welcoming. Kelly
recalled the twins bedroom just before the police
had called. It was empty except for a mattress on
the floor because Peter had got very drunk one
night and had taken his anger out on the flat.

She shielded the children as best she could as

anything that could be broken was. All that was
left was a pile of broken wood in their room.

When she had told him to stop because of the

children he had replied that they weren’t his and
so he didn’t care what they saw.
“Bring that fucking suitcase.” Trevor shouted.

Kelly stopped daydreaming and dragged the case

into him.
“I thought you wanted it downstairs?”
“Help me stick that in it.” He pointed to a small
safe that was under the bed. She saw a thick
trail of mucus hanging from his nose and Trevor’s
eyes were massive with distorted pupils; a
menacing symptom of his withdrawal.

They managed to close the case over the small

safe and he dragged it downstairs as Kelly
followed.
“We’ve had a right result.” Trevor whispered as
she followed him out the back door.
“Why?” she replied as he dragged the case through
the garden. “What have you got?”
“Gold.” He smiled back. “Cotchels of tom; fucking
cotchels of it…”
CHAPTER FOUR.

“What’s it all about Colin?” The sergeant asked

in his thick northern brogue as he pushed the
gear stick into first. The car-launched forwards
along the road kicking up a trail of dust in its
wake. “I saw the doctor’s car, someone got hurt
or what?”

Deville removed the notepad from the glove

department and started to write some notes.
“Mr and Mrs Reed are out between 10.30 and 15.00.
When they return they find the front door locked.
They go to the rear of their property to find a
few panes of glass have been removed from the
kitchen louver windows.”

“Louver windows eh?” the sergeant muttered. “I

can’t understand people who have them installed.
They’re an open invitation to thieves and a right
bastard to clean.”

“Too right.” Deville answered deep in thought.

“The Reeds are going to make a list but they can
confirm that a small safe has been taken, he’s a
jeweller” and keeps specimen’s at home. The safe
was pointless though if anyone could pick it up
and take it. More for the insurance I suppose…”
“Anything else?” The sergeant asked as the car
sped through the damp grey streets.

“A suitcase…” Deville replied taping the notepad

with the tip of his pencil. “A few quid and a
selection of female clothing; Oh, the woman’s
heart pills and teddy bear were taken as well.”
“Sounds like a television quiz show. What’s it
called, the Generation game.”

The sergeant looked at Deville quickly with a

large grin before turning his attention back to
the road.
“I guess the doctor was there to replace the
heart pills?”
“That’s right Sergeant.” Devilled looked at his
friend for a moment. “The shock of finding her
gaff broken into gave the old girl a bit of a
shock. Just the sort of time she needed her
pills”

“Oh dear.” The sergeant replied. “What’s all this

with the female clothing, becoming fashionable
for burglars is it?”
“What cross dressing?” Deville laughed. “No, I
don’t think so, it’s probably the same firm from
last week. I’ll have to wait and see if the SOCO
come up with any dabs.”
“The pills Colin?” the sergeant asked softly.
“Dangerous are they?”

“They’re called, er let me see I wrote it down

here somewhere, oh yes; Diaconal. Never heard of
them myself.”

“No…” the sergeant spat loudly. “Well I have,

junkies used to nick them from chemists back in
the days when they weren’t belled up like they
are today. If you take them orally they are
completely safe but the stoners, they fix them
up. I’ve seen some terrible damage from those
things, terrible. They have silicon in apparently
and if they miss a vein, oh it’s an abortion.”

“I didn’t know you were such an expert on all

things junkified?” Deville giggled.
“Well Colin,” the sergeant nodded. “That’s what
comes of being based in the West End of London
for twenty years; so many junkies up there, all
the uniformed branch are experts. Why they don’t
allow Doctors to prescribe heroin to junkies, I
don’t know.”
“Do what?” Deville gasped. “You’ll have everyone
using if that was the case.”

“No Colin.” The sergeant replied. “That’s what’s

happening under the present system. If doctors
prescribed to the current junkies their dealers
would go out of business and the whole thing
would die out. That’s what the blokes up West
think, and they should know.”

The car fell into a silence for a moment while

both men considered this change in government
policy.

“So,” Deville asked eventually. “Only old ladies

and junkies would have heard of these pills
then?”
“And doctors…” The sergeant replied with a sniff.
“Don’t forget the doctors…”

Devilled looked out the side window at the

passing streets and boarded up shops. They all
looked the same, deadbeat people shuffled along a
deadbeat street with little or no soul in their
eyes. The housed were poorly maintained and had
dusty windows and torn net curtains, pebble
dashed walls were covered with garish graffiti
and racist jibes.

He saw an old woman with grey and ruffled hair

standing motionless upon a dusty doorstep. Her
slippers had holes in the toes and her dressing
gown was torn and stained. She looked at him with
the eyes of someone who had lived too long, a
corpse of a body waiting for the earth to cover
it and put her at peace. He had to look away and
pretend he hadn’t seen.

“Yes…” Deville sniffed. “It’s definitely the same

firm from last week. The team from Bowman
Street.”
“Was that the gaff with the dead dog?”
“No, the one before that.” Deville replied making
some more notes. “Same MO, rear entry, suitcase,
female clothing.”
“I remember.” The sergeant replied glancing
around for a moment.

“Rear entry,” Deville mused out loud. “That was a

door and this was a window but all the same I
suppose, it’s that they were in the rear that’s
the clincher. The female clothing is a dead
giveaway.

I bet this firm’s a bloke and his bird, one or

both possibly junkies, the girl takes a size five
shoe; that would make her a medium build.

He fell silent for a moment trying to remember

who he had nicked in the past few years and if
any couples fitted this particular model. After a
while the sergeant interrupted his thoughts.
“The station radioed while you were in with the
Reeds.”
“Oh yes?”
“Another burglary at Latchmear estate; I’m just
taking you there now.”

“Lovely…” Deville replied sinking back in his

chair and closing his eyes for a moment. He had
to prepare himself for the next visit to another
hysterical householder who had probable had all
their treasures taken by same scrote. He sighed
loudly as the car pulled into the Latchmear
Estate, a rambling concoction of ugly seventies
architecture.

All grey blocks and concrete, windswept and dark;

like some Orwellian nightmare that had sprung
straight from the pages of 1984. He shook his
head and thought that it was just another normal
weekday in the dog eat dog world of modern London
Town.

He didn’t notice the couple standing outside a

house that stood on the other side of the road to
the Latchmear; bracing themselves against the
wind Trevor and Kelly banged again on Rays street
door.

Ray’s face peered through the front door window

before the door was pulled cautiously open. He
gestured for Kelly and Trevor to enter and
swiftly closed the door having looked in the
street to ensure they were not observed.

They followed him into his lounge where a fire

was blazing in the hearth and condensation ran
down the windows like interior rain. Ray sat, as
usual, beside the table while his visitors sat
themselves opposite. He began running a blob of
brown poison down a length of foil and closed his
eyes momentarily.

Trevor’s nose was now streaming mucus and he

arched his back against the violent cramps that
thumped in his kidneys. It felt like hot knives
being inserted and as he watched Ray run the blob
along the foil the throbbing became acute.

The slow tick-tock of a clock on the mantel

appeared to stretch the torture out, moment-by-
moment, second by second.
“Do us a score bag.” Trevor said with an air of
urgency. “If you don’t mind, I’m sick as a pig.”

Oh no, Kelly thought, fancy saying that to Ray.

She could have turned around and thumped him but
instead just threw Trevor a strained grimace.

She knew from her long experience of Ray that if

he knew you were sick he’d start playing games,
making you wait for an eternity while he took his
time to weigh out the gear.

He would take a blade and mirror and push the

powder this way, then that way, into a pile here
and a pile there and all the time stopping to
gouch out every now and then.

When he had made a paper wrap to put the gear

into he would do the smallest deal possible
knowing that by now you’d throw him twenty quid
no matter how little the deal was.
If she was sick shed try to hide it when scoring
from Ray but unfortunately Trevor was not aware
of the silly games Ray like to play; at least
Ally didn’t appear to be around so they might be
able to smoke some there before leaving.
“A quarter eh?” Ray slurred. “I don’t think I
have a quarter.”

Here we go, Kelly thought as she closed her eyes

and enjoyed the warmth coming from the fire.
“I could have a quarter in a while…” Ray added
slowly. “Maybe a couple of hours.”
“I can’t wait two hours mate…” Trevor gasped.
“Just give me what you have for a score.”

Ray looked at the two of them with pinpoint

pupils. His eyes were a shocking colour of blue
and as he peered over the top of his gold rimmed
spectacles Kelly just wanted to smash his face
in.

He sat motionless for what seemed like an

eternity as Trevor coughed, sniffed and generally
played up his “Oh so ill” symptoms. He took a
twenty-pound note from his pocket and threw it on
the table in the hope of getting some reaction
from Ray.

This did the trick and Ray removed a small

plastic bag from his pocket and held it up to the
light. A collection of brown powder was in one of
the corners and he prodded it here and there to
ascertain its weight.

Ray then opened a small penknife and spooned out

a small portion onto a mirror, pushing it here
and there, adding bits, taking bits away until a
very small pile was left.

Ray folded the plastic bag up and placed it back

into his pocket. Trevor’s jaw was hanging because
the sight of the powder on the mirror had made
his cravings increase tenfold.
Knowing that he was less than three feet from an
instant cure to this agony made his heart beat
faster and the blood in his veins run cold.
“That’s all I have for a score.” Ray said at
last. “It’s not a quarter but it’s all I can do.”

“Fine.” Trevor gasped. “Have you got any foil?”

Fucking piss taker, Kelly thought as she examined

the small pile of brown powder that Ray pushed
across the table towards them.

It was about half of what they should have got

and all because Trevor couldn’t keep his trap
shut.
“Not a very good deal.” Kelly said softly to
Trevor knowing that Ray would hear her.

“I’ll square you up later.” Ray whispered passing

a roll of foil across the table towards them
both. Trevor tore a strip off the roll and made a
tube and then tore another strip to run the gear
on.

He slowly emptied the pile of powder from the

mirror onto the foil and then withdrew a
cigarette lighter from his pocket and lit it
under the pile. Trevor’s hands were shaking
slightly with anticipation.

A cloud of fumes rose from the foil and he

greedily sucked them into his lungs.

With each breath he felt his backache subside and

his runny nose dry; even the small beads of sweat
on his forehead evaporated in moments as he
sucked the clouds of poison deep into his lungs.

After a few deep sucks on the tube he felt

himself relax again and his tired eyes closed.
“Give me a run.” Kelly snapped nudging him with
her elbow. Trevor took another run before passing
her the strip of foil and the tube.
“Wanna buy a DVD?” Trevor asked Ray while Kelly
partook.
“New or second hand?” Ray replied with his eyes
still closed.

“Second hand?” Trevor replied with a crafty wink.

“No thanks.” Ray replied seriously, opening his
eyes and casting Trevor a stern look. “Receiving
stolen goods is a criminal offence.”

After Ray’s, Kelly and Trevor caught a taxi to a

small office where Trevor had sold stolen gold in
the past. The owner of the office liked the rings
but refused to pay for the stones and ripped them
from the gold mountings before paying the scrap
value of the gold. He kept the stones.

They collected the children on time and took them

home by taxi stopping on the way to get some fast
food. Trevor left Kelly at home with the kids
later on that evening with the DVD in the
suitcase intending to hawk it outside some of the
local public houses.

While he was gone Kelly bathed the kids and put

them to bed before sitting in her lounge next to
an electric fire.

The black and white TV was on low and she sat

watching it half asleep. The picture was
monochrome but she saw red and blue lines dart in
front of her eyes. The image twinkled and she saw
the image of a young Clara Bow on the screen
posing dramatically in some half forgotten movie.

As the sound of a wilting violin drifted across

the room, Kelly’s greasy plastic radio-alarm
clock switched on. Its glowing red dial read
7.30pm as a faint electrical voice announced a
summary of today’s news.

The newscaster’s voice merged and folded into the

remorseful melody that the violin created.
Visions of Clara Bow, flickered and crashed as
somewhere in the Middle East bombs fell on
wedding party. Clara Bow frowned and the wilting
tune hummed a sad and depressing solo. Kelly
nodded off.

In her dream-state Kelly, aware that she may be

asleep wondered why she found herself in court.
A judge was inspecting her through squinting eyes
that peered over the top of his horn-rimmed
spectacles.

The wig he wore hung down the sides of his face,

laid neatly on the shoulders of his red robe. He
pointed an accusing finger.

“Thief!” His cold voice snapped. “Shame. Imagine

the misery your actions have caused.”
“So what.” Kelly shrugged. The words sprang from
her mouth like golden spangles, leaving rainbows
on trails like in wet snow or muddy paths. “So
what!” her words stained the air like mirrors and
graffiti.

“Think of the hearts you break, the homes you

have destroyed.”
“So fucking what!” Kelly shrugged again; peering
into a pool. The sun illuminated behind her head
creating a halo in the reflection. “No one did
nothing for me. Not my parents, not my family,
not the state, the police; nobody. They don’t
give a fuck and so don’t I...”

There spoke the voice of resentment. Like barbed

wire the words cut through the air and entangled
themselves in the hair of the judge. The icon
withered; his voice wilted.

“What about the pain you have caused?”

“Pain?” Kelly spat back through clenched teeth.
“Don’t talk to me about pain; I am pain. It lives
with me every day of my life. Real pain, not some
namby-pamby shit that two fucking aspirins can
cure. I’m talking about emotional pain, it’s as
deadly as getting a knife in your heart.
Pushing the blade in, up to the hilt and then
twisting it. That’s my pain Mister Justice ,
Sir!”

The judge threw her a patronising grin and tapped

his papers with the end of his gabble.
“While having the misfortune to listen to your
catalogue of criminal activity…” The judge
wheezed.
“I have seen neither a glimmer of remorse nor a
hint of shame coming from the defendant. She has
none.”

Kelly smiled, these were the exact words Trevor

had used a couple of days earlier. He lad laughed
at her, mocking the way she looked, flashing red
gums and stained teeth.

“It’s a jungle out there.” Trevor had said. “A

fucking jungle. Full of lions waiting to eat you
up, vultures waiting to pick at your flesh;
leaches waiting to crawl on your back and suck
your bones dry.

The world is a jungle and the law of the jungle

is this: DOG EAT DOG. The only way to survive is
by being a bigger animal then all the others.
Otherwise you perish; otherwise you die!”

Kelly opened her eyes suddenly and looked around

the room. What a weird dream, she thought.

Guilt was subjective, she mused, the battlefield

of her environment made guilt fairly
insignificant. Kelly seriously figured herself a
victim of crime not a cause of it.
She realised that stealing was wrong but she felt
like her life had been stolen, piece-by-piece and
no one cared about that.

All her expectations, dreams and opportunities

had been stolen away by the brutality of her
life. Leading ceaselessly and manifestly towards
death and the grave. She was a victim of her
background and her underlying lack of self-worth.

The wilting violin cried as explosions rocked

Islamabad. Violence pitched in hysteria forced
Clara’s tears to fall. Like leaves in an autumn
forest and Kelly closed her eyes on it all;
drifting into a deep, drug-induced sleep.

Chapter 5.

“I have read your report, Mrs Willow…” The

middle-aged man huffed before continuing. “…I
must agree with your recommendations. The level
of physical violence on the property warrants
serious attention.”

“The report is clear about the depravation?” Mrs

Willow asked with a smile.
“Quite clear.” The man replied with a beaming
smile rubbing the side of his nose with a
nicotine stained index finger.

“Of course I must consult with the line

management before any funding is arranged. Red
tape I’m afraid, asking is easy, it’s the waiting
that’s a killer; good job this isn’t an
emergency; eh lass?”

“Quite!” Willow replied.

“It isn’t an emergency, is it?” The man asked
suddenly looking straight faced.
“No, no!” Willow replied with another broad
smile. “Not an emergency, no.”

The man lit a tobacco pipe that he had been

shuffling from hand to hand before mumbling that
they could invoke Section 13 of the Children’s
Act and get a Temporary Care Order. Then he
discounted that before looking at Mrs Willow
again. He frowned momentarily creating a deep
furrow in his brow. A cloud of pipe smoke filled
the room.
“Are the DHSS going to sue for the Fraud?” he
asked.

“They have sent the information to their central

fraud office…” Willow replied trying to organise
her thoughts properly. “They’ll make the final
decision. It’s unlikely as it was just one milk
token but till then she has no means of support.”

“Oh dear.” The man replied. “Before we can offer

any financial assistance we need a referral from
a secondary agency; tell Kelly when you see her
next. In the meantime we should just collect more
information; the more we have in court to present
our case the better it will be.”

“Thank you for your advice.” Willow nodded

graciously. Her supervisor smiled flashing a row
of brown, tobacco stained teeth.

Two days had passed since their last burglary;

two long days of bliss spent abusing a drug of
choice. While it was there they found it
irresistible, a thorn in their sides every second
of the day, continually pricking their skin to
remind them to have some more.

A small sniff here, a fix there, a leisurely

chase; no matter where they were if they had
heroin in their pocket they had to use it. In the
car to the nursery they sniffed, outside the
shops they smoked. In a squalid local toilet, and
the best, they used it at home in front of the
television.

They even used some in the changing room of the

local leisure centre where they had taken the
children to swim. Kelly wanted to swim while
totally out of her nut and then revised this when
after having a chase she realised it was nicer to
stay where she was, in the warm changing room,
the door locked to the outside world.

They had raised over 700 quid from the last job
but by Friday were down to their last five-pound
note. Kelly used this to take the children to the
nursery and when she got back she found Trevor
preparing to go out on another job.

They smoked what gear they had left and then

armed themselves with a couple of tools and some
gloves; oblivious to any sort of danger they made
their way to the street. Only the cockroaches
missed them.

As they marched through the grey streets Trevor’s

eyes looked for louver windows or aluminium
frames which promised patio doors at the rear. He
looked for rotten wooden frames or easily forced
front doors.

“Trevor?” she whispered as he led her up a quiet

street, past the small houses and manicured
lawns. “If anyone knew what we were doing there
would be so much trouble.”

“Shut up!” he snapped back. “Fuck them. These

people are cunts, they wouldn’t piss on you if
you were on fire; I hate them.”

“You don’t even know them.” Kelly whispered

trying to keep up with him. “How can you hate
people you don’t know?”
“I know them.” He replied looking at her with a
sneer on his face. “I know them by looking at the
way they live; they’re all cunts.”

Old Mrs Walker sat back in her favourite chair

and warmed her feet beside the fire. They were a
little swollen but she was used to that; it
always happened in the winter, the cold got to
her veins and the swelling would come on. She was
okay as long as she didn’t stand for too long.

The house was very cold at this time of year and

her pension made it difficult for her to heat the
house properly. She could only afford one bag of
coal a week and she just put a small fire on in
the afternoon in one room.

This meant keeping there and only venturing out

to visit the loo or make a cup of tea. Sometimes
it was so cold in her bedroom that she would
settle in front of the fire with a blanket over
her legs and drop off to sleep there.

Today she was knitting a cardigan and had almost

used another ball of blue wool. She looked over
her spectacles toward her knitting bag and was
reassured by the sight of another two balls.

Thomas, her old and very fat cat, purred and

stepped between her legs before curling up into a
small fluffy ball by the fire.
“Hello Tommy.” She smiled. “Getting warm are
you?”

From where she sat Mrs Walker could see through

the bay windows and net curtains into the street
outside and across the garden gate. The view was
slightly obscured by a huge evergreen that was
getting out of control, it was something her
husband used to cut back every year but since his
death it had been neglected a little.

She didn’t mind the seclusion as in the summer

months she could put a chair out front and sit in
the sun watching the world go by. It also allowed
her to watch for visitors.

This particular morning she was content and

happy. Her pension was small but was enough for
her and the cat to eat and not worry about the
bills too much; she had always been thrifty and
put it down to growing up during the war. People
from that period seemed to manage their money
better, it was the make do and mend attitude, she
thought.

The large clock in the hall ticked the seconds by

and then struck midday. She normally watched the
afternoon news at this time and was about to turn
on the television when a fleeting shadow fell
across the window.

She peered toward the curtains from her seat and

out through the nets. There was a young couple
opening the gate and walking into the garden. The
girl was smartly dressed in a waist length fur
coat and the man had a dark jacket and slacks.
“Oh Thomas…” she sighed. “We have visitors,
Jehovah Witness” I think.”

The old woman put down her knitting and tutted

loudly; she didn’t mind talking to callers
occasionally but this was the third time this
week they had knocked and today she couldn’t be
bothered.
“Only bible bashers.” She said under her breath
to the cat. “If we are quiet they’ll go away.”

The doorbell rang. The cat purred indifferently

as the old woman shook her head.
“I’m not going to answer that; they can stand
there all day as far as I’m concerned.”
The bell rang again.

Mrs Walker’s biggest problem was incontinence. It

was the bane of her life. No sooner had she sat
down and got comfortable or laid down in bed for
the evening then it would start. A sudden tickle
in the pipes would warn her that a shower was on
its way.

It meant frequent visits to the loo and the need

to wear pads if she was going out for any length
of time. The doctor said it was due to an old
bladder infection but she had her own theory.
Mrs Walker had put the condition down to the job
she did for thirty years. She was a laundress and
all day she had to lift heavy bags of wet
clothing.

She had noticed that lifting objects put pressure

on her bladder and after the birth of her fourth
child, Mary, the problem got worse. Now she could
hardly hold it in and this was source of constant
embarrassment for her.

Now as the visitors stood on her doorstep she

felt the tickle that let her know that she’d have
to get to the loo soon or else.
“Oh bother.” She sniffed.

Mrs Walker cursed religion, washing and panty

liners as she pulled herself up from her seat
making Thomas the cat jump excitedly.

The doorbell was ringing again and again as she

crept past the door in her soft slippers. She
imagined what her husband would have said if he’d
been alive as she made her way to the bathroom.

Trevor stopped ringing the doorbell and turned to

Kelly.
“Stay here.” He whispered. “I’ll go round back
and let you in.”

