Part 54
"….Take them down …" the final words of John Deed and the trial sealed Snowball's and Ritchie's fate.
A court usher secured Snowball , who still did not believe what she was hearing and led her through narrow corridors to the more functional tradesman's back entrance to the Old Bailey. Two Prison Service trucks waited at the back car park with plenty of security in view of Snowball's past record of escapes. Ritchie was likewise precariously wheeled
out through the back door of the main court and along narrow corridors to the back entrance…….
"Miss Barker," Snowball asked Di Barker in her best sincere gritty "Wigan voice. "can I say a quick word to me boyfriend before we part."
"All right, Snowball, but no messing around." Di Barker replied, moved by Snowball's last performance.
"I promise, Miss.You have my word." Snowball replied , looking directly at Di and then she was led over to where Ritchie was waiting.
"Richie ,I love you goodbye," Snowball called out desperately just before he was being wheeled towards a more customised version of the all too familiar white Prison van. Then she was frogmarched into her own separate van. This was the parting of the ways for the two of them with no escape.
"Make sure that the bloody press don't get round the back. We're not having any paparazzi sneaking any shots of the famous actress," the police Inspector sarcastically directed the small force there to ensure security.
"Right, step on it." The police constable directed the first vehicle to zoom out of the security gates and was off down the busy London Streets closely followed by the second one.
Yvonne emerged blinking into the daylight, leading the way, Lauren's arm linked in hers, both flanked by Roisin ,Cassie and Babs. Karen hung back directly behind Yvonne. Miss Betts was a minor official of the Prison Service and it had been dinned in her experience, not to talk directly to the press, not even now when her own fate as Karen was so personally and so deeply involved.
"Twenty two years for Miss Pilkinton and ten years for Mr Atkins, is it? How do you feel about the length of the sentences. Mr Atkins was your son wasn't he." the first question was fired by the man in the smart blue suit who had pushed to the front of the pack.
"Are you talking as if he is dead? He is my son." Yvonne exclaimed loudly. "But he got into bad company, the woman who was in the same nick that I was at. She nearly killed some of the best mates in my life who've stuck to me like glue, who are as good as family to me. She actually killed one woman whose partner is still grieving over her. She didn't give a shit. And my son who went along with her schemes was as guilty as sin."Yvonne finished on a loud note, her voice carrying backwards to George Channing who smiled slightly at her very own words being echoed. "Yes he is my son but he got an absolutely fair trial."
"I'm his sister." Lauren Atkins hard gaze unsettled the journalist."And he got everything that was coming to him."
"We were all inside with Yvonne Atkins and I can say as God is my witness that Mrs Atkins is telling the absolute truth." Babs, dressed in her best suit and speaking in her impeccable Middle England accent further confused the journalist's preconceptions.
"What," a hardboiled reporter from the Daily Mail sneered. "The wife of a gangland boss tell the truth and talking about fair trials."
"To live outside the law you must be honest," Cassie's insolent blue eyes stared down the reporter. Accustomed as he was to link 'asylum seeker' and 'abuse' in his daily writings and to call for 'firm government', he was no more likely than the likes of Neil Houghton or the Lord Chancellor to think in ways that cut sideways across the narrow grooves of the freedom he was accustomed to travel the length of.
"I don't understand a word you're saying, miss." came the supercilious reply.
"I didn't expect you to but then again, I know Yvonne well. You print what you like and I'm supposed to read it in the paper and it's supposed to tell me what this trial's been about better than I can say supposedly. Even though we've been there, lived it all. So suppose we talk and you listen." Cassie replied with a straight face and with all the irony in the world. This was a turnabout for Cassie who normally didn't do subtlety and, for once in her life, never uttered the word 'nobbing' either.
"Mr Reporter, since you know so much about me, Yvonne Atkins, then you had better know that the judge who ran this trial is no ordinary man." Yvonne cut in on the discussion.
It was on the tip of Cassie's tongue to say that the Judge was so outrageously good looking that she was almost tempted to go straight but at the last minute she stopped. She was aware that she was part of the group with a heavy responsibility to get it straight, for them all and those still left in Larkhall. It was an 'in joke' that these nobbing brain dead reporters would twist out of context and that would be a big mistake. At the very last moment, they all had to get it right.