He set off round the back of the one story

building and hunched down as he made his way into
the rear garden. Kelly sat down on the step and
drew her coat collar up around her ears.

It was very cold. The wind seemed to pick up

speed as it shot past her and into the porch.
Trevor removed the screwdriver from his pocket
and then smiled as he realised that it would not
be needed.

The louver windows at the rear of the property

had only rubber frames and were easily removed
just by pulling the rubber seals back.
In no time at all he had removed five panes of
glass and laid them silently on the grass beside
the back door. He pulled back the net curtain and
looked into the kitchen.

Mrs Walker sat on the toilet and let her motion

pass being relieved for a second time because the
ringing had stopped. She guessed that meant the
visitors had gone.

She rose and pulled up her elasticised drawers

and washed her hands in the toilet sink. The
towel was a little damp and she thought a while
in front of the fire would do it good. She picked
them all up and walked in her slow arthritic way
back to the bathroom door.

Trevor hauled himself through the gap in the

glass and stepped into the kitchen on the sink
drainer. His heart was pounding in his chest and
adrenalin pumped through his veins as he
cautiously leapt to the kitchen floor.

Mrs Walker walked slowly through the hall towards

the lounge. This journey took her past the
kitchen door and she held the rail carefully as
she stepped forwards; mindful that she had fallen
once before.

Trevor approached the open kitchen door like a

cat, on tiptoe and listened. He could hear
something but was unsure what it was exactly. It
sounded like soft slippers on a carpet.

Mrs Walker reached the kitchen door and would

normally have walked right past had it not been
for the slight movement she saw out the corner of
her eye.

Suddenly Trevor and the old woman faced one

another and the world stopped for a split second.
Trevor’s eyes opened in terror as the old woman
confronted him. They both looked confused and
shocked and both jumped back a little being
surprised by the other.

The old woman lifted her hand to her mouth and

began to scream. Trevor did the same and together
they stared at each other across the threshold of
the doorway. Screaming like schoolgirls.

He turned towards the open gap in the window and

began to run as she hurled herself forwards
towards the front door. The thought of her being
murdered or raped ran through the old woman’s
brain as she stepped forwards as fast as she
could.

Trevor was through the gap in the window in one

leap and rolling across the lawn; he looked back
to ensure he wasn’t being chased.

Mrs Walker pulled back to street door bolts in a

panic and Kelly hearing the door being opened
stood ready to enter the house. The door was
thrust aside and both women came face to face.

Another scream rang out as Mrs Walker turned on

her heels and ran back into the house. Kelly
watched her go with a confused look on her face.
The old woman didn’t notice the cat run out of
the lounge towards her and she tripped over it
making the animal roar in pain.

The sight of the old woman falling seemed to slow

down and Kelly looked at her go with a sense of
disbelief. The cat went one way and the old woman
went the other as towels flew through the air
like sails in a storm.

As the old woman crunched down to earth Kelly

looked around to see Trevor running towards her,
he grabbed her arm and together they ran from the
property.
They ran into the street trying to cool their
pace so that they would not look too suspicious;
this failed miserably.

The wind blew into the hallway through the open

door and Mrs Walker felt a throbbing pain in her
old hip wound. Then that familiar tickle in her
bladder started to rumble and she cursed again.

As the throb became a buzzing in her ears a pale

shadow passed over her eyes and the old woman
lost consciousness together with any dignity she
had once had.

A warm trickle pooled between her legs as she

remembered the violets she held on her wedding
day; now dead poses flowing down a stagnant
sewer.

Chapter six
Kelly and Trevor sat on a wall some distance away
and lit a cigarette. Kelly’s hands were shaking
and as she poised the cigarette by her lips the
red end quivered in the afternoon light.

Trevor cleared his throat and spat a large green

blob of mucus onto the pavement.
“That was fucking wicked.” He chuckled. “Did you
see that fat bitch keel over?”

“I thought we were nicked…” Kelly replied softly

as she took a long draw from the cigarette.
“Didn’t you see her before you got in the place?”
She raised her hand to her mouth and gasped.
“What if she’s badly injured, that poor woman. We
should call an ambulance.”

“Fuck her.” Trevor replied. “The stupid old cow

should have opened the door.” He cleared his
throat again and spat again as if to punctuate
the comment.

They both fell silent for a while. A woman

carrying a screaming child walked past them both
but paid no attention as she shielded the child
from the cold wind.

In the distance a police siren screamed out as it

chased through the street towards an unknown
emergency. Then Trevor looked across the road to
a large house that loomed from the pavement like
a huge monument.

Standing alone in this quiet street it begged

attention from his inquisitive eyes. He saw the
windows had no nets and that it appeared
unoccupied.
“Let’s take a look at that!” he said softly
nudging Kelly from her daydreams.

“At what?” she stuttered looking around in the

direction that he was looking in. “Oh Trevor…”

They stumbled across the road and up to the front

door of the lonely house. Trevor banged on the
knocker for a moment and then listened through
the letterbox. No sound echoed around the long
passage except for the sound of the street door
being rapped upon.

He took a quick look over his shoulder and then

winked at her. Pushing his shoulder against the
door Yale lock he gritted his teeth and heaved.

The door sprung open as if they had used a key in

the lock; there was not even any damage to the
frame of the door.

“Lovely-jubly!” Trevor smiled dragging Kelly by

the arm and into the property. He made sure no
one had seen them enter and then closed the door
behind them locking it in the process.
“Go and open the back door so we can get out if
any fucker comes back.”

An hour later they returned to the flat and

Trevor emptied the contents of his pockets on to
the kitchen table. Gold chains and diamond rings
tangled into a sparkling ball clumped next to a
selection of notes, tens, twenties a couple of
American twenty dollar notes.

“What a result.” Trevor smiled as Kelly fingered

the chains. She placed the heavy bag she had
carried into the flat on a chair and unzipped it.
Inside was an ornamental clock made of bronze and
guilt.

“That’s nice.” He sighed looked at the clock

intently. “Yes, I bet I could raise a monkey at
least on that. What do they call them?”
“Clocks?” Kelly responded flatly as she tried on
a diamond ring.

“I know it’s a clock.” Trevor sighed. “But these

have a special name, they’re antique or
something.”
“An antique clock?” She responded taking off her
jacket and throwing in across a chair.

“No.” He said trying to look and sound confident.

“I think it’s called French Rococo; something
like that.”
“Oh, flash.” She quipped giving Trevor a broad
smile. “I could get right on a rock-a-coco right
now; give Ray a bell.”

“I don’t want to go down the phone box right

now.” Trevor moaned turning his attention back to
the gold. “Can’t we get a phone installed?”
“They won’t give me one.” Kelly replied as she
plugged the kettle in and switched it on. “I had
one before but I had to knock them after Pete got
chawed.

They won’t entertain it now, not with a couple of

grand owing to the cunts. Cup of tea?”

“Tea?” Trevor snapped throwing the chains back

into his pocket. “I want some gear. I’m going to
have to go and get rid of this tom and then get
in touch with Ray. What are you doing?”
“Having a cup of tea.”

“Fuck the tea.” Trevor huffed. “Come out and I’ll

get you something from Maccidoes. How much dosh
have we got?”

He picked up the notes and quickly counted them

and then thought for a moment. The kettle clicked
off and Kelly opened the cupboard and took a tea
bag out which she placed into a dirty cup.

“Fucking cockroaches…” She slapped her hand on

the draining board and tried to crush them as
they scurried in every direction. “This flat is
running alive…”

“Three hundred quid and a hundred dollars.”

Trevor said counting out four ten-pound notes.

“Take this 40 quid and go to Rays.”

“Do I have too?” Kelly sighed lighting a
cigarette. “I’m fucked..”

“Have a cuppa first…” he continued. “Take this 40

quid and see Ray, get half a gram and a tenna
rock if he has one.”

Trevor thought for a moment and then put another

ten-pound note with the others.
“Here, get a cab back if you want.”
“Oh Trev…” she sighed taking a sip from the
teacup. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to unload the tom somewhere. You know

that place that buys the antique rings and
stuff?”
“Yes.”
“The place by the police station?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll go in there and see if they’re interested
in the clock.”
“You can’t drag that over there.” Kelly replied
taking another toke on her cigarette. “What if
the old bill stop you?”

“I won’t take it now.” Trevor replied giving her

the money. “I’ll just sell then the tom, if
they’re interested I’ll take it there later
otherwise there’s a fence I know who might have
it.”

“Can’t we keep it?” Kelly said looking at the

clock.
“Yha.” Trevor laughed. “It won’t look out of
place in this shit hole will it?”
“This is my home you’re slagging off.”

“Sorry babe.” He smiled. “You know what I mean.”

He looked around thoughtfully for a moment before
going to the street door. “I’ll be back in an
hour; make sure you are back from Ray’s.”

“Trev?” Kelly said softly as he pulled open the

door and began to leave.
“What’s that babe?”
“The old girl?”
“What about her?”

“Do you think she’s okay?” Kelly took a long draw

from her cigarette and looked anxiously at him.
“Sure…” He smiled. “She didn’t get robbed, did
she?”
“No, I suppose not.”

“Is there a taxi available?” Kelly asked the man

behind the desk at the local taxi station.
“Not for half hour love, wanna book?” The man
replied.

Kelly looked across the road and saw a bus that

was going in the direction of Ray’s house at the
far end of the road.
“No, I’ll get the bus.”
She ran across the road and stood at the stop for
the bus to come. She noticed a middle aged woman
looking in her direction but paid no attention.
The bus pulled up and she got on board paying her
fare to the driver and sitting on a seat at the
rear.

The woman who had been looking at her now sat

opposite and continued to look. Her stares were
making Kelly feel uncomfortable and so she looked
directly at the woman as if to as what the
problem was.

“I like your boots.” The woman said casually.

“Really?”
“Where did you get them from?”
“Out of a catalogue.” Kelly lied as the bus
rolled along. The woman continued to look but her
mouth curled into a slight snarl.

“What about the jacket?” She asked aggressively.

“Get that from a catalogue as well?”
“Yha.” Kelly replied. “What about it?”

“I had a pair of boots just like them.” The woman

said. “I bought them in America last year, and
that jacket. They were both stolen recently in a
burglary.”
“Shame.” Kelly replied realising that she had
better get off the bus.

“Excuse me!” The woman said as Kelly stood and

rang the bell. “I’m talking to you.”

“This is my stop.”
“Where did you get those boots and that jacket?”
The woman insisted standing and joining Kelly by
the door of the bus.
“Look love!” Kelly spat. “I don’t know what
you’re problem is but please, go and annoy
someone else.”
“Let me have a look at the inside pocket of that
jacket.” The woman said, reaching out and
grabbing Kelly by the sleeve.

“Fuck you bitch.” Kelly replied.

“Come now ladies!” a man at the door said with a
smile.

“You thieving whore, that’s my jacket you’re

wearing.”
“Get your hands off me.” Kelly shouted pulling
away from the woman. She instinctively punched
out and caught the woman in the eye.

“Fucking stupid cunt; what would I want to wear

your cast offs for; fucking old dog.”

“Charming!” The man said as the bus pulled to a

halt. The driver looked in his rear view mirror
and shook his head.
“Call the police.” The woman shouted. “I’ve been
assaulted.”

“You're lucky I didn’t stab you.” Kelly shouted

stepping off the bus. “Fucking old dog. As if I’d
wear any of your old shit.”

“Where do you think you are going?” The man said

as she walked off towards Ray’s.
“Mind your own business, you nosey cunt!”

Deville opened the glass-panelled door and

coughed. Inside the spacious office sat a man who
was thoughtfully peering through a large window
whilst sitting behind a cluttered desk.
“Can I see you for a moment Sir?”

“Ah, Colin…” the man said glancing around and

motioning for Deville to enter.
“Yes, come in.”
Deville entered the room and gently closed the
door behind him.
“What can I do for you?” The other man said
sitting back in his seat.
“Just one of my hunches.”
“Oh yes?”

The Chief Inspector sat forwards and looked

intently at Deville. He knew his officers well
enough to know that if they came to him with a
hunch then whatever bothered them would be more
than a guess. An attentive expression crossed his
face and he folded his arms.
“Well Colin, out with it?”

Deville took a seat across the desk and rubbed

his chin as he collected his thoughts.
“Well Sir…” He said softly. “I was talking to P.C
Whitley over a pint last night and he mentioned a
case he was dealing with.”
“Yes?” The Chief replied.

“It appears an old lady was assaulted about

lunchtime yesterday. It was passed to him because
although she had intruders nothing was stolen.
So, they are treating it as an assault rather
than an aggravated burglary. The woman’s in
hospital…”

“I know all about it,” The Inspector interrupted.

“Whitley sent a report to Intelligence and they
sent a copy to me.”

“Oh, good.” Deville smiled.

“Please continue.” The Chief Inspector added.
“Although this is Whitley’s case I’d like your
permission to following it up. Either
independently or in partnership with him.”
“Oh yes?” The Inspector asked. “Why’s that?”

Deville relaxed in his chair and waited for the

siren of a passing police car to fade into the
distance. The Chief didn’t appear to be very
enthusiastic about his suggestion and Deville
recognised that he might have to fight his
corner.
“Well Sir.” He began. “Over the past few weeks I
have, well me and Sergeant Young…”
“Get to the point man.” The Chief said abruptly.

Deville cleared his throat and began again.

“We’ve been investigating a series of burglaries;
at least three, by the same team. They have been
rather unusual because of the items taken. I’ll
come to that in a moment. They have all been
dwellings, entered at the rear through patio
doors or Louver windows.

The entry of the old woman’s place was in the

same manner. This series have been distinctive
because, although they appear professional, there
is a sloppiness about them. Also the items taken
have led me to the conclusion that we are looking
for a young couple, a man and a woman, possibly
with children and drug users.”

“The connection with the old woman?” The Chief

asked. “Is it just the means of entry?”
“No Sir?” Deville replied softly.

“In her statement the Old Woman definitely

recollects seeing a young girl as well as the man
who confronted her in the hallway. She said they
were smartly dressed but that the girl was
wearing a short fur jacket similar to a jacket
that was stolen in one of the series I’m looking
into.”

“Hmm.” The Chief leant back in his chair and

looked toward the window again. “So you think
this is your pair of druggies?”
“I’m certain of it.” Deville answered in his most
confident voice.

“I see.” The Chief said vaguely. “Damned

druggies, why the government is pursuing this
policy of prohibition is beyond me; they should
just treat it as a medical problem and proscribe
heroin, cocaine or whatever, it would make our
jobs so much easier. We could focus resources on
real crimes.”
“Quite, Sir.” Deville sniffed.

The Chief clapped his hands together as if to

punctuate his last remark and faced Deville.
“Right, let’s nip this in the bud. In my
experience druggies can be unpredictable, they’ll
do anything to get a fix and what happened
yesterday just proves it.

If we really must do the medical profession’s

work then let’s not waste two separate
departments chasing the same quarry.

If you are certain Colin, and I’m willing to

agree with you on that point, that we are looking
for the same perps on both the series and this
assault I give you permission to take the assault
from Whitley’s mob. Use my name if you have any
problems and keep me informed.”
“Yes sir.”

Both men looked at each other and silence

descended on the room before the Chief raised his
eyebrows and said.
“Dismissed.”

This was Deville’s cue to stand and leave. He

closed the door behind him and made his way back
to his desk which was situated on the same floor
but obscured behind a baffle upon which he had
pinned important phone numbers and a list if
internal department codes.

He sat behind his desk and looked into a drawer.

Inside was a half eaten cheese roll, which he
removed and took a bite from. Looking over his
shoulder and out of the nearby window. He could
see Young standing downstairs smoking a
cigarette.

Deville pressed his intercom and waited until a

click was heard through the speaker.
“Jenny, Love?” he said through a mouthful of
cheese roll.
“Yes Sir.”
“Can you get the name of the officer leading the
local drug squad, the Detective Inspector. After
that I want a call placed through to the local
Social Services department. In the meantime I
want a memo sent to D.C Whitley, regarding the
assault he is investigating.

I think the victim’s name is Walker, or Walter.

Tell him the Chief has handed the case over to me
and I’d like him to send up anything he has
regarding that inquiry.”
“Anything else?”

Deville took another bite from his roll and

thought for a moment.
“Yes,” he replied wiping his mouth. “Sergeant
Young is out back by the motors having a fag,
tell him I want to speak to him please.”

Kelly was in a shop looking at clothes that would

fit the children. She made a selection and went
to queue up to pay for them. The queue was long
and she had time to think about what had happened
earlier that day.
She decided that the jacket would have to go and
decided to dump it on her way home. Eventually
she got to the counter and handed the clothes to
the assistant.
“Can I have your credit card please?” The
assistant asked.

Kelly looked at him and noticed that the other

assistants all appeared to be swiping cards in
their tills.
“Do what?” she said.
“Your card please.” The assistant replied with a
fake smile. “Visa, Diners, Masters, we’ll even
take American Express Gold cards love.”
“I don’t have a card.” Kelly replied.

“Hear that girls…” The assistant said loudly. The

other assistants looked towards him. “She doesn’t
have a card.” The assistant looked down on Kelly
with a frown. “Cheques will do, have you got a
cheque book?”
“No.”

“No cards, no cheques.” The man smirked. “No

business at this counter.”
“What am I supposed to do then?” Kelly asked with
a snarl.

“See over there.” The man said pointing

effeminately to a far corner. “That’s the cash
desk love. Cards and Cheques only at this
counter.” He pointed up to a sign above his head
that said Cards and Cheques only.
“Cash and coins over there.”

Kelly huffed and took the clothes from the

counter before walking to the far corner of the
shop. When she got there she found the counter
was unattended.

Kelly stood there for a moment looking around for

someone to serve her. A woman in a uniform walked
towards her and so Kelly placed the clothes upon
the counter only to find the woman walked past.
“Excuse me?” Kelly said loudly.

The woman ignored her and carried on. It was then

Kelly noticed that only a few steps away was a
street door and she could see people walking past
the shop through it. She shrugged, pushed the
clothes into her bag and walked out. Nobody
noticed or paid any attention.

Mrs Willow held her shoulders back and screwed up

her nose. She had just entered the elevator and,
as the door slid closed, noticed she would be
sharing the journey with the obligatory pool of
stinking urine as well as two freshly laid
stools.

The smell was making her feel sick and she tried
not to look at the stools for fear of inducing a
retching attack. The elevator came to a sudden
stop and thankfully the door opened allowing her
to leave.

On the way out she passed a man who was drinking

beer from a can. He stepped into the elevator and
look at the mess on the floor.

“You dirty cow.” He spat as the door slid closed.

“It wasn’t me.” Willow cried as the door closed.
“Sure.” The man shouted back. “You fucking dirty
cunt.”

Willow shuddered and tried to compose herself

before walking down the unlit hall. Past the
graffiti that warned black people that they were
unwelcome and up to the unpainted door marked in
felt tip pen No 37. She knocked upon it.

Willow felt tired and cold, her husband, who was

retired, had insisted, the previous evening, she
attend a rotary club dinner with him.

It was, she thought, a ghastly event that served

no other purpose then to inflate the egos of
people who had personalities verging upon
megalomania.

She had spent the entire evening being bored by a

woman who insisted that she was a personal friend
of Princess Ann but who didn’t recall the name of
the Princesses husband.

The awful woman had referred to him as “that

horsy chap” for the entire evening. When she had
managed to get away she found her husband
discussing the viability of a special island set-
aside specifically for H.I.V sufferers.
“Think of the savings to the NHS?” He had said as
she approached.

It was an awful event, full of stuffy obnoxious

public schoolboys and it had left her feeling
washed out that morning.

Willow knocked on the door again and she saw the

light in the spy hole dim for a moment. She
knocked again and the door was eventually pulled
aside by Trevor. He peered cautiously through the
crack.
“Yha?” He said abruptly.

“Is Kelly at home?” Willow tried to smile. She

looked over his shoulder and saw the children
sitting on the kitchen floor playing. This was
her cue to push the door slightly to get a better
view.
“Hang on!” Trevor snapped pacing his arm in her
way. He looked her from head to her toe with a
contemptuous sneer. “Where do you think you are
going?”

Willow stopped in her tracks by his arm regarded

him coldly and then announced.
“I’m the children’s Social Worker.”
“So what!” Trevor spat unimpressed.

“I’ve seen Kelly once and discussed the problems

she has had since her husband has been
imprisoned.”

Willow deliberately emphasised the fact that she

knew Trevor was not Kelly’s husband or the father
of the children.
“ I have some news regarding her Social security
payments.” Willow continued.
“She’s not here.” Trevor replied curtly.

“Yes.” Willow sniffed. She peered again at the

children playing behind on the cold floor and
then looked into Trevor’s eyes.
“Trevor?” She said softly. “I want to make sure
everything is okay.”
“What?” Trevor spat. “You a fucking copper now,
eh? Do you think I’m a fucking beast, a nonce?”

“Now you’re being silly.” Willow replied with a

huff. “I’m not a policeman, I’m the children’s
social worker and have been appointed by the
local authority to ensure the children’s needs
are being met.”
“They’re fine.”
“But you are alone with them?” She continued.
“That’s right.” Trevor retorted. “So what? Why
don’t you go and investigate kids who are being
nonced on and leave us alone?”

Willow realised that he was becoming more and

more irate and she thought that it might be
better if she appealed to his humanity rather
than continue to be confrontational.

“Trevor?” She sighed with a small smile. “I know

you have Kelly and the children’s best interests
at heart…”
“Yha?”
“Well so do I.” She put her head on one side and
flashed a row of clean teeth at him.
“Now let me come in and we can talk together,
like adults, about the best way we can both help
Kelly.”

He had left a strip of foil on the kitchen table

and it was stained with gear.
“Okay…” he said softly. “Just wait there for a
mo…”

With that he removed his arm and attempted to

close the door but it was too late, Willow had
already crossed the threshold. He began pushing
the door closed.

“Hang on, my foot.” Willow screamed. “Trevor,

stop being so disagreeable.”
“Fuck you bitch.” He screamed back pulling her
foot out the gap and pushing her and her foot
into the hall.
“How’s that for being disagreeable.”

The old woman fell back and landed badly. She

looked up at him standing in the doorway and felt
incredibly vulnerable.
“Just piss off. He spat. “Leave us alone. We
don’t need your help.”

With that Trevor slammed the door closed. He

leant back upon it and thought about his time in
council care and the social workers he had known
in the past. He remembered how they snooped and
checked and looked into everything but never did
nothing that helped.

He remembered their secret meetings, the ones

that decided to take him away from his drunken
mother, a mother who loved him. They placed him
with a strict Christian family who hated him.
He had the impression that all social workers
were stupid middle-aged housewives who, through
boredom, had got qualified and then took the job
just to keep busy.

They didn’t care about the people they were

charged with helping, all they cared about was
budgets and paperwork. He remembered the way the
Christian family had made him beg God to cure his
mother’s sinful behaviour; every night, for
hours.

When he got angry about this and tried to defend

her they had thrown him out at two in the
morning. He had then been placed in an adult
mental institution, because there was nowhere
else to put him, they said.

He remembered the screaming in the night and how

scared he had felt. Lying frightened between
nylon sheets; in a room with old men who stank of
piss.
All his life the social workers had been
responsible for placing him here and there
without ever asking him where he wanted to go.
Never taking him to see him mother. The only time
he did get to visit her was after she had died.

The social worker had taken him as a teenager

into a small room, pulled back a sheet and
revealed a white face; emaciated and swollen.
“Say goodbye to you mother.” The worker had said
before turning and leaving him with the corpse.
He hated them for that.
“Fucking bitch.” He said under his breath.

Willow, shaking uncontrollably, picked herself up

and dusted down her clothing. She coughed and
cleared her throat before walking quickly to the
elevator at the end of the hall.

Once outside the block she took her telephone

from her bag and dialled in a number. Her
supervisor answered.
“Help, it’s Mrs Willow here…” she stuttered.
“I’ve just been attacked by Kelly’s boyfriend and
now he’s barricaded himself inside the flat. The
children are there. No, he is alone with them.
Kelly is out.”

She paused and nodded and mumbled a little before

saying desperately.
“I think we need to bring the action forwards.
I’m not hurt too badly but I could see he was
drugged up. Yes, bring some support and that Care
Order we got through this morning. I’ll meet you
outside the block in, say, half an hour.”

She hung up and clutched the bruise that she had

somehow got when she fell. Looking up to the flat
on the third floor she bit her bottom lip and
snarled.
“You are going to pay for that, young man. By
God, you are going to suffer…”
Chapter seven
Kelly opened the front door and entered the flat
smiling like a content and happy child. She
carried two plastic shopping bags that overflowed
with food and placed them upon the kitchen table.

Trevor looked at her for a brief moment before

looking back towards the floor. A cockroach
scampered across it and stopped in the shadow of
his foot. Its tentacles probed the air and its
front legs sampled the grease from the floor
before it was flattened by Trevor’s heel.

“Hello Babies…” Kelly cooed towards the children

through the hatch in the kitchen wall. It gave a
view of the sparsely furnished front room. The
twins, dressed in diapers and smeared with jam
that Trevor had fed them with earlier, looked
towards their mother’s face and screamed with
delight.

Both boys stood uneasily and began to run into

the kitchen.
“What’s Mummy got for her babies?” Kelly said in
a cartoon voice that made the children smile.

Trevor lit a cigarette and sucked the smoke into

his lungs, his mouth pulled into a long and tense
frown. As he sucked in another long draw of
cigarette smoke Kelly looked towards him.
“What’s up babe?”

The children emerged from the front room shouting

excitedly. Running up to their mother both
children wrapped their arms around her legs and
looked up towards her with dribble running from
the corner of their mouths.

Kelly opened her bag and pulled out the clothes

she had stolen earlier.
“Mummy has got her little soldiers some new
clothing.” She cried holding the clothes against
the children to judge their size.
“Sweeties…” the boys cried in unison, looking
inside the shopping bags for something sweet to
eat. Kelly reached inside one of the bags and
pulled out a chocolate bar that she opened and
broke into pieces.
“Is this what you want?” she said handing a piece
to each child.
“Sweeties…” they cried happily.

“Well?” She said towards the sullen Trevor as he

sucked cigarette smoke into his lungs.
“Yha nice…” he replied glancing at the children’s
clothes briefly.
“Trevor?” she snapped as the children returned to
ransacking the shopping.
“What?” he said abruptly.

“Cakey…” The children cried pulling out a sponge

roll. Kelly took it from them and smiled.
“Boys?” she whispered. “Let mummy make a cup of
tea and you can have cakey in a while.”
“Cakey.” They smiled.

“Yes Cakey.” Kelly laughed. “Go and watch the

television and I’ll bring cakey in. In a moment.”
She reached into her handbag and pulled out two
small boxes. Inside were two small racing cars
which glittered in the light from the window.

The boys, upon seeing the small metal toys, began

jumping up and down.
“Cars, Cars, Cars.”

“Yes Cars.” Kelly smiled handing the children the

small toys. “Go and play in the font room.”

“Yes…” The children shouted running back into the

other room holding the cars into the air.
“Trevor?” she said again. “What the fuck is going
on?”

“Nothing.” He replied glumly. His petulant

attitude spoke volumes and although he denied it
Kelly could see something was bothering him.
“Where’s the gear?” she said.

“Here.” Trevor replied handing over a piece of

charred foil and a tube. Kelly leant against the
sink and lit a lighter before placing the tube in
her mouth and chasing the gear down the long
piece of foil.

It was instantly soothing. She could feel the

warmth enter her lungs and spread into her
bloodstream. The feeling glowed through her skin
and she felt it reach her brain through the
nerves at the base of her skull. Her hair felt
like it was standing on end as an electric charge
of heroin glowed through her brain.

She sucked another long drag from the fumes

rising from the foil. It crawled up her spine and
spread throughout her body like a charge of
static, relaxing her limbs and slowing her
respiration.
“Trevor, come on.” She said after a long relaxed
pause. “Out with it.”

Trevor saw another cockroach scuttle across the

skirting board. It was trying to hide in the gap
between the floor and the wall but its long
tentacles brushed the bottom of the skirting and
its little legs stuck out.

Trevor waited patiently until the roach made a

dash across the floor. Moving like a lightening
flash it sped past his feet and towards the table
leg. Just as it thought it was safe to stop
Trevor stamped on it, leaving a spattered wet
patch where the creature had previously sat.
“Are you going to tell me or are you going to sit
there pouting all day?”

“It’s that bird.” He said at last, avoiding her

eyes and keeping his own pinned upon the wet
blotch on the floor. “That fucking bitch social
worker.”
“What?” Kelly replied confused by the remark. She
lit the lighter and smoked another run of the
gear.
“What, Willow?”

“That’s the one.” Trevor said softly.

“What about her?” Kelly asked breathing out a
cloud of sweet smelling fumes.

“She came around.” Trevor said reaching for the

ashtray and pushing the cigarette butt into the
pit of other dead butts.
“Stupid bitch.”

““She came around?” Kelly said pushing her

eyebrows together. “When?”
“Just now.” Trevor said lighting another
cigarette.

“And?” Kelly asked taking the foil tube from

between her lips and holding it in her hand.

“Well.” Trevor said softly. He thought for a

moment trying to find the right words to put what
had occurred into perspective.
“I fucked her off out of it.”

“What?” Kelly exclaimed. She stared at him wide

-eyed for a moment. “You did what?”
“I fucked her off.”

Kelly shook her head and tried to think about

what he had said. The words were so simple but
within them were a million and one scenarios. He
could have opened the door and told the woman to
go as she was not wanted, or he could have
screamed at her until she ran away in tears.

The phrase he had used had no meaning and she was

unsure what he had done exactly.

“She wanted to come in and I’d told her you

wasn’t here.” Trevor said hurriedly, turning his
eyes towards Kelly for the first time. Their
gazes met but he looked back towards the floor
again sucking in another draw from the cigarette.
“I had gear on the table and that.”

“Is that it?” Kelly asked. She placed the tube

back between her lips and smoked another long run
of gear. “Well?”

“We argued, okay.” Trevor said after a pause. He

sucked air between his teeth and shook his head
anxiously. “We argued and the silly cunt took a
tumble.”
“WHAT!” Kelly screamed. “You fucking argued and
fought with the bitch?”

“She fell.” Trevor whined loudly. He looked

towards her and his mouth curled into a snarl.
“The fucking bitch was pushing in and all I did
was copped her foot so I could close the door. I
didn’t mean her to fall over, but… well. The
fucking stupid bitch.”

Kelly took a cigarette from the packet and lit

one. Her hands were shaking and her mind started
to rush through images of Willow and Trevor
rowing.

He didn’t have kids and had never been in a

meeting with Social Services when they had
discussed parenting. She knew exactly what they
were like and Kelly knew that rowing with them
was the worst thing you could do.

Suddenly she became very scared. It was something

about the visit she had had with Willow the
previous week. It was unusual and it had made her
uneasy, you couldn’t trust them and all they
needed was an excuse. One little reason to give
them permission to interfere, to look into, to
dissect with great force, everything you were as
a parent.

There had been something in the old woman’s eyes

that Kelly thought had been different; something
that told her to be careful. It was the same
look, a suspicious look, which had been in the
matron’s eyes at the nursery recently.

There was a feeling deep in Kelly’s gut that told

her they were all watching her closely, it wasn’t
paranoia, the feeling was more tangible then
that. Like Peter had said before they locked him
up, just because you are paranoid doesn’t mean
they’re not looking at you.

“Trevor.” She said softly as she slowly crumpled

the foil strip into a tight ball. “You’ve really
fucked it up now.”
“It was an accident.” He shrugged. “The bitch
fell.”
“Sure.” Kelly replied sarcastically. “What else
are you going to do to fuck things up?”

“Aw…” Trevor sniffed. He shook his head and

looked up at her. “Fuck her, she’s only a fucking
snoopier, a paid spy for the government.”

“Yes, sure.” Kelly sighed shaking her head slowly

from side to side. “She’s only a snoopier; to
you; that’s all she is. You don’t realise that
they are snooping around for a bloody reason. The
last thing I need is you throwing your weight
around when they’re here.

You start pushing them and they will start

pushing me; I can do without that shit. I mean.
It’s not like I haven’t got enough fucking
problems already isn’t it.”

Kelly flicked the ash from the cigarette in the

sink and took a hard suck on the filter tip
before shaking her head again and clenching her
teeth.
“Sorry.” Trevor whisper softly, pathetically, as
he rested his head in his hands.

“It’s a bit fucking late for that, cunt!” Kelly

shouted. The children, who had noisily been
playing with the toy cars in the other room fell
silent. Their mother’s voice echoed around the
bare walls of the flat. Then a knock rapped out
from the street door.

On the other side of the door three burly men

dressed in sober dark suits and another woman
stood, with Mrs. Willow, in stony silence. A dim
fluorescent light flickered on and off above
their heads and in the distance the sound of
muffled voices screamed.

Willow’s supervisor reached into his inner breast

pocket and withdrew two documents.
“Are we ready?” he whispered in a voice tinged
with adrenaline and excitement. His companions
nodded and he knocked again.

Inside the flat Kelly was frozen to the spot. She

looked towards the door through a curling sea of
cigarette smoke and held her breath. She could
tell from the way the knock sounded that it was
an official knock of some sort; this filled her
with fear.

You could tell a friendly knock, or a knock from

a neighbour; it was not so forceful. When another
loud knock came again she looked towards Trevor
and bit her bottom lip. Their gaze met and in
that instant a whole book of messages past
between them both.

She threw the foil tube up on top of the

cupboards and he put the roll in a drawer. Even
the children were silent seemingly aware that
something bad was about to happen. When the
banging came again it made them jump. Kelly
looked at Trevor and this was his cue to open the
door.

Without a word he stepped forwards and opened it

slightly. Trevor peered through the gap. The
sight of the three men in suits instinctively
made him want to close the door again.
They may have been the police and if they turned
up in a group you were right to think that they
were not on a social visit.

He had gear in his trouser pocket and he wanted

to slam the door to give him time to hide it, do
it, flush it or throw it out the window. Anything
as long as it wasn’t there when or if he was
searched.

It was too late, although he pushed so did they

and their strength was mightier than his. The
door burst open and caught his forehead. Sending
him violently reeling against the opposite wall.
Kelly ran to the other room and grabbed one of
the kids.

“Don’t move son.” She heard ring out behind her.

Kelly just caught sight of one of the men
grabbing Trevor and pinning him against the wall.
Trevor, flushed with anger was kicking out and
struggling wildly. Another man knelt and pinned
Trevor’s flaying legs down.
“What the fuck is going on?” Kelly shouted
turning. She pulled the youngster to her breast
and stood defensively in front of the other
child.

“Get off me, you muppet!” Trevor screamed as the

first man smashed his fist into Trevor’s face.
There was a loud crack that echoed around the
flat as blood began to stream from Trevor’s nose.

The third man stepped towards Kelly and through

the open street door she saw Willow and the other
woman enter.

Kelly realised at once what was happening. She

knew it was going to happen one day; she had been
sure of it. In fact she was surprised that it
hadn’t happened earlier.
Time seemed to slow down and the sound of
Trevor’s voice became a blur, white noise, in the
background.

She held the little boy tightly to her chest and

the sound of her beating heart filled her head
like a banging drum. Kelly had dreamed about this
very scenario in the past. Now as it unfolded
into her reality the dream became a nightmare,
one from which she would not awaken.

As the man approached her he held out the

documents he carried and she smelt the strong
aroma of pipe tobacco coming from his clothing.

His face was lined and craggy, tuffs of stubble

protruded from his skin where he had shaved in a
hurry that morning. She looked at the large
blackheads on his nose and, for a moment, time
stood still.

She saw two very long hairs extending from his

nose, almost touching the top of his thin, dry
mouth. Kelly looked at the documents that he
thrust towards her but did not reach for them.
The man let go and so they slowly fell to the
floor like leaves falling in autumn.

“These papers have been issued by a local

magistrate…” The man said in a tense voice. Kelly
watched over his shoulder. She saw Willow and
another woman catch up with him and then walk
past where he was standing towards her.

“…They give us the legal right to enter your

dwelling…” the man continued. “…and submit the
children, David and William into the custody of
the Local Authority under the auspices of the
1983 Children’s Act. Namely section two,
paragraph four, Temporary Care Orders.”
“What?” Kelly stammered. “What are you going on
about?”
“It’s all there in the paperwork.” Willow stated
nodding down towards the documents that were now
on the floor.
“No!” Kelly screamed. “You can’t do this, it
isn’t right.”

“We can do this love.” The second woman said

firmly looking around the bare room and crinkling
her nose up. Kelly stepped back and found herself
colliding with the wall as Willow reached out and
took the child, David from her arms. Kelly held
on.
“No,” she screamed. “Not my babies.”

The woman thrust herself forwards and picked

William up, she turned and began to leave the
room. Trevor was screaming and the sound of his
threats, abuse and desperate cries echoed out
like the sound of an animal being tortured.

The man who smelt of tobacco picked the documents

up from the floor and thrust them into Kelly’s
hands as Willow pulled the child from her. David
began to scream and the sound his and his
brother’s voices mixed with Trevor’s wails
creating a dense wall of noise.
“Not my babies!” Kelly screamed as Willow pulled
on the child that she had in her arms.

The scene slowed down even further as the child

was plucked from her grip. Kelly felt his smooth
skin slip from her grasp as Willow ripped him
away; until just his foot remained in Kelly’s
fingers.
“Not my babies…”

The man uncurled each finger and as the child was

tugged away Kelly looked into David’s tearful
eyes. Kelly’s vision blurred as her eyes filled
with tears. She sunk back as the man pushed his
hand into her chest allowing Willow to walk
backwards towards the door.
The other woman who had already scooped William
up was scuttling away through the open street
door. Willow turned and followed her swiftly,
David climbed up the old woman’s chest and looked
towards his mother over Willow’s shoulder.
Kelly’s gaze fell upon the child’s face and, as
he too disappeared through the street door, she
felt her knees buckle.

The man who had been pushing her into the wall
relaxed the pressure and turned to leave.
“You fucking cunts!” Trevor screamed as the two
men also backed out the door.

The thick smell of pipe tobacco lingered on the

air as the flat emptied of its invaders.

“Someone’s going to die for this.” Trevor

screamed towards the hall as the sound of their
muffled footfalls echoed beyond.

Kelly ran to the door, her face swollen and her

eyes streaming tears. She stood framed by the
door opening and bellowed a loud, painful cry
that echoed around and down the hall like a
tormented animal.

Across the floor she could see the opposite flat

too was open and its occupant stood facing her.

The woman stood there in a dressing gown, her

hair under a towel and a steaming cup of tea in
her fingers.
“What’s all the noise about?” A man’s voice
shouted from behind the woman.

She looked at Kelly and pulled her mouth into a

sarcastic sneer before shouting back.
“The junkies are having their kids taken…”
“About time too.” The male voice shouted back.
“Close the door, don’t get involved.”

The woman sucked in air and kissed her teeth

before shaking her head and closing her front
door. Kelly looked down the hall towards the
elevator but saw nothing, the group had gone.

She sank to her knees and cried uncontrollably

hearing a voice carried on the wind. It was a
shrill child’s voice; desperate and woeful. It
floated up the lift-shaft from the ground floor
and bounced down the hall. A screaming child
yelling for its mummy, she recognised the voice
as one of her boys.

Kelly covered her face with her hands and she

felt her tears collect in pools under her palms.
As she dribbled the children’s names, her tears
and saliva ran from her chin in a long, thick
stream of mucus-misery.

Misery that congealed on the hall floor; becoming

a small pond of desperation, which drowned any
hopes of future parenthood, that Kelly once may
have owned.

As her sobs echoed down the hall a small bird

that had become lost and found itself trapped
inside that monstrous edifice, called out.

The sound of its song mingled with Kelly’s sobs

and appeared to commiserate her.

“Kel?” Trevor called. He was wiping the blood

from his nose while trying to sooth a graze on
his elbow. Both injuries throbbed and Trevor
sucked air through clenched teeth as he sat
himself up behind her.

“Kelly?” he called again.

“What?” she replied through her tight little
fingers. Snot and tears trailed from her white
chin which still quivered like a child.
“Let’s have that tube.”

On the other side of town Deville’s intercom

buzzed. He had been reading the Walker assault
file that had been created to hold witness
statements and reference numbers for any evidence
connected with the case.

Devilled had spent the past two hours studying

the witness statements and speaking to
colleague’s in the area drug-squad about couples
active on their patch who fitted the description.

It hadn’t been a useful exercise as all they

could tell him was there were so many drug users
locally it could be any number of them.
“That call to the head of Social Services you
asked for, Sir.” The intercom voice buzzed as
Deville flicked the switch.
“Yes love.” Deville replied. “Have you got
someone?”

“Unfortunately not.” Jenny’s voice crackled. “It

appears all the senior staff are out on a job
this afternoon.”
“I see.”
“I have left your direct number and asked that
someone to call you at eleven hundred hours.”
“Right you are.” Deville replied. “Anything else,
love?”

“Just one thing.”

“Crack on.” Deville sighed lifting his pen and
positioning it above a pad to take notes.

“Uniform dispatch have been in touch, apparently

they were called to a domestic burglary today at
midday. The tenant had been away for three days
and returned to find the front door forced and
the place ransacked.”
“Hm…” Deville sighed. He stretched before
hovering over the pad again. “Anything else?”

“They thought you’d be interested…” Jenny

continued. “…Because a witness had seen a young
couple knocking on the door of the house. The
property is within walking distance of the old
girl that was attacked.”
“Really?” Deville answered. “Did you get the
address?”

He jotted down the address that Jenny read to him

before turning to look at the borough map pinned
to his baffle. The two addresses were close and
he nodded in agreement.
“Right Jenny.” Deville said turning to the
intercom once again. “I’m out for the rest of the
day; if anything important crops up I’m on
radio.”
“Sir.” The intercom clicked as Jenny switched off
her set.

Deville stood and took his jacket from the back

of his chair and pulled it on. He lifted his
leather bag from its position under the desk and
scooped the Walker file into its sleeve before
placing it into the bag. Then he cleared his
throat and headed towards the office exit

Chapter Eight`
A shaft of bright winter sunlight beamed into the
room from a small gap between the curtains. The
bedroom furniture was white with silver fittings:
handles, knobs, latches and hinges picked up the
sunlight and sparkled.

The sound of birds singing quietly filled the

room with hearty morning happiness and combined
with the steady beating of water hitting the
shower screen in the next room; the room estate
agents called the “on suit”.

Kelly opened her tired eyes and run her fingers

over the silk pillowcase as Trevor entered
followed by a cloud of steam.
“Morning babe.” He smiled. “I’ve made you
breakfast in bed.”

He nodded to a trey perched on the end of the

long silk covered divan and Kelly saw a plate
with eggs and bacon, sitting next to a smaller
one decorated with two slices of buttered toast.
“I was having the most horrible dream.” She
whispered.

Kelly pulled the trey towards herself and took a

sip of the coffee. Trevor walked to the bay
window and threw back the heavy cotton twill
flooding the room with bright sunlight.

The quiet road beyond the window was still. The

only sign of life was the tracks in the
snowdrifts that sat on the side of the pavements.
“It was only a dream.” He whispered. “You are
safe now.”

He slipped into the bed beside her and lay back

on the crisp sheets looking up to the ceiling
rose.
“I guess we’d better get up.”

“Hold me first.” Kelly whispered. She pushed the

trey away and lay back in his arms deep in
thought.
“I love you.” He smiled. “You are the most
amazing person I have ever loved.”

“I love you too.” She whispered like a child. Her

knee came up and rested on his groin and she slid
her hand inside his dressing gown to play with
the small hairs on his chest.

“I could lay here all day.” She said after a

short moment of thought.
“We got work to do babe.”
“Okay.” She sighed.

Kelly suddenly threw back the sheets and ran to

the toilet before violently throwing up in the
bowl.
“Are you okay?” Trevor shouted.
“Too much gear.” She called back wiping her
mouth. “It’s strong.”

After taking a few deep breaths Kelly walked in

her bra and panties to the dressing table. She
lifted the ivory backed brush and proceeded to do
her hair. Then she applied some make up as Trevor
pulled a dark suit from the wardrobe, a white
shirt and a red tie.

Kelly opened the jewellery box and placed the

gold and diamond rings on her fingers. Then did
the clasp to a heavy gold bracelet. She looked at
him dressing behind her and smiled as she applied
some lipstick.

“What shoes, do you think?” he asked holding two

pairs for her inspection.
“Wear the brogues.” She replied joining him by
the wardrobe. She reached inside and took out an
expensive blouse and skirt which she pulled on
while he did his shoelaces up.
“I guess you’d better call a taxi.” She said
glancing at her gold Rolex watch.

“I’ll wait downstairs by the phone.” He replied.

Kelly looked at herself in the full-length mirror
and then sat on the bed to pull on a pair of
high-heeled boots.

She took out a jacket that matched and then

checked the bedroom for anything that she may
have forgotten.

Kelly then did the locks on her suitcase and

lifted it towards the bedroom exit. Joining
Trevor in the hall by the front door she got her
leather handbag and smiled.
“Another day, another dollar.”

The sound of a car bibbing its horn outside

caught their attention and Trevor kissed her
gently before picking the suitcase up and opening
the door.

They both walked from the house towards the car

and the driver got out to meet them.
“Shall I put the case in the boot Guv?”
“Yes please.” Trevor replied handing the case to
the man as Kelly got in the car’s rear seat.
“Jesus.” The driver huffed lugging the case into
the boot. “What on earth have you got in that?”
“Oh, just some odds and ends.” Trevor replied
with a smile joining Kelly in the rear seat.

“To the airport?” The driver asked as he slipped

his large frame in beside the steering wheel. He
glanced at the young couple in the rear view
mirror.
“Not today mate.” Trevor replied with a smile.
“Take us to the flats up by Spooner Street.”
“Yha?” The driver said with a smirk. “I normally
get people to pay first if they’re heading to
that shit-hole.”

The young couple laughed and looked at each other

with knowing smiles.
“Quite right too.” Trevor replied. “Just visiting
the poor side of the family.”
“Like that eh?”
“Yes.” Kelly smirked.

The car pulled away and did a left at the first

intersection. As it sped down the road another
car pulled up outside the house they had just
left and a woman got out of it speaking on a
mobile telephone.
“Mum…” she said in disbelief. “When I left
yesterday the curtains were closed, now they’re
all open.”

She paused looking at the house with a shocked

expression.
“No…” she continued. “He’s not due back till
Monday, do you think I should call the police?”

The old plastic electric radio’s clock read

7.30pm as it lay silently on top of the dark
television. It’s smiling face a mocking snarl to
the girl who lay on the floor looking at faded,
dog-eared photographs.
She was looking for something in particular but
Kelly’s eyes were drawn to each one in turn and
she found it impossible to sort through them
quickly.

Each photograph was a half forgotten memory, like

a sound or a smell. Having the frozen image in
front of her induced more wholesome pictures then
a sound or smell could ever do.

The images had sounds and smells of their own,

they had textures and feelings and each one said
something about that particular moment in her
life.

There was a picture of her as a child, her face

full and round. She looked happy but Kelly
realised the truth in that smile. She could
remember the photographer had pulled a face and
this was what she was smiling at.

If the photo could look into that child’s mind,

it would have seen an absent father; a mother
always drinking to forget and a home of brutal
discipline.

Then there was the photo taken of her and Peters

wedding day. It had been raining and the simple
white dress she had borrowed stuck to her legs
and looked thin and insubstantial.

Kelly smirked, the dress was as transparent as

his vows. In the photo Peter looked a wreck, his
eyes were half shut and he was being supported,
one under each arm, by her and his best friend.
Supported just like they had at the registry desk
preventing him from tumbling over in a
barbiturate coma.

He looked so ugly, Kelly remembered that when it

was his turn to say I do the registrar was
willing to accept his slurred dribble as a
response. It was to get the whole charade over
and them out of the office as quickly as
possible.

The registrar had whispered her condolences to

Kelly as they had left the building and added
that she had her deepest sympathy. Kelly found
the photograph she had been looking for and
rolled onto her back to inspect it more closely.

It was of the twins on their first day of

nursery. Tears collected in her eyes as she
remembered that day. It all came flooding back as
if it were yesterday.

They had cried loudly as she left them. Kelly

wanted to go back inside and take them home
again. She hadn’t, there was work to do and money
to be paid, having a newly acquired habit to
support.

She took the photograph and kissed it twice,

hoping that wherever they were, whoever was with
them, the twins would know that she was thinking
of them.

The previous day she had bathed Trevor’s cuts and

bruises and tried to detach herself from her own
pain. After he had held her in his arms and she
had cried like a baby.

It was only after a mass consumption of drugs had

she felt able to go and earn some more money and
think about the situation realistically.

Trevor had looked through the papers left by the

group and explained that it was only a temporary
care order and stressed that it had to be renewed
in 28 days time.

The renewal would take place in a magistrate’s

court and she would be given a chance to demand
their return. He assured her that she would stand
a good chance of getting the children back
because the courts only extended care orders if
the children were in danger.

As they were not nonces or beasts, he said, no

court in the country would deprive children of
their mother’s love and affection.

Trevor helped her think it over and see the next

28 days as a break to get things in order, ready
for their return. She lay in his arms, settled by
his reassurances and numbed by a stunning cocoon
of heroin vapour.

They smoked what powder they had left and then

went out on a job. The first house they had done
had been a breeze to get into, straight into the
back yard and through the patio door. It was then
they found a message addressed to the wife of the
owner. It said:

Sorry I couldn’t be here to meet you

Called away on business.
Give me a call Thursday when you get back from
the airport.
Charles.

They knew that this meant they could stay in the

house all night and so they made themselves at
home. Trevor went and scored and came back with
some food while Kelly bathed.

That night had been wonderful, watching a wide

screen television and drinking the booze that was
in a cupboard. They had even slept-in the
following morning.

Trevor had said that he needed to go and earn

some more cash earlier and he slipped on his
sheepskin jacket while telling her to wait up for
him. That had been four hours ago.

Now it was dark outside the window and the wind

was howling around the flats like an angry wolf
baying at the moon. A dustbin blown over in the
distance cluttered noisily along the pavement as
its contents rose and fell with the snowdrifts.

Kelly closed her eyes and listened to the sound

of police sirens screaming in the night and
thought about her life.

She felt like a hopeless mother, a hopeless

daughter, a hopeless wife and a hopeless junkie.
A hopeless case.

A black cloud wrapped itself around her like a

shroud. It was a manic helplessness which ached
in her stomach and begged her to do something to
stop the pain. It was urging her on to do
something, something dramatic, something that
would end it all; forever.

Kelly stood unsteadily and trampled photographs

and dirty soft-toys as she crept down the stark
hall and past the empty room where her children
should be sleeping. A cockroach watched her in
insect silence and long tentacles probed her
smell.

Cold moonlight shone through the icy window and

lit the unmade beds; casting long shadows on the
dirty bedroom floor. She looked towards the
window and in the half-light she saw the face of
a ghost staring back at her.

It was a face that she thought she recognised. A

face with sunken eyeballs, protruding cheekbones
and tight white skin stretched over bones. It
could have been a pirate flag billowing on snow
drifting seascapes.

It may have been an illusion, she could not

conceive that this face was hers. It was a trick
of the light, a mirage; anything except her own
sorrowful reflection.

Fumbling under the bed in her room Kelly withdrew

a plastic bag covered in a layer of dust and dead
insects. She shook off the dirt and stumbled back
to the kitchen flicking on the overhead light as
she did so.

The harsh white light hurt her eyes and she

shielded them just seeing hoards of roaches
running for cover briefly. They shot under the
skirting board and behind the cupboards. Only the
bravest ones lingered, their tentacles licking
the air in defiance.

Kelly sat at the table and emptied the bag in

front of her. A bottle of stolen Diaconal rolled
out, a forty-mil syringe with a bright orange
tipped needle and a burnt spoon charred by
previous attempts to heat gear.

Kelly took the plastic syringe to the tap

(faucet) and ran the water until it was hot. She
filled the syringe and returned to the table. The
Diaconal bottle had “for oral consumption only”
written on the side in red letters. That made her
smile.

Opening the bottle she spilled the contents on

the table and looked at the small pinkie-red
tablets closely. Two would be enough for a hit,
she thought, four would knock her out and five
would be pushing it. Kelly pulled the plunger
from the top of the syringe and pushed ten of the
small pills into the barrel.

Placing her finger over the open end she shook it

hard and watched the pills dissolve in the warm
water. It turned into a thick, creamy pink fluid
and Kelly carefully replaced the plunger without
losing any from the other end. Then she pushed
home the orange plastic fitting on the end of the
needle.

Kelly flopped her left arm onto the table and

looked for a vein. Being a smoker rather than an
injector meant that her veins were not broken,
blown or hardened like the veins of the junkies
she had known; ones that injected regularly.

She placed the tip of the needle over a blue line

in the fleshy centre of her inner elbow and
pushed the sharp point into her skin.

The needle lifted the skin as it entered her

flesh and she pulled the plunger back hoping to
see blood mix with the pink fluid. Only a vacuum
was created meaning the vein had been missed.
“Get in you bastard.” Kelly hissed.

She withdrew the needle and tried again and on

this attempt she saw a blob of red blood flood
the syringe before she had even pulled the
plunger back. This meant the needle had
penetrated the vein and was now ready to use.

Kelly paused and watched the red blood mix with

the pink fluid and she wondered momentarily if
this was the right thing to do. Was this the
correct thing, whether this was her only option?

The thought rushed through her brain for a

moment, a fraction of a second, a brief interlude
of a moment before being smothered by the dark
shroud that had taken her.

Any decision she would make would be bad, because

that’s all she could do; fuck things up. Her
judgement stank and if it were any different she
would not have found herself in this pit. Only
the cockroaches really understood, she thought,
as one crept across the table towards her.

Kelly clenched her teeth and pressed the plunger.

She realised as the black rubber stopper on the
end of the plunger slid down the barrel that she
was about to become another statistic.

She smiled ironically as she thought about those

people who would say, ahh, another drug overdose;
that’s what happens if you use drugs. They kill
you. This view would conveniently ignore all the
other issues that framed the event historically.

As the rubber plunger past the 40 ml mark she

felt a little light-headed, the skin on her
cheeks glowed bright pink and her breathing
slowed.

As it past 30mls she got the taste of the pink

fluid on the back of her tongue, it was vile and
thick and she thought that she could even smell
it for a moment.

As the plunger went past 20mls the saliva in her

mouth turned bright pink and her ears popped.
Small veins in her forehead started to throb and
she could feel her heart beat faster.

10mls, a bolt of pink lightening shot up her

spine and the blood vessels around her eyes
exploded in a mad fusion of pink stars and blood
red crystals. Multi coloured streamers fell in
her vision and the flickering light became a
strobe of blurred faces and white lines.

5mls and her head spun like the world on its

axis. She saw the floor come up to smash into the
side of her face. Kelly was burning now but only
slightly, blazing now but only faintly. Rocking
like a membrane, a phasing melody of harsh
birdsong scattered along the byway of her being.

Red spot inject able

Flowing
The universal plunger
Knowing
Blue spot inducing
Smile-plastic
Flowing
Burst vessel
Into crimson
She’s coloured
In monochrome
Some you win, son
 Some you loose

Multi headed
Swimming
Falling
Half mil and dying
Green spot frown
Rolling
Multi headed
Falling down
Vile skin
Black and dizzy
Had a shot
Of
Feeling pretty
Slowing melting
Into winter
White spot
Light
Topped
Dead
Centre…

She was walking through a green field when Peter

turned and put his hand on her cheek.
“Come on girl.” He whispered. “Open your eyes.”

The picture became blurred and Kelly had to force

her pupils to dilate. A face came into focus, a
young woman dressed in a nightdress was smiling
at her.
“That’s it love.” She said softly before turning
and shouting loudly. “Nurse, she’s awake.”

Kelly sat up and saw the drip connected to her

arm and realised she was in hospital. The beds
opposite were filled with old people who were
looking at her knowingly.

She had a pain in her kidneys and her nose was

running.
“They thought you’d gone.” The woman said sitting
on the bed. “I knew you’d be alright; I have
visions like…”
“How long have…”

“About three days, love.” The woman said. “I’m

only here to get my tits done. Can you see, I
guess not through all the bandages. But I’ve gone
up three-cup sizes, oh, they don’t half hurt
though. Feels like an elephant sitting on your
chest.”

The woman paused and looked around for the nurse.

One entered the ward and the woman held her hand
up to catch the nurse’s attention.
“I was going to have my vag done too,” She said
through the side of her mouth. “You know,
designer vagina like; but the old man wouldn’t
pay for it. Nurse!”

The nurse started to walk toward the bed where

Kelly was now sitting up and the woman gave her a
big, reassuring smile. Suddenly a set of blue
curtains that surrounded a bed opposite Kelly’s
opened and a matron pushed her head through the
gap.
“Nurse?” she said abruptly. “I need your help,
now.”

The nurse looked across the ward toward Kelly and

her new friend before holding one finger in the
air, mouthing that she’s be a minute and then
disappearing behind the curtain.

Inside she found a very large West Indian woman

sitting upon a shiny metal bedpan being supported
on one side by the matron.

“Mrs Johnson is having trouble passing a motion.”

The matron said with a firm voice.
“I see.” The nurse replied going to Mrs Johnson’s
other side.
“If you could help me support her,” the matron
continued. “She may be able to get some movement
down there.”
“Lord have mercy!” Mrs Johnson wheezed. “I can
feel the trap door open and the bomb’s ready to
drop.”

“I feel thirsty.” Kelly whispered. The woman

poured her a drink and handed it to her looking
around for the nurse.
“You should have yours done…” she said after a
pause. “Not your vag, your tits I mean. What are
you, a B cup? My old man likes a good hand full,
how about yours?”
“He’s not a tit man…” Kelly wheezed. “He’s just a
tit.”
“Oh,” the woman smiled uncomfortably. “Funny.
Nurse, you’re wanted!”

She looked towards the blue curtains and Mrs.

Johnson’s voice echoed out around the ward.
“Holy Jesus, give me strength.” A loud fart
reverberated around the ward.
“Now…” Mrs Johnson shouted. “That’s why there’s a
pain, in con-sti-pain-sion!”

Kelly screwed up her nose and leant forwards to

check her bedside cabinet. She was happy to find
her clothes were neatly folded up inside. Kelly
slowly swung her legs off the bedside and pulled
on her jeans.

“I wouldn’t do that love.” The woman said as she

watched Kelly get dressed. “The nurse hasn’t seen
you yet.”
“Pass me that blouse please.”

The woman did as she was asked and watched as a

half smile, full of confusion crossed her face.
“Nurse…” she shouted. “You’re wanted.”
“I won’t be a mo…” the nurse shouted back from
the other side of the curtain.
“Holy mother of Jesus…” Mrs Johnson screamed as
another loud fart filled the ward.
“This one’s got razors in it!”
The other patients nearest the blue curtains
coughed and gasped for air.

Eventually Kelly dozily unplugged the drip and

pulled on her shoes. She stood unsteadily and
smiled at her friend.
“Tell them I discharged myself.”

“They won’t like that love, you’re not well…”

“Tell me about it…” Kelly coughed as she left the
ward. “…but I know a doctor who’ll make me feel a
lot better.”

Trevor was in the flat when she eventually

knocked on the door. He was in a dressing gown
and a cigarette hung from his lips.
“What are you doing here?” He stuttered as she
came in. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“What time is it?” she said sitting at the

kitchen table.
“About ten.” He replied. “I had a right result
you know, look at all that lot.” He indicated
through the hatch in the kitchen wall.

Kelly looked through and saw a pile of gold, and

lots of other things scattered about on the
floor.
“I had to hide it when I got back and found you
sparko. The ambulance men said you’d been dead
for two minutes.”

“They always say that.” She sniffed. “Got any

gear?”

He pulled a paper fold from his jeans and pulled

a strip of foil from the roll. Pouring on a small
portion he lit a lighter and run the powder into
a thick brown blob.
“Go easy.” He said passing it to her.

Kelly sucked in the fumes and held them in her

lungs for a moment. She looked at her inner elbow
and saw a huge brown bruise there which throbbed
gently. As the fumes entered her body she felt
her runny nose gradually dry up and the pain in
her legs and back subside.
“That’s better.” She sighed.

Trevor looked at her thoughtfully while he lit

another cigarette.
“What was it you were playing at?” he spat.
“Imagine if you’d died?”
“Sorry.” Kelly replied softly,

“Don’t…” he said abruptly. “Just think if you

topped yourself, I’d have no-where to live.”
“Oh yha.” She replied ironically. “Didn’t think
of that.”

He was looking at her with that same look Peter

had the day she told him she was pregnant; like
she had meant to trap or hurt him. Now he looked
at her with a mixture of concern and hate.
“I’m cold Trev, get me a blanket.”

He went immediately and got a quilt from one of

the kid’s beds and threw it across the sofa. She
lay under it and passed him the foil.
“Promise me something babe.” He said tucking her
up.
“What?” she replied softly.
“Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.” He
paused for a second before continuing softly. “I
don’t know if it was an accident or what but for
my sake, for the sake of the kids, don’t.
Please.”

“I want to sleep.” She whispered closing her

eyes.
“I’ll kill you myself if you do.” He said
watching her doze off.
Trevor removed the packet from his pocket and
poured a mound of powder onto the foil shed given
him. He melted it and then plugged the DVD that
sat beside an open suitcase into the back of the
little television and proceeded to put a disc
into the slot.

As a film came on the television he smoked the

heroin and curled up under the quilt with Kelly
eventually slipping into a deep sleep too.

CHAPTER NINE.
Simpson shuffled the Smith file into its folder
and tapped his pipe ash into the top drawer of
his desk. He then hid his pipe in the drawer
beside his packet of biscuits and box of matches.

Simpson’s thoughts wandered to his wife and his

own children. He thought about the little semi-
detached they had inherited in Epping and how
comfortable they had made if for their children.

It had been a lot of hard work, the builders had

been in for six months, but it was worth the
disorder for their current level of comfort and
style.

The way the Smith children had lived was

deplorable. He remembered the look in their
mother’s eyes as he had taken the child from her
arms. The senior social worker shook his head.
Surely even she could appreciate that a warm,
secure unit, with good staff ratios and
institutional food would be better than that
festering family home.

They may end up bullied and shunted from one

institution to another; the staff may even abuse
them sexually or physically. The children may
never be fostered at all but these problems were
better than leaving them in a Godless family
home.
Until a foster family could be found, if a family
could be found, the children would get all the
religious teaching they needed to thrive. Yes, he
reassured himself, it was a good day for
miserable children everywhere.

His smile broke as the telephone on his desk

rang.
“I have a call Mr Simpson.” His secretary’s voice
said at the end of the line. “A Detective
Deville.”
“What’s he want?” Simpson barked.

“I don’t quite know.” The secretary replied.

“Shall I tell him you are in a meeting and take a
message?”
“No…” Simpson said with a huff. “Put him
through.”

Simpson glanced at his wristwatch; it was 11.30

and an hour before the meeting booked in the team
room. The line crackled and a voice introduced
itself.
“Hello, Detective Inspector Deville here…”

“Yes Detective, this is Mr Simpson. Director of

Adult Services.” He swung his legs up onto the
table and looked out through his window at the
snow falling outside. “What can I do for the
police today?”

“Well,” Deville sniffed. “I’m not sure if you can

do anything but I am trying to trace a young
couple. They reside locally and I was wondering
if you may have any information about them for
me?”
“What are their names?” Simpson asked.

“No names I’m afraid.” Deville replied. “We have

a description.”
“No names, eh…” Simpson sighed. He swung his legs
off the desk and removed the tobacco pipe from
the top drawer. “There are issues regarding
confidentiality, of course.” He added loading his
pipe with tobacco.

“We have been after these two for some time…”

Deville said. “They are wanted for some very
serious offences and I am trying to get all the
local services to work with me on this one.”

“I am a firm believer in working partnerships…”

Simpson replied lighting his pipe. “But have you
any idea of the amount of live cases that pass
through this office each month. Most probably
not, we deal with more cases each week then you
deal with each month and we have a backlog that
will take years to clear…”
“I understand how busy you are..”

“In any case,” Simpson continued. “I’m only

personally involved with a handful of cases.
Everything else, individual interviews, case
conferences, home visits are dealt with by our
field workers. They report to me weekly.

So, Mr Deville, a vague description would be

quite useless to me. They best I could do is pass
the information on to my team at this afternoons
meeting and hope that they may flag something up.

I assure you that my team are very cautious about

sharing information with any outside agency and
it could be that they would rather say nothing
then make a mistake. Do you understand?”

Deville sighed and thought about whether to

continue with this line of enquiry.
“Could I give you the description anyway, it may
ring some bells?”
“Is this a matter of life and death Mr Deville?”
Simpson asked puffing on his pipe.

“This couple have attacked an elderly lady in her

own home,” Deville replied before adding coldly.
“They are capable of anything.”
“Despicable.” Simpson replied. “I hate people who
attack the most vulnerable in our society, I
understand why you called and will do what I can
to help. Is the Old Dear still with us?”

Deville smiled knowing that he’d got the right

response.
“Recovering.” He said softly. “The physical scars
may heal but the emotional ones will live with
her.”
“How sad.” Simpson said. “So give me what you
have.”

“Right then.” Deville said clearing his throat.

“Male and Female, both in twenties, possible
early twenties, smart but casually dressed. The
girl may be wearing a waist length fox fur
jacket, she has shoulder length brown hair,
extremely thin, about five foot five in height,
good bone structure in her face. No visible means
of support.”

“Hmm, could be anyone.” Simpson replied. “Carry

on.”
“The male is six foot one, athletic with short
black hair with side parting, a small scar on his
nose at the eyebrow, dark complexion, perhaps
some Spanish in him somewhere. Thin weasel type
features, arrogant and aggressive. Possibly
criminal past or associates, he has a tooth
missing in the front, also without any visible
means of support.”
“Very interesting.” Simpson replied staring at
the Smith file.

“They may be married or living together, one

child or two young children and one or both
parents are opiate drug abusers. That’s the lot.”
“Did you say he had a tooth in the front
missing?”
“That’s right.” Deville replied. “Remind you of
anyone?”
“Mr Deville.” Simpson said softly drawing the
Smith file closer. “Do you believe in
serendipity?”
“If I could spell it…” Deville replied. “I’d
believe in it.”

“This is most peculiar.” Simpson added.

“What is?”
“Well,” Simpson said opening the file to the
first page. “This may have nothing to do with
your enquiry…”
“Let me decide that please.”

“The description you have given me fits almost

perfectly with a young couple we have been
involved with recently. They have been connected
to a fraud investigation by the D.W.P and we had
the misfortune of intervening to prevent abuse of
their children.”

“Who are they?” Deville asked eagerly. He sat up

at his desk and held a pen ready to take notes.
“Look Detective,” Simpson said after a long pause
when he puffed on his pipe slowly. “I’ll give you
this information only because of the nature of
your enquiries. I will do so only with your word
that my help will be kept secret. Under no
circumstances must they know that you got this
information from me.”
“I understand.” Deville said softly
“Do you?”

“No one will ever know where this came from.”

Deville added.
“We have a strict confidentiality policy and if
it got out that…”
“You have my word, as a police officer.” Deville
said softly, he really wanted to scream at the
stupid idiot to spill the beans but realised that
he had to keep his cool. “Who are they?”
“What’s the time?” Kelly asked as she took the
foil from Trevor. She placed the tube in her
mouth and lit the lighter.
“The clock says two, but I haven’t got a clue
what day it is.”

“Shit!” Trevor said sitting up sharply. “I’ve got

to meet John, that fence I told you about. Get
ready and you can come, we might be able to
unload the DVD while we’re there.”
“Do I have to?”
“Come on babe, it’ll do you good to get some
air.”

Trevor stood and loaded the DVD and the other

stuff into the suitcase that was on the floor.
Kelly stood in the doorway unsteadily and looked
in the mirror. Her hair looked lank and greasy,
even with a suit on shed look rough, Kelly
thought.

Trevor cast her a glum look. He took in her puffy

eyes and sullen expression.
“You look like your dog’s just been run over.”
“I feel like shit.” She coughed.

He stepped towards her and held up a gold chain

that had a sovereign pendent on it. He reached
out and did the clasp up around her neck.
“Is that for me?” she smiled.
“Don’t say I don’t nick you anything.” He smiled.

Trevor went to the bathroom and splashed some

cold water across his face and met Kelly in the
hall. He closed the case and grabbed his jacket
from the chair in the kitchen.
“Ready?” He said opening the front door.

Deville was busy picking a huge ball of snot from

his nose as he and the sergeant sat in the car
outside the block. He looked towards the entrance
every time the door opened and checked the face
of whoever left against the snapshot of Trevor he
had got off the police mainframe that was now
pinned to the sun visor.

It was exceedingly cold just sitting in the car

and they were aware that having the heater on for
too long made the windows mist up which was a
dead giveaway if you were on surveillance.

He pulled the collar of his coat up to his ears

and blew into his hands.
“This geezer?” The sergeant asked pointing to the
picture. “Is he going to be on his own?”
“I don’t know.” Deville replied. “The flat is
registered to a tart and her husband. He’s doing
bird and she’s hooked up with another old man.
That’s our target.”

Deville thrust his hands into his coat pocket and

tried to ignore the numbing cold but the windows
were frosting over as they sat there.

Christ sake, he thought to himself, perhaps it

would be better to go back to the station and
deal with this later, otherwise they may freeze
to death.
“He’s got form then?” The sergeant asked.

“Yha, burglary and driving offences.”

“Oh…”

Deville didn’t mind the boredom of surveillance,

not if the weather was warm and they could get a
cup of tea and a sandwich; but this was torture.

He remembered his training about taking a piss

before you left the station and not drinking any
fluids but after a couple of hours that all went
out the window. The trainers had never done any
real surveillance; the closest they got to it was
in books.

They always went on about it in the context of

international crime and top-notch villains.
Although Deville’s experience was of scrotes,
piss heads who’d stolen their partner’s credit
cards. Junkies and all the other shite of
society, that’s what he’d been hunting all
through his career.

Still, the overtime kept his misses in new

magazines and packets of cigarettes. He sighed
and wiped the ice from the side window. One day,
he thought, he might be offered a position in the
flying squad and he would be hunting real
villains at last.

Deville of The Yard, he smiled, before glancing

casually toward the door of the block and seeing
them.

Deville recognised them at once. She even had

that coat on, the one that had been stolen three
days ago and he was dressed in the same jacket
the old lady had described. He was carrying a
heavy suitcase.
“Look who we have here.” Deville whispered taking
the photo down from the sun visor.

The sergeant looked towards them and sniffed.

“Fucking state of them.” He said. “She looks like
death warmed up and he’s a right wrong-un.”
“It’s definitely them.” Deville added watching
them stop outside the newsagents that sat at the
bottom of the block and seeing Kelly nip inside
for something.

Both officers looked away and started to whistle

as Trevor looked across the car park that stood
between him and the plain car they sat in and
squinted. He knew they were old bill straight
away.

“I bet he’s got a DVD player or something in that

case.” The sergeant said softly as Kelly came out
the shop. She lit a cigarette and they both
walked off to the end of the block before
disappearing down an ally.
“Get after them.” Deville said as a tap came on
the side window.”

“Did you see the filth?” Trevor whispered through

the side of his mouth.
“What the old bill, where?” Kelly replied looking
over her shoulder.
“They were there, in a car; outside the block.”
Trevor hastened his step and Kelly fell in line
with him.

“I can recognise them a mile off.” He continued.

“Fat cunts, it’s all the sitting around on their
arses, chain smoking that does it.”
“I didn’t see anyone.” Kelly giggled thinking he
was pulling her leg.
“I’d recognise them anywhere.” Trevor replied
looking over his shoulder to ensure they were not
being followed.
“I burgled a copper’s house once…” he continued.

“How did you know it was a copper’s house?”

“There was a helmet by the front door.” He
smiled. “It was a filthy dump, they all live like
pigs, that’s how they got the name. Anyway…”
Trevor coughed and sniffed.
“I found a truncheon under the bed…”
“No?” she replied with an air of disbelief.
“Serious. There was a truncheon under the bed and
it had a Durex on the end.”
“Leave it out.” Kelly half smiled.
“Yha, that’s where he’d been sticking it up the
wife’s pussy.”

They both giggled.

The sergeant looked around and saw a uniformed

officer standing outside looking in at him. The
sergeant rolled down the window.
“Is this your car sir?” The officer asked.
“Yes, but…” the sergeant replied.
“You realise you are parked in a disabled bay?”
the officer said. “Can I see your license
please?”

“Look you don’t understand…” Deville said.

“With due respect Sir.” The officer said smugly.
“I have asked for your driving license, you have
got a driving license I presume.”
“You fucking nob.” Deville spat taking his
warrant card from his pocket.

“There’s no need for that.” The officer said. He

took the document being offered and his
expression changed. “Oh…” he said.
“Yes, oh.” The sergeant shook his head.

“We’ve been sat here for hours…” Deville spat

taking back his card from the officer. “Just as
our surveillance is paying off some numpty comes
along and fucks the entire operation up.”
“I didn’t realise…” The officer said as the
sergeant started the car up. “Is there anything I
can do to help?”

“Yes.” Deville said winding up the window.

“Resign.”

Trevor dragged the suitcase into John the Fences”

front room and placed it in the centre of the
floor. John, middle aged, fat and balding, had a
cigar hanging from the side of his mouth and was
wearing a string vest. The hair on his back and
shoulders seemed to glow, being lit from behind
by a small lamp on a sideboard table.

John’s real name was Johanne, a German Jew who

was not very proud of his roots. He hated the
stereotype Jews he saw on television and did all
he could to portray himself differently.

This would sometimes mean he denied the holocaust

ever happened. If ever he was asked if any of his
family had died in the concentration camps he
would say yes, they fell from a watchtower.
He was still known as a tight fisted Yid by all
who knew him; even those who thought he wasn’t
Jewish. John considered himself to be a big man
with big ideas.

Saying he had delusions of grandeur would not be

an over-statement. He had even written to
prisoners who were doing life-sentences offering
a letter a week for a yearly cut of their bank
interest.

People like the infamous Kray brothers wrote back

telling him to fuck off and he framed the letters
as if they were from dear old friends.

It was around three years ago that he started to

buy stolen goods, not because he wanted to make
money from the deals but just so he had an excuse
to mix with criminals who otherwise wouldn’t give
him the time of day.

It made him feel special, like one of the boys, a

man of respect. When heroin flooded the British
mainland in the 1980s after the revolution in
Iran John discovered he could encourage junkies
to steal for him in exchange for instant cash.

Sometimes he sold on the gold or whatever but

most times he just hung on to it, slowly filling
his small two-bedroom house with the proceeds of
every house burglary in Essex.

John sat on the edge of his leather sofa and

watched Trevor unzip the suitcase. His face was
expressionless although Kelly knew he was getting
excited by the smell, John had an aversion to
bathing and his body odour would go up and down
dependent on his moods and the daily changes in
weather.

Occasionally his small beady eyes would focus on

Kelly’s legs and these lingering glances made her
feel desperately uncomfortable. Although she knew
how to use his sexual frustration as a way of
manipulating him; she turned and flashed a smile.
“So what you got for me?” he asked looking
briefly at Kelly’s breasts before turning back to
Trevor.

Trevor pulled out the slim DVD unit and placed it

on the floor near Kelly’s legs.
“Nice.” John smiled. “Don’t want it.”

“What?” Trevor snapped. “You know I’m risking my

liberty for this don’t you?”

“They’re two a penny these days,” John replied

looking back towards Kelly’s breasts. “I’ve got
boxes of them in the bedroom.”

Kelly knew the game John was playing, it was

always the same when they turned up unannounced.
She knew that if she played along with his
fantasies they were more likely to get a result
from the deal.

With this in mind she slowly undid her jacket zip

and pushed her shoulders back; pushing the line
of her breasts out.

John smiled greasily and his unshaved chin

wrinkled a little. He sat back and Kelly saw he
was getting an erection which grew behind the
crotch of his thin, nylon trousers.
“Go on then,” He said looking at Kelly and his
erection intermittently behind Trevor’s back.
“What’s the damage?”

“Give us a nifty.” Trevor said cautiously.

“A nifty?” John laughed. “…For that junk, it’s
well pony. Do me a favour.”
“It’s got a remote.” Trevor added.
“You’re having a laugh…” John announced shaking
his head. “What else have you got, Trev?”

“Well…” Trevor huffed. “There’s this Rolex…”

“It’s a snide.” John laughed.
“Fuck me.” Trevor laughed. He turned and threw
the watch into John’s lap. “If that’s a snide I’m
a monkey’s uncle.”

Kelly looked at John as he grabbed the watch and

so he made sure he pushed the side of his hard
cock through the thin fabric of his trousers.

He turned and leered at her again. She responded

by slowly rubbing one of her nipples until it
stood erect under her blouse. John threw her a
greasy smile.

“Look here!” John said after a long pause. “All

Rolex watches have a serial number stamped on
their back plate; all it says on this is Swiss
Made, it’s a snide.”

“Fuck me John.” Trevor groaned. “Give me a nifty

for the watch and I’ll sling the DVD in with it.”
“Trev, mate.” John laughed. “If you go to Asia
you can buy these Rolex’s for fuck all, the
chinks turn them out ten a dozen all day long;
they make them from old Coke cans.”

“Well this isn’t Asia. Just look at this.” Trevor

said turning to face John with a thick gold ring
in his fingers. In the centre of the setting was
a large yellow stone. “That’s got to be a three
caret diamond?”

“I don’t think so…” John protested as he took the

ring from Trevor and inspected it. “It’s a
Tangene I think.”
“John, you’re killing me mate!” Trevor sighed.
“It’s a fucking diamond.”

“That’s why I don’t pay for stones.” John said

throwing the ring back towards Trevor. “The
gold’s worth about a score, scrap.”
John turned his attention back to Kelly’s chest
and slowly rubbed his hard cock.
He winked at Kelly and smiled. Kelly shook her
head and smiled back as if to say what a cheeky
boy he was; flaunting his hard cock right behind
Trevor’s back.

“I like that belcher…” He said taking the chain

that hung around Kelly’s neck in his thick
fingers and using the opportunity to rub the side
of her breasts with the side of his hand.
“That’s the business.”

“You want it?” Kelly smiled as Trevor turned to

see what John was talking about. As he did so
John moved his hand to a less obvious position.
“Pay up.”
“Okay…” He sighed. “You two are fucking murder.”

John rubbed his chin and thought for a moment

before leaning forwards and nodding towards the
DVD.

“There’s a couple of Sweatys upstairs who’ll have

the DVD…” he said slowly. “So sling in the ring
with the moody stone and that Belcher and I’ll
give you seventy quid.”
“Fucking hell John.” Trevor moaned. “That
belcher’s got to be worth seventy on its own.
Make it a ton at least.”

“Eighty?” John replied crossing his arms and

sitting back. “No a penny more.”
“Make it a ton…” Trevor smiled. “…and I’ll throw
in the Rolex.”
“Eighty five.” John said shaking his head. “I’ll
be losing money otherwise.”

Kelly kissed her teeth and shook her head before

slowly taking off the belcher chain and passing
it to John.
“Go on then.” Trevor said with an air of
desperation. “Done.”
“You have been.” John smiled reaching into his
back pocket and removing a wad of notes.
He counted out eight ten pound notes and gave
them to Trevor before putting the belcher chain
around his neck and doing up the clasp.
“Heard you had a bit of bother yesterday.” He
said looking at himself in a small mirror that
hung nearby on the wall.

“Leave it out John.” Trevor replied folding the

notes and putting them in his jeans. Kelly zipped
up her jacket and pursed her lips.

John realised he may have said the wrong thing

and opened a nearby drawer.
“Here’s a pair of gloves Trev, mate.” He said
tossing the gloves toward Trevor. “It’s cold out
there and they may come in handy.”

“Cheers mate.” Trevor smiled. He looked towards

Kelly and she was giving him signals that she
wanted to leave.
“I’ll wear them now.”
“What?” John said acting surprised. “You off
already?”

They made their way to the door and were soon in

the cold street trudging through the snow again.
“Fucking fat cunt.” Trevor spat as he looked
behind to see John standing in his doorframe
looking at them go.

“He makes me feel sick.” Kelly added. “Did you

see the way he was looking at my tits?”
“No?” Trevor said with an air of false amazement.
“What a cunt.”

“He’s always doing it…” Kelly spat. “The

arsehole.”
“Wish you’d told me…” Trevor lied. He tossed the
gloves that John had given him into the nearest
garbage bin they passed before turning to Kelly.
“What shall we do now then?”
“How much dosh have we got all together?” Kelly
asked giving Trevor a wry sideways look.
“Just under a monkey, with the eighty Fatty just
gave us.” He paused and returned the look. “What
do you reckon we should do now?”
“Ray’s, of course.” She smiled.

“Yes…” Ray slurred into a mug of steaming tea. “…

Two hundred quid for an eighth of an ounce. It’ll
be easy to unload in good tenner bags and you’ll
get you’re dough back plus a gram for nothing.”

Ray paused as the fire in the grate popped and

crackled casting long shadows across the warm
room.
“If you’re careful you’ll make a few quid and
have a free habit.”

“Sounds good, in theory.” Trevor sighed as he

took a long draw from the foil tube. The fumes
from the brown blob rose slowly as he chased the
blob down a strip of foil.
“What do you think Kelly?”

“Sounds good…” she replied. “In theory, knowing

us we’ll end up doing the whole lot.”
“Well be careful.” Ray smiled passing her the
strip of foil.

Kelly thought that this would mean that hopefully

they wouldn’t have to continue doing people’s
houses. She was aware, due to the peculiar way
the laws were written in England, that being
caught for dealing small amounts of heroin (a
class A drug) the prison time would be severe
should they be caught.

She caught a glimpse of Ally looking at her

through the corner of her eyes from where she sat
next to the fire.
“Nice boots Kel.” Ally sneered. “Did you nick
them locally?”
“Out of a catalogue.” Kelly replied taking the
foil and chasing a run. “Freeman’s. They were
cheap.”
“Oh,” Ally said looking back towards the fire and
sipping her tea. “I didn’t think you could thieve
things from a catalogue. Did you knock them or
something?”
“I didn’t…”

“That’ll mean anyone who wants a small bag…” Ray

interjected. “Like a ten, I’ll send to you.”
He seemed relieved knowing that with someone else
locally who would be selling small bags it would
take the pressure off him and Ally.
“Nice.” Trevor replied.

Ray got up from his chair and left the room while
Trevor counted out the money onto the table. Ally
looked across at him over the side of her chipped
mug and sniffed.

When Ray returned he passed Trevor the small

plastic bag which contained large rocks of
uncrushed heroin and took the money Trevor had
counted. After assurances that they would return
for more as soon as this was sold Kelly and
Trevor dragged on their coats and left Ray and
Ally to their afternoon routine.
“We’re going to need some more money.” Trevor
said as they trudged through the sleet towards
the flat.

“Not if we sell some gear.” Kelly replied.

“What if no-one turns up?” Trevor said throwing
her a sideways look. “We’ll need some working
capital to get through till our name gets known.”

“Get you.” Kelly laughed. “Working capital;

sounds like you’re the boss of a small company.”
“Yes,” he laughed. “As long as you are my
secretary.”
“Oh yha?” Kelly smiled. “Does that mean I have to
sit on your knee and do the shorthand?”

“I can think of another use for your hand..” he

laughed. “Anyway.”
He paused for a long time while they stomped
ahead and his mood changed. Trevor became serious
and contemplative before announcing abruptly.
“You know what we’ll have to do?”

“Trevor?” Kelly sighed knowing exactly what he

was going to say. “Do we have to?”
“If we do one more.” He continued. “We’ll be on
our feet and it will take the pressure off.”

“I’m beginning to think you are insane.” Kelly

said glumly. “We have enough smack to here to set
ourselves up and you are still thinking about
taking risks.”
“I love the excitement.” He laughed. “Anyway,
it’s the only way. If we can get, say a monkey
together, we’ll have money, dope. We’ll have it
all. No more scraping by.”

Kelly thought about what he had said but still

felt uneasy about it. It was one thing doing
burglaries when they were on the floor but to do
it when they had money, when they had gear; well,
it seemed like they would be taking the piss.

“It’s there Kelly…” Trevor said in her ear. “…

Right in front of our grasp. The end of all our
problems.”
“Okay.” She said softly regretting the word the
moment it formed in her mouth. “Just one more,
tonight, after it gets dark.”

The hours passed quickly and darkness swallowed

the grim estate shortly after 5.00pm. The snow
had turned into a grey slush that sucked in the
soot from car exhausts and other dirt giving the
dirty streets a cluttered look.

The dark and gloomy Heath Estate looked even more

foreboding as the wind blew garbage and bits of
grit through the air. Only the sound of police
sirens split the night-time song of car engines.
Kelly’s flat was warm for once. Having a little
extra money meant she could charge up her
electric key and have the central heating on
without worrying about being plunged into
darkness. Frost collected on the windows in a
grey sludge and water dripped through the split
frames onto the worn floor tiles.

The floor inside the flat was littered with

charred foil and empty lighters. Only the
cockroaches truly felt at home for Kelly had lost
interest in the flat years ago.

She could say honestly that the day the police

came and removed anything of value, weather it
was stolen or not, was the day she realised that
she possessed nothing. That one day, anything or
everything could be taken by a greater power and
confiscated.

Since then she had valued nothing and lost any

desire to make a home for her and the children.
She now waited in the hall as Trevor put two
pairs of socks into his sheepskin jacket and a
screwdriver down the back of his pants.

They tumbled from the flat pulling the rickety

door closed behind them and went to the elevator.
When they reached ground level they stepped into
the cold, dark, street and Kelly looked up and
smiled broadly.
“Look Trev?” she laughed. “It’s snowing again.”

Small flecks of white snow petals fell though the

air and as they touched the ground it was
transformed into an antiseptic white wonder
world.
They embarked on a journey into the crisp layer
of icy white that crumbled underfoot like two
children on a journey into mystery; in search of
untold treasure.
Two silent shadows creeping down dark passages,
past bright telephone booths weighty under a
layer of fresh snow. The street lamps cast their
shadows into rickety statues that moved awkwardly
ahead. Numbed by the frost and bitter northern
wind they glide.

Two angels of a lingering death, down empty

streets, they were nameless and faceless; in
search of the darkened window. Silently into the
quiet street. Looking for a victim made of stone
and brick and glass.

“Jack?” The woman called from the bottom of the

stairs. “Make sure all the windows are locked.”
“Already done, my dear.” Her smiling husband
replied as he swaggered down towards her.

The woman bent forwards and helped her two young

children to put on their coats and then pulled
thick woolly hats down over their ears.
“Nana’s going to be in bed…” she smiled. “If we
don’t get a move on.”

“I get the hint.” Her husband replied coming

towards her with his coat on and the keys in his
hand.
“Get that envelope in the kitchen.” She smiled
opening the front door. “It’s the gas bill.”

“Oh, dear.” He sighed turning on his heels and

going to retrieve it. “Is it really three months;
seems like yesterday.”
“Another three hundred pounds.” She bit her lip
and tried not to worry as she turned to see the
children in the front garden playing with
snowballs.

Jack picked the envelope up and considered his

options. It may be that he had to get a second
job, he worked every hour he could at his current
job and still they just managed to get by.
If he worked evenings and weekends they would
manage better but he’d have no time to spend with
his family. Their time together was limited
anyway and the thought of even less made him
wince.
“Are we ready?” he said joining her in the hall.

“Lock the door properly.” She said as they

stepped from the warm house into the cold night
air. He did as asked and followed her to the
garden gate shepherding the children on the way.

They had left a single light bulb lit in the hall

to give passer by’s the impression that someone
was at home. It was a precaution that they felt
gave them some security until they could afford
to have an alarm system installed.

Jay stood by the gate as her husband walked past

her and unlocked the car door. The children
clambered into the back seat and jay stepped to
the car with the intention of helping them into
their car seats.

As she closed the gate behind her she stopped and

looked towards the end of the street. Through the
thick snowfall she could just make out two
shadowy figures coming towards her. She saw the
glowing tips to their cigarettes before actually
seeing them and as they came closer Jay got a
cold shock through her spine.

A tall street lamp illuminated them from behind

and as the ghostly figures came closer she took a
good look at them. They both had white hollow
faces and they gave her sly, sideways glances.

A boy and a girl, an awful looking pair, she

thought, like two characters from a Dickens
novel. The girl was sickly pale, like a corpse
and eyes like smashed windows. Their penetrating
looked filled her with an unexpected terror.
He was frail, skinny and weasel-like. There was
something in their manner that made her feel
uneasy, Jack, who had been fiddling with the
snow-wipe didn’t even notice the pair as they
slinked by insect-like.

It was the way they had been looking at her and

then past her towards the house that struck the
woman. Then, swallowed by the shadows and the
snowfall they were gone. Leaving only footprints
in the snow as proof that they had passed that
way.

“Dolly-daydream!” Jack called snapping her from

her thoughts. Jay went to the rear of the car and
made sure the children were locked into their
seats before slipping into the front passenger
seat.

“Did you see them?” she said softly as Jack

joined her behind the steering wheel.
“No, who dear?” he said starting the car engine,
“No-one.” She sighed. “Just death and her sickly
friend.”

Jack threw her a strange glance and the car moved

slowly forwards. As the car came to the end of
the road and passed another streetlamp she
glanced out of her window and saw them again.

This time the pair just waited under a streetlamp

in the cold. As the car moved past them she
looked in the side mirror and watched them stamp
out their cigarettes and move back, back in the
direction from which they had come.
“Jack?” she said placing her hand to her mouth.

Kelly and Trevor had been walking for ages

looking for somewhere that seemed unoccupied. It
was useless because the severe weather had kept
everyone, except them, at home in their nice warm
nests.
The only properties that looked empty were ones
that were boarded up and had signs saying
“Repossessed” in huge letters by their doors.

There were plenty of them; in fact the whole area

was looking like a ghost town with boarded-up or
burnt down shops; boarded-up houses and streets
littered with burnt out cars and skips full of
rubbish.

It was purely coincidental that they had walked

past the only house in the area which was going
to be unoccupied that evening as the family left
to visit the children’s grandparents.
“We’ll have that one.” Trevor had whispered after
they had walked on a little.

They saw the family get in the vehicle and

watched it drive past them and disappear around a
sharp bend. No sooner had the lights faded into
the darkness before Trevor gestured that she
should follow him back to the house.

They walked through the garden gate and stepped

up to the front door. Cold fingers were sunk into
socks and the large screwdriver was pulled from
its hiding place.

Trevor stood with his back to the street and

banged it in between the frame and the door while
Kelly covered what he was doing.

He pulled the heavy tool towards him and the

sound of wood splitting filled the night air. The
door was only held shut by a small Yale lock and
Trevor knew exactly how to warp the doorframe,
popping the door open, without causing too much
damage.

Kelly was looking awkwardly towards the road when

suddenly a car pulled up and the doors opened.
“Fuck.” She said softly. “Trevor!”
“Nearly there babe.” He replied pulling the
screwdriver harder.
“Stop it.” She said through the side of her
mouth. “It’s them.”

Trevor heard the words and stuffed the

screwdriver under his armpit inside his jacket
before turning to see two people emerging from
the parked car. His eyes lit up with excited
anxiety and a nervous grin crossed Trevor’s face.

“Alright, you two?” jack shouted opening the

garden gate. “What are you doing on our
doorstep?”
“Hello!” Kelly smiled before her face cracked
into an un-natural grin. She laughed nervously
before adding. “We’re looking for someone.”
“Who?” Jack demanded.

Kelly and Trevor moved away from the doorstep and

past Jack on the garden path as Jay came and
stood by the garden gate.
“John.” Kelly said
“Yha, John.” Trevor lied.

“They’re lying Jack.” Jay shouted from the gate.

“Go and call the police.”
“No need for that.” Trevor said holding his
shoulders back. By now they had almost reached
the garden gate and Jack looked anxiously between
them and his wife only a few feet away.

“We’re going.” He added knowing that if the man

had wanted trouble they would have been fighting
by now.”
“Open the gate Jay.” Jack called towards his
wife.

“That’s right dear.” Trevor snarled towards the

woman. “Do as your husband says.”

“If anything is missing.” Jay said looking back

towards the car and then towards the two people
as they stepped onto the pavement.
“I’ve got your descriptions.”
“Oh” Kelly said sarcastically. “The old bag’s got
our descriptions.”
“Less of that, lady.” Jack shouted

“Call the police Jack.” Jay shouted again. Trevor

reached out to close the garden gate and as he
did so the screwdriver slipped from its hiding
place and cluttered across the pavement.

Kelly burst into shrieks of uncontrollable

laughter.
“You Prat!” She roared towards Trevor. He reached
down and picked the screwdriver up again before
throwing Jay a wink.

Trevor took Kelly’s arm and they run off towards

the end of the road leaving foot falls in the
snow and echoes of laughter on the night air.

Jack walked slowly towards his wife and they both

looked into the snow filled night in disbelief.

Kelly and Trevor ran down the dimly lit streets

and across an old railway bridge laughing all the
way. They were like two wild horses panting and
gasping for air.

Kelly felt as if her lungs were going to burst

but with determination she managed to keep up
with him. Eventually they sat on a wall and
recovered their breath feeling safe by the
distance they had covered.

Deville put the telephone receiver down and

wondered if Jenny ever left the office. She had
called to inform him of the report that the
station had received moments earlier thinking
that it sounded like the pair Deville was
interested in.

“Is something wrong?” Deville’s wife asked as she

saw him cross the hall. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I won’t be eating.” He sighed. “Something’s come
up.”
“But Colin…” she protested as he dragged on his
coat. “I’ve spent four hours cooking.”
“Give it to the dog.” He replied opening the door
and heading towards his parked car.

He called Sergeant Young and asked him to meet at

the old railway bridge near Frith Street. This
had been the direction the pair were last seen;
running hastily. He and Sergeant Young might be
able to pick a trail up from there if there
wasn’t too much contamination.

The bridge was seldom used, particularly at night

and because it was not very well lit local people
avoided it. Deville knew the area very well
having been a foot officer in his youth and that
area was one of his regular beats.

He pulled his car to a halt by the dimly lit

bridge and stepped out into the frozen night air.
There was no sign of Young so while he waited
Deville lit a cigarette. The car radio was on
softly and the sound of Junior Marvin’s Police
and Thieves rang out its haunting melody.
“Very apt.” he said under his breath.

Deville snorted and reached in to turn the set

off. It wound him up hearing all the anti police
propaganda everywhere. It was in the media, on
the radio, everything seemed to say the police
force was full of brutal bastards.

He remembered that when her first joined the

force it was just that, a force. Back then, if
you saw someone was getting out of line, you just
thumped them, the public expected it.

People turned a blind eye when you gave a thug a

kicking in the cells or during interviews if it
got results. People just expected the police to
act that way; they put up with it.
Not now though, every action was watched,
dissected and inspected. If a fault could be
found with procedure, or any of the paperwork,
weeks of investigation would be lost.

The Prosecution service spent more time looking

at the police’s role in any case these days;
never analysing the criminal’s actions and
motives. The whole system was back to front.

Suddenly another car’s headlights filled the

night air and Young” car pulled up in front of
him.
“Alright Colin?” Young said as he stepped into
the cold air and locked his vehicle door. “Hasn’t
the horse bolted?”

“That may be the case.” Deville replied before

pointing to the fresh layer of snow.
“But they have left a trail.”

Sergeant Young looked toward the floor and saw

the traces of two pairs of feet in the snow.

Trevor looked across the dimly lit road towards a

tall, detached property that rose from the
pavement like an imposing, hunched, old man. Its
upper two windows were like eyes peering under
the brim of a fedora, hat-like, roof.

The events earlier had installed in Trevor

nothing but more determination to get one last
job done. Kelly was feeling less enthusiasm for
his idea and thought their lucky escape earlier
had been a warning.

Greed had been the undoing of Peter and his gang.

When they needed money; they took risks. It
seemed to work out nine times out of ten but the
one day an unnecessary risk tips the balance;
they were caught.
“That woman’s face?” She said between puffs on a
cigarette. “If her kids weren’t in the car we’d
been rolling about the floor by now.”

Trevor said nothing before throwing the butt of

his cigarette on the ground and taking her arm.
He pulled her across the road towards the looming
structure and its dark garden.
“Trevor!” she complained. “I’m not sure about
this.”

Taking control of the situation Trevor ordered

her to make as if she was knocking on the front
door while her went to the rear of the property.

The ally that led up the side of the house was

dim and grey but he had enough light, reflected
from nearby houses off the snow, to see where he
was going.

He positioned himself by the rear door of the

property and got to work with the screwdriver. In
a few moments Kelly joined him.
“No one answered.” She announced.

“Keep your voice down.” He hushed. When he found

that the back door was locked too snugly to force
he looked for another way in. There was a set of
louver windows beside the toilet window and he
stepped towards them.

In a few moments he had folded back their

aluminium frames and removed several panes.

Trevor pulled himself up onto the window ledge

and disappeared into the property. Once on the
other side of the back door he drew back the bolt
and allowed Kelly to join him.

They found themselves in a darkened kitchen which

was thick with silence. Kelly’s heart began to
beat hard in her chest and her mouth felt dry.
“Go and lock the front door!” Trevor whispered as
he began to search through drawers and cupboards.
Devilled and Sergeant Young came to a breathless
halt and inspected the trail they had been
following.
“Bollocks.” Deville hissed.

Snow was still falling and as it did so the

tracks were slowly being swallowed under the new,
fresh layer.

“It looks like we lost them Colin.” Young

replied, his breath creating a thick cloud of
condensation as it left his mouth.

“Hang about.” Deville said kneeling for a second.

“Someone stood here and had a fag. Look, that
butt is still warm.”

Young looked where Deville was indicating and a

cigarette sat in a small circle of melted ice-
water. Devilled looked closely and could just
make out the shape of two sets of tracks leading
away from him.

His eyes followed the tracks and eventually fell

on the house looming over the street on the other
side of the road.
“Never!” Sergeant Young said softly.

Deville placed his index finger to his lips and

gestured for the sergeant to follow him and both
men stepped silently across the road towards the
house. They could see freshly made tracks leading
to the front door and then to the rear of the
property.

The two officers stealthily followed the faint

tracks in the snow to the looking house on the
other side of the street.

Deville looked up to the bedroom windows as a

shadow fell across the curtain, he ducked and
pulled the sergeant down with him.
“We’ve got the bastards.” Deville whispered.
“Have you got your radio?”

“It’s right here Colin.” The sergeant replied

pulling open his jacket to reveal a small, two
way radio tucked into his breast pocket.

“Call for back up and then wait here to catch

anyone coming out front. I’ll go inside and see
if I can get them there.”

With that both men split up and Devilled followed

the faint tracks into the rear garden. Kneeling
on his haunches he slipped up to the back door
and saw the panes of glass from the louver
windows that were laid out neatly on the grass.

It was something he’d seen before from these two.

Deville rubbed his hands with glee and reached
up; he pulled the back-door handle and smiled
when the door opened silently.

Trevor greedily busied himself in the main room;

he pulled a fistful of gold from a bedroom drawer
and was totally engrossed by the sight.

Kelly was in the next room and she was making

loads of noise; crashing into wardrobes in the
dark and dropping things off shelves. He shook
his head and cursed under his breath at her
sloppiness and stuffed the gold into his pocket.

In the adjoining room he found her pushing make

up and face cleaners into a plastic bag; the room
had been ransacked and clothes lay all over the
floor.
“Let’s get out of here.” Trevor whispered.

“Can’t I take this quilt?” Kelly said lifting a

thick winter quilt off the bed.
“How the fuck are we going to lug that about?”
Trevor spat shaking his head. “Leave the fucking
thing. I’ll get you a new one.”
Kelly pushed one last bottle of moisturiser into
the bag she was carrying and joined him on the
dark landing. They were about to creep down the
stairs when Trevor stopped dead in his tracks.
“What was that?” he said.

Kelly listened closely but couldn’t hear

anything. She shrugged and pulled a face before
following Trevor slowly down the stairs toward
the street hall and door.

As they reached the bottom stair a shadow passed

the window set high in the front door.
“Fuck!” Trevor spat.

Kelly was about to ask what was up when Trevor

pulled her towards the kitchen. They made no more
than three steps when the kitchen light went on
and the whole scene was flooded with light.

“Fucking hell.” Trevor whispered through the side

of his mouth. “It’s on top. If we get chawed
don’t tell the cunts anything.”

Kelly watched him run into the nearest room and

instinctively chased after him. No sooner had
they reached the window in the that room and
attempted to open the lock when the sound of
footfalls came stomping up behind them
“Stay where you are.” Deville shouted coming into
the room and pointing at Trevor.

Kelly watched as the officer threw himself across

the room and landed with both arms wrapped around
Trevor’s legs forcing him off balance. Both men
fell to the floor and started grappling.

Kelly stepped back and ran from the room. She

turned left and headed to the front door madly
pulling back the bolts. The door swung open and
freedom evaporated, there before her eyes.
The world was out there, covered by a fresh layer
of bright white snow, clean and free and
inviting.

Her sense of freedom came crashing in and Kelly

reached for a mirage, held her thin fingers out,
and grasped.

As her foot left the house and touched the garden

path she smiled briefly as a thick hand grabbed
her by the arm and swung her around. Sergeant
Young pressed his face into hers and screamed.
“You’re nicked.”
Yes, she had realised already.

CHAPTER TEN
The police car sped through the streets of town.
Kelly looked out the window and saw the moon high
above the tall grey blocks seemingly following
the vehicle as it made its way.

The street of grey concrete with its white

covering of snow passed before her eyes. The
familiar streets and places Kelly knew well. She
wondered how long it would be before she saw
those places and sights again.

She felt detached from the situation, emotionally

detached, like she was made from plastic. A two-
dimensional being in a three-dimensional world;
she didn’t fit.

The car stopped at a set of traffic lights and

Kelly saw three men waiting at a bus stop. They
were in their early twenties and they were carry
bags like they had just left the nearby sports
centre.

They looked like close friends, people who

trusted and could depend upon each other. Kelly
wondered why she had never had a true friend and
weather she ever would.
Perhaps there was something wrong with her, no
she concluded, there was something wrong with the
world.

One of the men was smiling at the other two and

he had clean and even teeth. He could have been a
film star, she may have even fancied him a few
years back but now, being plastic, she wasn’t
even the same species.

The men looked towards the police car and one of

them smiled at her. She was going to smile back
when one of the other men mouthed the word slag
and the three started to laugh. She pursed her
lips and looked away.

Sunlight burst through a small slit of a window

high over her head when she opened her eyes.
There was a thin blanket covering her body in the
warm cell and the overhead light was bright, too
bright.

Kelly felt sick, not nearly sick, not quite sick,

not about to be sick, but stomach turning, cough
inducing, vomit making, back aching, cold
sweating SICK.

Her kidneys throbbed like she had been kicked by

a mule and every now and then her arms twitched
involuntarily. She placed her arms around her
aching stomach and cried a little.

Cramped and folded in a corner of a hot and

clammy cell her body ached for heroin, begged for
it. Her mind could only focus on one thing and
that was how she was going to stop this pain from
continuing.

Kelly had only been in the cell overnight but it

was now twenty hours since she did her last bit
of gear and boy, didn’t she know it.
She closed her eyes and projected on the back of
her eyelids was a small blob of brown sliding
down some shiny foil. She clenched her teeth and
sat up.
“Fucking hell!” she screamed before throwing up a
long, thick stream of green bile.

Kelly stood in the vomit and walked to the thick,

steel door and began to hit it with her fists.
The thumping sounds reverberated around the cell
like a bass drum.

Then she shouted at the top of her voice for

someone to come. After banging several more times
she heard footsteps approaching and the small
hole in the centre of the door opened.
“What’s all the racket about?” a voice demanded.

“I need to see a doctor…” Kelly whined. “I’m

ill.”
“You’re not ill.” The voice replied. “You’re
withdrawing from drugs.”

“I need a doctor.” Kelly screamed.

“It’s five thirty in the morning.” The voice said
abruptly. “The doctor will come at nine, till
then keep quiet before you wake everyone up.”

The spy-hole closed again and Kelly heard the

footfalls move away. She began to scream and bang
again.
“You fucking bitch.” She called out. “Come back,
you slag. I’m fucking dyeing in here.”

The sound faded away and Kelly sank to her knees

before puking again, more green bile, from the
very pit of her stomach.
“You cunts…” she screamed. “You’re not human.”

Kelly pulled herself back to the bench and lay

down. The light was so bright she pulled off her
tee shirt and wrapped it around her head. Then
she rolled into a foetus position and sweated.
For some reason she began to think of Peter.
Perhaps he and Trevor would meet in some remote
prison and get banged up together. She wondered
what they would discuss; how she would inevitably
come up in conversation; to watch when they
discovered they had both known her biblically.

Then she thought about their arrival at the

police station the previous evening. The filth,
they were in her pockets, some were laughing as
they pulled out her only possessions, a set of
keys and a hankie.

One of the Cops had pupils the size of saucers

and she could see he was on cocaine or speed.
Then Kelly felt like shit again and the pain was
too much to think of anything else. Then she felt
like crap, she was shit.

Kelly coughed again and this made her retch, her

stomach was empty so the muscles just went
through the motions, tightening up, spasms.

She didn’t hear the person approaching; a key

went in the lock and the door opened
unexpectedly. She pulled down the tee shirt and
could just catch a uniformed officer place a
paper trey at her side.
“Breakfast.” he said before turning to leave.
“Can I have a cigarette?” she asked softly.

The door was closed before she had finished the

word and the sound reverberated around the cell.
Kelly looked at the trey and saw it was divided
into three sections and each section had some
item of food in it.

Cold potato patties in one, cold sausage in the

next and cold beans in the third. With a slow,
forward motion she bent down towards the trey and
vomited green bile into all three sections.
Her jaw was sagging and saliva drooled in a long,
thick stream towards the beans. Kelly picked the
trey up and threw it against the steel door.

She lay back on the bench and pulled the tee

shirt over her eyes again and rolled there in
pain again for an eternity. Suddenly, keys
sounded in the lock and the door opened. A voice
called out.
“Oy.” It shouted. “Get up. You’re wanted.”

Kelly was led through a maze of brightly lit

corridors and past people in uniforms and white
shirts who gave her sidewise glances. Some
whispered behind cupped hands, she heard that
word again; slag.

Soon she was led into a small office and was told
to sit down by the faceless officer who have led
her. There was a small table and three chairs,
two chairs on one side and one on the other. She
sat where directed and waited.

After a few moments the door opened again and two

men entered, she recognised them as the two who
arrested her the previous evening. They sat
opposite, across the small gray table, and
unfolded a file in front of them.

“My name is Detective Inspector Deville.” The

first one said, he indicated to his companion and
added. “This is Detective Sergeant Young.”

Deville waited for a response but Kelly just

ignored them, looking at the floor, her arms
folded in front of her stomach, a trail of mucus
running from her nose.

“Last night…” he continued.” We arrested you

inside a dwelling that you and your friend had
broken into. This was no more than twenty minutes
after you had tried to force entry to another
dwelling not far away in Belview drive.”
Kelly tried to think about how she was going to
get out of this and decided not to say anything,
as Trevor had suggested. Young looked at Deville
with a raised eyebrow.

“I take it you’re intention was to steal from

those two properties?” Deville asked.

Silence filled the room and the two men tensed

up. “We have you already for Domestic burglary
and attempted burglary; in due course you will be
charged.” Young interjected.

“I understand that you have been responsible for

many other similar offences recently and we wish
to ask you about some of these before
proceeding.”

Deville waited for a reply but got nothing except

a loud sniff.
“Kelly, do you understand the seriousness of your
situation?”

Her head moved slowly and the back of her right

hand wiped the snot from her nose. The two men
leaned forwards waiting for something and, after
a long pause, opened her mouth.
“I want to see a doctor.”

“I don’t care what you want.” Deville snapped.

“You are in police custody for some very serious
offences and until you start co-operating we will
sit here; even if it takes all day.”

Both men sighed and Deville sorted through the

file before looking at her again, Kelly resumed
her previous position looking at the floor.

“Now Kelly…” he began. “We know of at least four

other burglaries which are down to you and chummy
downstairs. We are going to ask you about all of
them in order to ascertain your role,
particularly one in which an old woman was
attacked and left in a great deal of pain.”
“What the fuck are you going on about?”Kelly
sniffed. “I don’t know any old woman.”
“Kelly.” Deville smiled smugly. “Well we know all
about it.”

“If you know all about it?” She replied looking

at them briefly. “Then why don’t you charge me?”

“Oh,” Deville added. “We will be charging you,

when we are ready, I just wanted to hear your
side of the story.”

“Really?”

“Yes, before we charge you and matey.” Deville

said firmly adding sarcastically. “Really.”

Kelly looked at the floor again and sniffed

loudly. Deville looked towards Young and
shrugged. He was thinking that he was going to
get the same response that he had got from Trevor
earlier that day.

He wondered why they were wasting their time

going through the motions and should proceed to
the main course. But it was the inspector’s party
and her was just on the guest list.

“Who’s at your flat, Kelly?” Young asked softly.

“Why?” she sniffed.

Both men paused as they noticed that this got her

attention. Kelly sat up and looked at them both.
“We need to search it.” Deville said abruptly.
“Can I come with you?” she said positively
excited by the prospect.

“You will have to come and witness the search.”

Young added. “Are you agreeing to this?”
“When can we leave?”
“If we agree to do an informal search…” Deville
smiled leaning across the desk. “Can I hope for
some co-operation when we get back?”
Kelly nodded.

Within twenty minutes the three of them were

sharing the lift with that morning’s pool of
urine. She led the two men down the dimly lit
hall, past the flickering light and the racist
graffiti and up to the door of her flat.

Kelly fumbled with the key and led the two

officers inside.

“Crime does pay!” Deville sniffed ironically

looking about the empty hall with its foil litter
and discarded children’s clothes.

“Where does Trevor leave the tom and suitcases

he’s nicked?”

Kelly indicated the front room and both men

headed in there.

“I’ve just got to use the loo.” Kelly sniffed.

She went into the kitchen, picked up the foil and

lighter and reached into the cupboard for the bag
of heroin she and Trevor had bought from Ray the
previous day.

Kelly took it all into the toilet and rolled a

tube. Sitting on the toilet seat she opened the
bag and pulled out a large rock of gear before
balancing it on a strip of foil.

She then lit the flame of the lighter and ran the
gear into a brown blob. Up and down, up and down
the foil feeling all her aches and pains subside
with each lungful.
“You alright in there?” Young shouted towards the
toilet as he paused in the search of the flat.
“Fine, thanks.” Kelly shouted back.
After 15 minutes she tore off a large strip of
foil and placed that around the bag of gear with
the lighter.

She found an old bag for toilet rolls on the

floor and wrapped the parcel up in the bag before
pushing the whole lot deep inside her vaginal
cavity. Then after pulling up her panties and
washing her hands she joined the two men.

“Fucking hell!” Deville said taking one look at

her. “You must have needed that shit. It’s done
you the world of good.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “You will never know.”

“We’re not stupid Kelly.” Young spat coming into

the room with another stolen suitcase. “We know
you were doing you’re little bit of gear in
there.”

Kelly looked at him and half smiled. Deville

collected the evidence he could find in the flat
and faced her.

“Now, we played fair…” he said. “You said you’d

play along when we get back to the station.”
“Okay.” Kelly said softly. “If I can see Trevor.”

“I knew this was going to be a mistake.” Young

said loudly. “You just can’t trust these
junkies.”
“Hear her out.” Deville said. “What are you
saying Kelly?”

“I will make a statement.” She whispered. “But

let me explain to Trevor before I do.”
“Fine.” Deville sighed. “Let’s get out of this
shit-hole.”

“Do you mind.” Kelly slurred. “It might not be

much, but it’s my home.”
“Shame.” Young replied picking up a child’s toy
from the floor, his voice etched with a sort of
sadness; not a sincere sadness but more of a
Policeman’s play at such. An insincere comment
designed to cause offence.

The journey back to the station was conducted in

silence. Both men were deep in their own thoughts
and every now and then Deville looking in the
rear view mirror to see Kelly half asleep on the
back seat.

“Are you alright there in the back?” He asked

delivering Kelly a good prod in the ribs.

“Yha, sleepy.” She replied opening her eyes for a

moment and smiling.

Deville wondered what the Desk sergeant would say

when he saw her condition and whether she would
be safe in the cells unattended. These fears
disappeared when they got to the station car park
and she came back to life.

“Matey.” The sergeant shouted towards the

crumpled figure in the corner under a dirty
blanket. “You got a visitor.”

Trevor pulled the blanket back from his eyes and

adjusted his vision sitting up sharply when Kelly
walked into the room.
“Kelly?” he whispered weakly.

Kelly looked behind her at the uniformed officer

who stood in the doorway.
“Can I have a bit of privacy please?” She
shouted.
“I don’t know about that?” The officer replied.
“Go and speak to Deville.” Kelly smiled
sarcastically. “He’ll authorise it.”
The uniformed man turned and she heard his foot
falls fade into the distance.
“Quick.” Kelly said unfolding a small piece of
foil and retrieving a lighter from a discrete
inner pocket.
“Smoke this.”

“Fucking hell Kelly.” Trevor said sitting up

sharply. “How did you…”

“Don’t talk.” She protested handing him the foil

with its large brown blob ready for action.
“Smoke, we may not have much time.”

Trevor did not need to be asked twice and

greedily sucked in the fumes rising from the
foil. He ran the blob up and down and up and down
again until if fizzled into a black stain.

“Keep that piece of foil.” Kelly said pushing a

small lump of heroin into his palm. “You’ll have
to get a light somewhere else; I’ve only got one
lighter and I need it myself.”

“Thanks Kelly.” Trevor said softly. “I’m sorry

it’s come to this.”
“Don’t feel guilty.” She replied pushing his
fringe from his eyes and smiling. “We did what we
had to do babe.”

“You know I’ll get remanded in custody?” Trevor

whispered. “If you can get bail, go for it.”

“They said they would give me police bail if I

made a statement.” Kelly sighed, tears welled up
in her eyes and she realised that this was the
last time she may be able to be with him alone.
Not for a while at least.

“Go for it.” Trevor smiled. “Tell them I forced

you to do it all. That it was all me.”
“No babe.”
“Yes!” he interjected. “It’s the only way, at
least you’ll be able to visit me.”
The sound of footsteps approaching caught their
attention and Trevor hid the things she had
passed him.
“Times up.” The uniformed officer said appearing
at the door.

“Do it Kelly.” Trevor shouted as she walked from

the cell. “Tell them it was me all along.”

It was past six pm before the statements were

signed. The two weary officers looked at each
other as Kelly placed her signature at the bottom
of each consecutive piece of paper. Deville
realised that most of the statement was a
fairytale.

It consisted of half-truths and downright lies

particularly the piece about Mrs Walker. Kelly
said that they needed to use the toilet and
thought the house was empty. Trevor had climbed
in and was shocked to find it occupied.

The old lady had fallen by accident and they were

both too shocked to stay and give first aid.
Still, Deville thought, they had Trevor down for
some serious crimes and he was going to be put
down. He didn’t really care about Kelly, she had
been the bait to catch the fish, so to speak.

Down in the basement of the station Kelly then

had her fingerprints, DNA and photograph taken
before she was led back to the cell.

The following day they were both charged with

several offences ranging from going equipped,
burglary and aggravated burglary. At ten thirty
they were reunited in the dock of number two
Court in front of a lay magistrate for bail
applications.

The services of a court solicitor were paid for

by Legal Aid and eventually Kelly was released on
the condition that she reside at her usual
address. Trevor was remanded into the custody of
the prison service for one week.

This is a euphemism the British legal system uses

when they hold someone in custody for any length
of time up until their eventual court date.

Everyone is aware that you should be returned to

court each week to have your bail re-examined but
in practice this rarely happens.

When Trevor was led down to the cells below the

court he knew he would have to wait until the
next stage in the legal process, the committal
and then wait at least a further six months;
perhaps over a year, before he would next appear
in the dock for the offences he’s been charged
with.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.
Kelly walked back to the estate where she lived
and thought about her life up to then. Perhaps
this could be an incentive to change, get off the
gear and try to sort her life out.

Her pace was light and urgent as she formed a

plan in her head that consisted of getting a
methadone prescription and her children back.

She saw the doctor’s surgery that sat at the

bottom of her block and decided she would go and
get some help. If anyone was going to help,
surely it would be the doctor she had know for
over ten years.

She stepped into the surgery and the receptionist

recognised her at once.

“Hello Kelly.” She smiled behind the counter as

Kelly approached. “Have you got an appointment?”

“No.” Kelly stuttered. “But I need to see the

doctor, it’s an emergency.”
“Right!” The receptionist smiled. “You’re lucky
because we have a cancellation, if you sit down
I’ll get you in after Mr Farlow there.” She
pointed at an old man who sat reading a magazine.
“How are the boys?” The receptionist asked.
“Good.” Kelly replied awkwardly.

She sat on a chair and waited wondering what she

should say when given the chance. All she knew
was that she was motivated to change, to stop
using drugs and get her life in order.

“Are they at school?” The receptionist asked.

Kelly looked at her and wondered if the woman
knew they were really in care and was just
testing her.
“Yes.” She said simply.

“How’s hubby?” The receptionist enquired. Kelly

sighed loudly, the last thing she needed was to
discuss the ins and outs of her problems with a
receptionist in the estate surgery.

“Sorry.” She replied softly. “Give it a rest, I’m

not feeling well.”

“Excuse me for caring.” The receptionist mumbled

under her breath.

Kelly waited and wondered as Mr Farlow made his

way into the doctor’s office. There was so much,
should she tell the doctor about being arrested,
about Trevor, Peter, about the children? It all
seemed so confusing, where to start, what to say
and what to leave out.

Suddenly the door opened and Mr Farlow shuffled

out holding a prescription. The receptionist
nodded towards her and Kelly entered the
consultation room.
“Ah, Kelly…” The doctor smiled. “How nice to see
you again, please take a seat and tell me what I
can do for you.”

“I need help.” Kelly said softly. She felt tears

well up in her eyes and looked at the floor while
she collected her thoughts.

“I see.” The doctor replied making a mental note

of her physical condition. “I am here to help,
now, what is the matter?”

“Well…” she replied in a voice hardly audible.

The doctor leant forwards in his seat and turned
his ear towards her. Kelly tried to form the
words in her mouth but found them stuck in her
throat. She leant forwards and cried like a baby.

“Come on Kelly.” The doctor said softly. “Please,

what is causing you so much pain?”
“I’m a…” she replied.

“Yes?” The doctor said expectantly.

“I’m a…”

“Go on.” The doctor smiled.

“I’m a heroin addict.” She said as tears flooded

down her face. “I’m a heroin addict and I need
some help.”

It was the most difficult thing she had ever had

to say. Admitting that she could no longer deal
with this thing; that she was at a stage where
she could sink no lower, that she needed to ask
for help. She looked at the doctor through the
gaps in her fingers and saw him recoil in horror.

“I don’t prescribe heroin.” The doctor said

firmly.
“No, she stuttered. “You don’t understand, I
don’t want drugs…”
“No!” The doctor said forcefully. “It is you who
do not understand. I do not prescribe those sort
of drugs.”

“But I need help.” She sobbed.

“Not from this surgery.” The doctor insisted

slamming his hand down on the desk. “We do not
prescribe those drugs here.”

He was thinking of the others who had been there

before her, other drug addicts. Some of them were
quite threatening, demanding that he prescribe
them the most dangerous listed drugs.

Only a short while before one had threatened him

with a knife. Demanding heroin, physepton ampules
and other dangerous opiates.

Eventually he had to write the prescription to

get rid of the man.

The man later cashed them at an unsuspecting

chemist. He had never been caught and had not
even paid for the prescription, signing the back
for the NHS to pay the charges.

“Please leave now.” The doctor said standing and

indicating the door.
“Hurry, I want you out of here.”

Kelly couldn’t believe the Doctor’s attitude and

it seemed like she had walked into a farce, or a
nightmare of some sort.
“Alright.” She said wiping her eyes and throwing
her shoulders back.

“Come…” the doctor added. “Please go, I have

other patients to see.”

“Big deal.” Kelly shouted. “You fucking ignorant

cunt.”
The doctor nudged her towards the door and every
prod was like a kick in the very centre of her
pride.

“Don’t touch me you….”

“Yes, that’s it…” the doctor smiled opening the

door to the surgery. “Always the Paki when you
don’t get you’re drugs.”

“I was going to call you an idiot.”

Kelly walked into the waiting room and heard him

call to the receptionist.

“If this woman returns send her away.”

“You fucking arsehole!” Kelly shouted. “You’re

not fit to practice as a doctor.”

She turned and saw the rest of the people staring

at her in disbelief.

“Fuck you as well.” Kelly shouted towards them

all before storming from the surgery and going up
in the elevator to her flat.

Shouting had been therapeutic for her and when

she sat on the carpet in the middle of the lounge
she wasn’t feeling so desperate.

The radio had come on while she was out and she
had to lean across and turn it down giving her
neighbours a rest from the incessant pop music it
played.

After smoking some gear she crawled onto the sofa

and drifted off to sleep. Her skin felt taught on
her bones like telegraph wires; she needed to
rest.
The midday news broadcast began as she closed her
heavy eyelids on the world and the voice was like
the heroin in her veins, soothing and total.
“Lebanon has moved her forces into…”

Kelly was in a bright summer field and small

yellow daisy heads swayed in a summer breeze.
Birdsong rang out softly and if she looked
closely she could see every minute detail of the
creature’s wings and feathers.

“The government has announced new powers for the

police to…”

Kelly found herself gliding above the field of

daisy’s and other spring flowers, the grassy
verge fell away and the breeze lifted her high
into the warm Cyrus clouds and bright blue
horizon.

“The spending review has announced government

plans to limit benefit payments to…

She was unfolding in the sky, like an open book,

the outside was now within her and she felt one
with it. Like the unborn child, warm in the womb,
she felt safe in the cosmic consciousness.

“The body of Lance Corporal… was flown home from

… today…”

Kelly opened her eyes and the room was dark grey.
Lifeless, the radio was now off but its smiling
face still mocked her situation. She closed her
eyes and tried to fade back into that happy place
but was unable too; she needed more gear.

As she sucked the poison into her lungs felt

slightly better, not that she felt sick, just
empty. The flat seemed dead without the children
or Trevor. She would even have like Peter to have
been there at that moment.
Checking the plastic bag she had taken to the
police station, the one that had contained over
two hundred pounds worth of heroin only three
days ago made her feel anxious. It was almost
empty.

She was tempted just to go ahead and smoke the

last of it; but then what. Kelly reached into her
pockets and pulled out whatever money she could
find.

She realised her sum total of worth, after all

the criminal activity, was nine pounds and sixty
pence. Not even enough to get a small bag.

It only took her a few minutes to find a

screwdriver. Deville and his friend had taken the
one she had told them Trevor had used but she
found another one in a bottom drawer. Then she
sat in the kitchen and smoked the last of the
smack.

Kelly was nervous at first, holding the

screwdriver in her small fingers but she felt
confident. She had been trained well.

It was the same as before. Find a house that

looked unoccupied. One that had a look that said,
no-one’s here, come and kick my door in.

Go up to the door and knock so hard that even the

dead would, at least, look out the window to see
what the fuss was. If no one answered glide,
close to the wall, keeping to the shadows, to the
rear of the property. Try to merge with the
brickwork, unseen, stealthy. Look for eyes that
can observe you.

If you feel safe, not just because you are

unobserved, but psychically safe; no hairs
standing up on the back of your neck, no unseen
eyes boring into your brain; then go for it.

She jammed the screwdriver into the frame of the

patio door level with the small aluminium lock
and pulled. Nothing.

The frame had bent out of shape and the lock was
still holding.
“Come on motherfucker.” She spat through clenched
teeth.

Kelly pulled with all her might and fell

backwards into the muddy garden with the
screwdriver in her hand. It had slipped and her
momentum had forced her almost head over heel.

This pissed her off and she stood with a look

that could kill at twenty paces before throwing
the screwdriver at the door in a fit of anger.

It hit dead centre and the glass in the patio

door turned to dust in front of her eyes. There
was no sound of breaking class it just crumbled
into tiny fragments no bigger than grains of
sand.

They sparkled and glittered in slow motion, an

avalanche of soft glass spilling down through the
air into a neat pile by the base of the frame.

Kelly looked at the scene with a confused smile.

She felt like laughing but was nervous. She
crouched down in case the small noise had alerted
anyone and took a look behind her. The garden and
surroundings looked as peaceful as they had
before the incident.

She cautiously entered the building and looked

around the room. It was a dining room with
stained wooden floors and a sideboard. She
remembered Trevor words and looked for the front
door to lock and then worked out an escape route;
then she got to work.
A roll of notes in this drawer, a suitcase from a
bedroom for the DVD, a mobile phone went in her
pocket. Her mouth was dry so she had a sip of
water from the kitchen. Opening the fridge she
saw a large lump of beef and was tempted to take
it but thought about the weight. It was better
left there.

She walked into the main bedroom and stood for a

moment admiring the décor, the bed frame, the
quilt; she would have taken it all if she could;
everything, at that point it all belonged to her.

A few moments later she was walking down the

street dragging a suitcase. It had a set of
wheels and this made the action suitable for a
woman. Now she was a woman of taste, in a smart
coat and expensive shoes.

Now she was any woman of refinement; in her gold

and jewellery, Kelly skipped almost; straight to
a taxi and to the Fence’s house.

A D&G leather bag and a pocket full of money made

her feel strong, respectable, someone of value.
“Wow.” Ally said as she let Kelly into her and
Ray’s house. “You look radiant.”

“Thank you.” Kelly replied as she swaggered into

the lounge.

“Either you’ve been on the thieve…” Ally half

smiled. “…Or you got a sugar daddy.”

Kelly smiled but said nothing; she could almost

see envy in Ally’s eyes, something she had never
noticed before.

“How’s Trevor?” Ray asked getting out the bag of

gear.”
“Gone.” Kelly replied.
Ray looked at Ally who was shaking her head in
disbelief. She picked up her cup and looked back
into the flames that flickered in the grate.

Kelly bought half an ounce and the arrangement

was made for small punters to see her from now on
at her flat.

The five and ten pound merchants who Ally hated

were now sent to Kelly and every morning Ray
turned up and filled her supply up again.

Within two weeks she had a steady turnover and

Trevor was fading into a distant memory.

Twenty eight days after her children were taken

into care she got up early and took a hot bath.
She then prepared the flat for their return, she
had already spent money buying new beds, a new
television, new carpets, new curtains; the place
look different, only the continued presence of
the cockroaches reminded her she was in the same
flat.

As Trevor was no longer living with her Kelly

felt there was no real reason they could give to
keep the children in care. She felt positive
about the possible outcome.

Ray made his usual call about eight o clock and

was surprised to find her up and waiting for him.
Normally he had to knock her out of bed and call
through the letter box but not today.

“Hi Kel…” He said with a smile entering the flat.

“You look really well, putting on weight eh?”

“I have been eating better.” She replied. “I’m

getting the boys back today.” She smiled.

“Good for you.” Ray replied having never been

aware that they were gone. He checked what she
needed and filled her bag up before taking some
money and leaving.
A short time later Kelly was about to leave and
had collected the letter from the social services
telling her where the meeting would be when
someone knocked on the front door.
“Shit.” She said under her breath.

Kelly looked through her spy hole and saw Jessie

Wood standing outside. She was one of the punters
Ray had told to score from Kelly and was the last
person she wanted to see this morning.

Every one called her Messy Jessie because of her

bad personal hygiene; it was a joke. The girl was
just nasty, Kelly thought.

They had known each other at school and in those

days she was just like everyone else, but since
leaving home and the nurturing influence of
mother. Since getting involved with class a drugs
and prostitution the girl had changed.

None of her family talked to her and was

considered by neighbours as a local eccentric.

Kelly opened the door and ushered Jessie into the

hall.
“What do you want Jess?” she said sharply. “I’m
in a hurry.”

“Just thought I’d drop in Kel, you look nice.”

Jessie said with a loud sniff.
“I’m on my way out.” Kelly said looking at her
gold watch briefly.

“Have you got any gear, Kel?” Jessie asked wiping

her nose with the back of her hand.
“You know I have…” Kelly replied. “Otherwise you
wouldn’t be here. How much do you want?”

“A jacks please.” Jessie said looking around the

flat. “Blimey Kel, you’re doing well these days,
look at this gaff; is that a new telly?”
“Yes.” Kelly replied taking a small paper fold
from a cupboard and handing it to Jessie.

“Got any foil Kel?” Jessie said opening the bag.

“I’m in a hurry.” Kelly replied.
“Come on mate.” Jessie pleaded. “I’m dog-sick
here.”

Kelly sighed loudly and tore off a small strip of

foil. Jessie emptied the contents of the paper
wrap on the foil and fumbled in her pocket.
“Got a tube I can use?”

Kelly sighed once more and passed the girl her

tube which was thick with gear that had collected
on the it. Kelly was waiting for it to block
before unrolling the foil tube and smoking it
later.

Jessie placed the tube in her mouth and shuffled

from one foot to another.
“Jess,” Kelly protested. “Can you get a move on
I’m in a hurry.”
“Go a light Kel?”

“For fuck-sake, Jess?” Kelly spat throwing a

lighter towards the woman. “Shall I smoke it for
you too.”

Jessie lit the flame and chased the thick blob

down the foil once or twice.

“Lovely gear Kelly.” She sighed in a puff of

smoke.
“Just pay me please.” Kelly replied. “I’ve got to
get going.”

“Oh…” Jessie said taking another couple of deep

lungfuls. “Didn’t I say?”
“Say about what?” Kelly replied squinting.

Jessie continued to smoke the blob up and down,

up and down before looking up; her pupils now
pinned.
“About the fiver.”

“What about the fiver.” Kelly demanded getting

frustrated by the minute.

“I haven’t got it just yet…” Jessie replied

taking the last gulp from the blob before it
fizzled into a black stain. “I’ll pop it round
later.”

“What!” Kelly exclaimed. “You mean I’ve been

standing here like a complete prat and you
haven’t even got the money?”

“It’s only a fiver Kel.” Jessie whined. “It’s not

like you need it.”

“You already own me a fucking score.” Kelly

screamed. “You just fucking skanked me, didn’t
you?”

“Keep your hair on.” Jessie protested.

“No one does me favours if I haven’t got the

money…” Kelly screamed. “No-one lays gear on me,
I have to risk my fucking liberty for it.”

“That’s not fair.” Jessie said opening the street

door. “I’ll pay you later.”
“Sure you will.” Kelly shouted as the woman left
the flat.

“Oh and Kelly.” Jessie said as she walked off

down the hall. “It was a poxie deal.”

“Fucking bitch.” Kelly snarled under her breath.

She look down the hall and shouted loudly.

“Just make sure you have twenty five quid for me

when you come again; or you can score somewhere
else.”

Kelly looked across the hall and saw the woman

opposite was just collecting a pint of milk. She
sighed under her breath and tried to smile before
slamming the door and screaming in frustration.

It was a quarter to ten in the morning before

Kelly climbed the grand stone steps up to the
portico that decorated the County Court House.

It was a huge imposing building that overshadowed

all the surrounding architecture and filled most
of those entering with dread. The interior had
been modernised in the 1960s and had lost its
grandeur, resembling now any other office in the
borough’s business district.

Easy to clean carpets in a dirty grey swept from

wall to wall and each door had brass fittings to
give a nod to the building’s previous décor. An
intercom system announced indiscreetly an almost
continuous roll-call of people required for any
one of the several court rooms.

She saw her name in one of the listings for court

No3 and made her way to the chamber. Sitting in a
pew Kelly became aware that a divorce was in
progress and the litigants sat nearby anxiously
listening while their solicitors made
representations.

She looked around hoping to see the boys or at

least someone she recognised but only spied bored
adults. Kelly tried to think of the right thing
to say when she got her chance, that the flat was
better, that Trevor was no longer there, the she
would work with the Social Workers.

She would say practically anything, to get her

children back.
“If the court would turn to case 63…” an usher
announced as the divorce case left the room.

The plain suited magistrate, a lay person,

probably an upstanding businessman, followed the
instructions and flipped his paperwork to the
correct page.
Kelly looked up and readied herself. A man she
did not recognise was climbing into the witness
box clutching a pile of papers.

“Your Lordship…” The usher continued. “This case

concerns a T.C.O issued on the 18th day of March;
a short-term place of safety order.”

“Yes I have it, thank you.” The lay magistrate

smiled benignly. He inspected a piece of paper
and looked down at the usher. “Is the Local
Authority in court today?”

“Yes, My lord.” The usher answered. “They are

seeking an extension.”
“Is this correct?” The magistrate asked the man
in the dock.
“Yes, My Lord.” He replied simply.

“Are the children on the At Risk register?” The

magistrate asked.
“No, my lord.”

“What grounds exist?” The magistrate asked

simply.

The usher stood and directed the magistrate to a

page further on in his pile while the man in the
dock also turned to it. After reading for a
moment the magistrate looked up and said.
“Agreed. We’ll consider this again in one year.”

“Thank you.” The man in the dock said collecting

his papers and leaving the witness box.

Kelly wondered what was going on, surely that was

not it, she thought. As the usher asked the
magistrate to turn to page 64 she stood up.
“Excuse me?” She shouted. “Yes you, Mr High and
mighty.”
The men at the bar looked down at her and Kelly
became aware of a court security man giving her a
hard look.
“Does that mean…” she asked. “I’m not getting my
kids back today?”

“Please sit down.” The usher said abruptly. “If

you wish to address the court you must use the
proper channels.”

“That’s my children you have just sentenced.”

Kelly shouted. “Don’t I get a chance to speak for
them?”

The magistrate leant forwards and whispered to

the court usher.
“I believe it’s the children’s mother.”
“Oh.” He replied.

“If you disagree with the court’s decision.” The

man shouted. “You do have a right to appeal. See
the front desk and they will give you the proper
paperwork.”
“What the fuck are you going on about?” Kelly
screamed. “Appeal against what, they haven’t done
anything.”

The uniformed security man took her gently by the

arm and started to lead her away.
“Come on love,” he said softly. “Don’t make a
scene.”

“Don’t I get a chance to speak?” she shouted as

the old man led her to the door of the court.
“Phone your social worker.” The old man said with
great sympathy. “You can’t change anything like
this.”

He led her to the corridor outside the court and

let her arm go.
“It’s not the court’s fault love.” He whispered.
“Go and see your social worker.”
Kelly fought back the tears and headed towards
the court exit.
In the busy street outside she could not hold
back the emotion and stormed through the cold
streets with warm tears rolling down her cheeks.
People looked at her and shook their heads like
she was a monster or something equally unusual.

Kelly saw a taxi and flagged it down slumping in

the back and giving the driver her address. All
she wanted to do now was get home and have some
gear.

The faster she could get there the better. The

driver looked into his rear view mirror and saw
how upset she was and decided that small talk was
not appropriate on this occasion.

He drove a little further and looked again to see

her sitting with a foil tube between her lips,
the smell of an acrid chemical filled his
nostrils and he had to close the glass grill that
separated them.

The next few months passed as usual with Ray

turning up early and Kelly waiting to sell the
small bags of gear to people as and when they
knocked on her door. The first punter would come
around eight fifteen just after Ray had left and
the last may arrive after midnight.

The steady stream of visitors kept her mind off

the children and enabled her to use as much gear
as she wanted without getting into debt. Everyone
knew that Junkies, if provided with a clean
supply, coped well with life and some even worked
to pay for it. Kelly saw this role as a job at
kept to regular hours like any other worker.

It was only when junkies had to find drug money

that problems arose. This is the major argument
for prescribing heroin, dealers would go out of
business if junkies could get gear from a doctor.
But the system was is up to create problems.
Almost force small users into becoming dealers
and spreading the disease.

This meant funding for the doctors who dealt with

the aftermath (abscesses, overdoses, methadone
prescribing) funding for the police when junkies
had to commit crime to fund their habit and
funding for the other services who support
victims. Everyone knew that with so many vested
interests the system would never change.

The fist punter of the day had a ritualistic

approach to scoring from her. He would lurk at
the end of the hall waiting for Ray to leave
before skulking up to the door and knocking. It
was like visiting a temple.

The foil waiting inside was the incense burner

and the gear the incense. The alter being the
kitchen table. The sacred wand was his foil tube
and talisman his words of thanks to Kelly, the
high priestess, before his offerings were
devoured.

Kelly knew the ones to expect after the sun went

down. Ray called them chancers. They would rise
late and then chance that they could raise some
money.

They would raid shops and chance that they’d not

get caught. Then they’d take a chance that
someone would buy what they’d stolen before
turning up and chancing that she’d be in and
holding gear.

They were the dangerous ones. They could turn up

at any time during the night and one time may
chance to rip you off if they felt they could get
away with it.

Ray told her that after six pm to deal to the

chancers through the letter box. Never to let
them into the flat; especially as she was there
alone; they would exploit that.
One night at around eleven thirty there was a
sharp knock on the door. Kelly looked at the
clock and thought it was probably a chancer
wanting a small bag so she dragged herself to the
door and flicked open the letterbox.

“What do you want?” she shouted before looking.

“Is Miss Smith there? The voice said officiously.

Kelly looked through letterbox and saw a

uniformed policeman looking back at her. He had
his helmet in his hand which was their way of
telling you they were on friendly business.
“Yes?” Kelly said softly through the letter box.

“Tomorrow.” The constable said with a puzzled

look. “You are expected at Snairsbrook Crown
Court, Ten am. Don’t be late or an arrest warrant
will be issued.”

With that he was gone. As his footfalls faded

into the distance Kelly closed the letterbox
biting her lip anxiously.

Returning to the front room she sat on the floor

and looked about her. All the work she had put
into the flat, all the effort she had expended so
she didn’t have to break into people’s homes; it
was all for nothing. Her time had run out.

She decided to smoke gear until she couldn’t

smoke any more. It didn’t matter now and beside,
her belly ached. It had for a couple of days and
perhaps, she thought, doing tons of gear may stop
it.

Ray would arrive in the morning before she left

and replenish whatever she had used and she would
just keep his money, keep his drugs and go to
prison, she smiled, with a huge parcel up her
pussy.
She placed two huge spoonfuls of gear on the foil
knowing that people cannot overdose smoking
heroin. Overdoses can, and do happen, if they
inject and use too much, but it’s impossible just
smoking it.

She lit a lighter and melted the brown powder

into a huge thick blob that moved like a snail
down the long strip of foil.
“Fuck them.” She said under her breath. “They’re
not getting nothing.”

She was talking about Ray and Ally, the punters

that may have knocked later that night, the
police, the courts and the prison service. She
was going to keep it all.

Then in a fit of anger she stood up and threw the

new television at the floor and laughed as it’s
glass screen burst into a thousand pieces. She
screamed with excitement as she ripped pictures
from the wall and smashed them into little
pieces.

She ripped the curtains down and threw them out

the window, then ran into the kitchen and stated
to throw the contents of the drawers after them.
Laughing wildly all the time.

“These cunts...” She screamed. “...Are not

getting nothing.”

Cockroaches scuttled everywhere as she disturbed

their nests and Kelly laughed manically stamping
on as many as she could.

After destroying everything she sat in the mist

of destruction and cried like a baby before
smoking some more gear. Her eyelids became heavy
and as her breathing relaxed she smiled.
“Here I go…” Kelly descended into a veil of
dreams.
After Ray left the following morning, slightly
pissed because Kelly had said she wouldn’t have
any money for him for a couple of hours, she
smoked some gear and got ready.

Part of this preparation was making a parcel of

the two ounces of heroin she had, a couple of
lighters, some foil and some Rizla and tobacco.

Then she greased the lump with some margarine and

pushed it up to her cervix. Kelly checked in the
mirror to ensure that it couldn’t be seen before
dressing. Her belly still ached.

She made sure she had some tobacco and Rizla

because she knew from listening to gossip that
the prison officials would not let you take
cigarettes into your cell when you are inducted
as a convicted prisoner.

Upon her arrival at the court Kelly located the

public convenience and found a cubicle. There she
smoked whatever heroin she had left on the piece
of foil she had brought from home.

As the smoke rose from the charred foil she

gasped holding her stomach. The pains had gotten
worse and she felt like vomiting. She leant
forwards and spewed up on the clean toilet floor.

Ten minutes later she stumbled from the toilet

and looked for the court she was due to attend.
Suddenly a man approached her and she recognised
the solicitor who had represented her the last
time she had stood in the dock.
“Mrs Smith?” he smiled.

The solicitor noted her dazed expression and the

weight she had put on and, as she smiled at him,
detected the scent of vomit on her breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked casually.

“I’ve got a belly ache.” She replied.

“Oh.” He said looking confused. “Your barrister
is in chambers.” He continued. “I’ve briefed him
and I understand you are pleading guilty, is that
right?”

“Whatever.” Kelly replied holding her belly and

wincing.
“Are you sure you are okay?” The solicitor said.
Kelly was about to answer when a Court Usher who
motioned her to enter the court called her name.

She was directed to the dock and saw Trevor

already seated there with a prison officer on
either side. He grimaced upon seeing her drugged
condition and remembering his own withdrawal in a
strip cell in Brixton Prison’s remand hospital.

It had taken two weeks and he saw a medic once

who came to the hatch in the door and said
simply.
“You are a drug addict. I am making sure you are
given no drugs.”

The humiliation of the strip cell was one thing

but writhing naked on a cold stone floor was
worse.

He had said his withdrawal was over when it was

not just to get put on the main wing and see some
friendly faces.

Instead of putting him off using gear the whole

experience had just made him angry with the
system. These experiences build resentment in the
minds of men who may have been able to put such
feelings to one side in any other event.

It built blocks on the shoulders where only chips

had previously existed.

“Why didn’t you answer my letters?” Trevor

whispered through the side of his mouth as Kelly
slipped beside him on the bench.
“Trevor…” She slurred holding her stomach. “It’s
not been easy out there. It’s been alright for
you, I’ve had to struggle, really struggle.”

“What about me?” Trevor shouted.

The prison officer, who was behind, him leant

forwards and said in a gruff tone.
“Keep it down.”

Then the Usher stood and shouted.

“All rise.”

Upon this command all those in court stood as the

judge entered from a side door behind the bar. He
swiftly made his way to the large seat under the
royal crest, resplendent in his red robe and wig,
and sat. The people assembled also sat.

Trevor said not another word. His mind was fixed

on the stage and scene being acted out around
him. He stood and pleaded Guilty when asked and
then listened with interest to the mitigation
presented by the barrister on his behalf.

Kelly stood and pleaded Guilty when asked and

then listened to her mitigation, they both felt
that it was more like an obituary rather than a
sincere representation of the motive behind their
actions.

Once the representations had been made Kelly

looked up and saw the judge wink at the barrister
as if to say, you gave it your best shot, well
done.

She would have laughed at the ridiculousness of

it all had she not been in such pain. The judge
had already decided what the weigh off would be
for them both and it seemed that the whole
charade was like a pantomime unfolding for the
audience’s pleasure.
“Would the accused stand?” The judge said in a
firm tone looking at them both menacingly. Trevor
and Kelly rose to their feet and she had to reach
out for the bar to steady herself, feeling faint.

“I have considered your mitigation.” The judge

said. “Is there anything you want me to know
before the sentence of this court is passed?”

Trevor shook his head and Kelly mouthed the word

no.
“You,” he said looking towards Trevor. “Have an
atrocious criminal record that dates back over
twenty years.

You have previously been sentenced to no less

than three terms of imprisonment and you are
currently in breach of a suspended order. Nothing
seems to deter you from your vile crimes and it
appears that spells in prison are no more than
short interludes in your criminal career.

Today you have pleaded guilty to a whole litany

of offences, which, although the public purse has
been saved, cannot be underestimated. I have no
choice but to sentence you to another immediate
term of imprisonment.”

The judge shuffled his papers and looked at

Trevor with disgust.

“On the first count of the indictment I sentence

you to 22 months, on the second count, 22 months,
on the third count, six months, all these shall
run concurrently.

You shall also serve the twelve month suspended

term which had been imposed earlier, this shall
be served consecutively to the previous
indictments. Take him down!”

Trevor smiled as he was led down the steps away

from the dock by the prison officer trying to
work out how long he would have to do, he worked
it out to thirty four months, just over three
years, it was a result.

Kelly was horrified not understanding the meaning

of concurrent and consecutive orders and thinking
he had been given sixty-two months. She looked at
the judge and tried to focus on his words.

“Mrs Smith!” he began regarding her with an air

of distaste. “I have considered your plea of
mitigation and I am inclined to agree that came
under the influence of your much experienced co-
accused.

This is not an excuse for you to act in such a

deplorable way neither is being a drug addict.
While I understand the complications drug
addiction causes to its victims, and society as a
whole, I have to treat such behaviour within the
limits of current legislation.”

He paused for breath and Kelly felt a wet rushing

between her legs and a warm flow of fluid. She
looked down and saw a puddle of clear liquid
around her shoes and wondered if she had
involuntarily urinated.

The parcel was still in position and she bit her

lip horrified by the realisation that she may be
giving birth.

“For the record…” the judge continued. “A woman

who is the soul guardian of small children should
not hope for leniency because her actions may
deprive the children of their main carer.

Indeed, she should have thought about this prior

to acting in such an anti-social fashion and
committing herself to a criminal enterprise.”

Kelly became aware that two female prison

officers now stood on either side of her and
readied themselves to lead her away.
“It only remains to remind you…” the judge
continued getting into his stride. “That, as a
young person with as much human potential as any
of your peers, you have time to change. If you
persist in using that potential in such a
negative fashion you can expect the court to
treat your behaviour as a statement of war. Your
life will remain wasted and fruitless, but…”

The judge looked over the bar and gave her a

benign smile.

“…If this episode enables you to make a new

start, to put the mistakes you have made behind
you then it would not have been in vain.

You may still lead an industrious and fruitful

life for the benefit of yourself and those
children already mentioned. The choice is yours
young lady.”

Here it comes, she thought. Taking a deep breath

Kelly realised that the spasms in her stomach
were getting closer together.

How great would that be, she thought, firstly

giving birth to a parcel of gear before dropping
a kid as a punctuation mark to his summing up.
“On the first count I sentence you to a period of
eighteen months.”

Fucking hell, she thought, a year and a half.

“On the second count, eighteen months.”

Jesus, she thought, that’s three years.

“On the third count, six months…”

“That’s fucking three and a half years.” She

sighed breathlessly.

“…to run concurrently. Take her down.”

The prison officers took her arms and led her
into the bowels of the court.

“Three and a half years…” she cried as they led

her towards a dirty cell in the basement.

“Don’t be stupid.” One of the officers said. “He

said they’re running concurrently, that’s
eighteen months in whole and you’ll get paroled
in half that; you’ve had a result girl.”
“Oh.” She thought.

They led her through a dirty corridor and past

several strong doors.
“I need to see a doctor.” She said as they opened
one of the doors. “I’m…”
“You’ll see a doctor at the prison reception. A
van will be here in a couple of hours.”

Kelly was pushed into a small cell alone and the

two women officers withdrew.
“Get some sleep.” One laughed.

With that the door was slammed behind her and the
sound reverberated out around the room.

“This one’s a junkie.” The prison officer shouted

to the warden who controlled the cells.
“Oh right.” He replied.

“If she wants a doctor tell her she’ll see one at

the nick.”

Kelly sat back on the stone bench and looked

around, the graffiti on the walls bore witness to
others who had passed that way.

There was a message from Dick who got six months

two years ago. There was a scrawled indictment of
Mary Pressman’s sexual status and a note
reminding God to put the milk bottles out.

She bent forwards and groaned as the pains in her

gut made their presence felt. Kelly panted hard,
as she had done when the twins were due, she
hadn’t even realised she was pregnant this time.

Her period had stopped a week after using heroin

and she never used protection when she and Trevor
had made love. Now, thinking about it, all the
symptoms had been there from the start. The
morning sickness, the weight increase; she cursed
herself for not realising sooner.

Kelly went to the door and banged. The sound of

her banging echoed down the hall and was met with
silence. She banged again.

“Get off that door…” a voice shouted back. “Or

I’ll put you on a charge.”
“I need to see a doctor.” She shouted.
“Don’t we all love.” the sarcastic officer
replied.

She hunched down and panted hard, the pains were

coming every couple of seconds now and she felt
movement deep inside her womb. Kelly reached down
and scooped out the package she had pushed inside
her earlier and placed it on the floor seconds
later she groaned and screamed.

The child flopped onto the floor between her legs

like a small pink doll. The relief was palpable
but Kelly could only look down at the small child
in amazement.
“Help me.” She called.

She picked the child up and held it to her

breast, a small girl, her fingers wrinkled and
pink with tiny cuticles and fingernails. Kelly
pushed again hard and felt the afterbirth fall
between her legs.

It splattered onto the cold concrete and leaked

fluid formed a pool of glistening slim. Kelly
looked down at the bloody mess and felt faint.
“Help.” She called again.
The child opened its eyes and smiled before dying
in the arms of its mother, cold and silent, after
some hours.

Six hours later the child was turning a dark

brown when an amazed prison officer opened the
door to her cell. The woman gasped and slammed
the door again unsure if she had really seen a
dead baby in the girl’s arms. The spy-hole opened
before a gasp echoed out and the sound of feet
rushed away from Kelly’s cell.

The female prison officer stumbled to the room

where her colleague had been collecting their
things. She was getting ready for the journey to
the prison when she was told what had happened.

“Take the baby from her. Then get that bitch and
sling her on the bus.” The officer shouted.
“Shouldn’t she go to hospital?”

“It’s a bit late for that.” She replied in her

thick Scottish brogue. “Put the baby in a bag and
give it to me; I’ll get rid of it. The last thing
we need is some bleeding heart liberal saying we
didn’t provide the right level of care.”

“It’s true though…” the prison officer replied

stamping a cigarette out on the floor.
“Isn’t it?”

“Look love…” her colleague said sternly. “You

know it, I know it but this goes no further.

You’re new to this game, eh, so let me educate

you a little. The world has got enough slags
already. One more won’t be missed. Mum’s the
word.”

She smiled and pulled a plastic shopping bag from

a drawer in the desk she was sitting at before
placing her uniform, peeked cap on and grimaced.
A short while later Kelly was led from the cell
with her parcel hidden once again. In shock and
with a bloodstain on the back of her skirt, she
was placed in a small cubicle on the bus and
driven away.

Kelly was beginning her sentence within the

confines of a prison hospital wing. The baby was
never seen or mentioned again. In time the story
got out, but not that day, eventually she was
recompensed but by then the damage was done.

So, who’s the victim?

It was just another story in a world of drugs

prohibition.

The End

David William Kirby: Nov 88

All rights Reserved

The Dogbreaths Publishing.

Appendix 1

Guide to the language used in this manuscript.

Some of the words spoken by the characters in this manuscript are East London
Slang. This should not be confused with Cockney Rhyming Slang although there may
be some cross-over. ELS derive from a mixture of old names for (pre-decimal)
currency, Yiddish and various other existing language.
Beast Sex Offender

Bird term of imprisonment/woman

Chawed (pronounced chored) Arrested (by police)

Damage Price

Drum House/dwelling

Druming Burglary

Fence Someone who buys stolen goods

Filth The police

Grass A police informer

Gaff Home

Gouch (out) Nod off/drift into drug-induced sleep

Jacks A five pound note £5.00

Knocked Refused to pay for something

Lay-down A short spell in prison

Monkey Five hundred pounds £500.00

Nifty Fifty pounds £50.00

Nob An idiot

Nonce Any sex offender

Nipper A young child

Numpty A fool

On-top A difficult situation

Pearshaped Something going wrong

Pony Duff goods. Fakes

Poxie Crap/shit

Quid £1.00 (one pound) British Sterling

Result A good situation

Ripped-off Cheated

Rozzer A police officer

Scally A thief

Screw 1) Rob a house. 11)A Prison Officer 111) have sex

Score 1) Twenty Pounds £20.00 11) Purchase drugs

Scored Having purchased drugs

Scratch Money

Scrote Someone not to be trusted. A thief perhaps

Shop Inform on someone

Shitfaced Become intoxicated

Skanked Ripped off/cheated

Shag Sexual intercourse

Snap-snap Hurry up

Stones Diamonds or any gemstones

Stretch six months in prison

Sweaty Sock (or sweaty) Someone from Scotland

Taiters Freezing cold

Ton £100 (one hundred pounds)

Wedge A lot of money

Whack A share of money

Wrong”un Someone not to be trusted (a grass perhaps)

(This manuscript remains the property of DAVID WILLIAM KIRBY

dwkthedogbreaths@gmail.com and is protected by international
copyright laws. No sale, copy, performance,edit, representation or
re-edition of this material can be made without the express prior
consent of the author)