"Have you a few words to say to the press on behalf of the Prison service." Karen Betts was asked by a spare reporter while the others endured the endless flash bulbs and the microphones pushed into their faces.
"I'm sorry but I can't comment as all press queries should be addressed to the Governing Governor, Neil Grayling. That's GRAYLING," Karen spelled out." I can give you the phone number of Larkhall Prison and I can promise you that he's the sort of person who is only too willing to communicate with the press." The flat level tone in Karen's voice was only betrayed by the faintest hint of a smirk on one side of her face. the man is a coward and will be shaking in his shoes at the fear that he may get it wrong with Area Management and Sir Ian and Lawrence James. Thank heavens, I'm only a Wing Governor, Karen reflected, I have all the freedom that I'll get and I won't have to sell my soul the way he has.
"Yeah, Cassie Tyler and Roisin Connor dragged that man out of the burning library and saved his life." Lauren was sharp eared enough to overhear the conversation to the back of her. Because she was not directly involved in the events described in the trial, Lauren was less emotionally drained by the intensity of the build up to the trial and sharper off the mark.
Nice one, Lauren, Yvonne thought, as she repeated her initial statement for yet another press reporter. The spontaneous words that escaped her mouth at the very beginning of the impromptu press conference were gradually refined and sharpened up as she went along.
"Did you have to do that for someone who locked you both up. I wouldn't have thought that you would waste your time saving the life of a screw." the young female press interviewer asked incredulously. There could be a good angle, she thought, if she pushed hard enough and played these Mrs Averages along. 'Porn star jailed for arson. The inside life of glamour queen Snowball Merriman.' These were the instant headlines that had formed in her mind. Too bad about the prisoners but a story about them would be as dull as ditchwater. Leave that sort of thing for the snob press as she knew what the average reader wanted to read about and she wanted to dig around for what she was convinced was the truth if she could get there. Her training in journalism gave her that effortless assurance and self confidence over the fumbling, stumbling members of the public she came across from time to time.
"The man is a human being." Roisin retorted passionately."If it ever comes to you that your own life is in danger, you won't be so quick to say who should live or who should die. Not even Snowball Merriman and Ritchie Atkins."
"That's very noble of you," came the sarcastic reply.
"Comes of being a mother." Roisin's lilting Irish tones explained with all the wisdom that it represented."When you've grown up a bit, then you will understand."
It seemed like a lifetime that the small group was huddled together in mutual defence on the wide stone steps outside the Old Bailey and their voices were becoming tired. However, the pack of press reporters had gradually thinned out and they were aware that the questions had fallen silent..
"We're heading for the pub, girls." And to Karen who was looking fidgety."And you're coming with us, Karen. You're one of us. You don't need to hold Grayling's hand while he talks to the press."
"I'd be the wrong sex for a start, I mean to hold Grayling's hand.Vicars are his type or so I hear," Karen joked nervously.
"Oh so you've heard that too,"Yvonne grinned broadly at the thought that Karen had her sources of information much like she used to.
The six women walked rapidly away from the Old Bailey whose ancient structure had so dominated their lives for such an intense part of their lives and which none of them would fully leave behind. Ten minutes later, and the vast overpowering , all enveloping structure was reduced to the size and shape that they saw on the TV screen. Then they rounded the corner and a pub sign caught their eye. This place would do for them.
Roisin took the lead and bought in a round of drinks. Lauren gave her a hand to carry the drinks, still jarred by the obvious closeness of Karen and Yvonne. There was something soothing and motherly about Roisin that Lauren liked as much as she liked Cassie as the original ' girls just wanna have fun' clubbing companion.
"You let that snotty journalist have it good and proper." Lauren told her admiringly.
"You know, Lauren." Roisin explained."I'm a mum. I hold down a good job and I saw that slip of a girl who knows nothing of life yet her words will be on the front pages telling me how I should think and feel. To be bossed around in my thoughts by her," Roisin finished on a derisive note.
"You must be getting middle aged, Roisin." Lauren teased.
"Comes of getting to know life, Lauren. Only someone like you gets a head start." Roisin's brilliant smile reassured Lauren that she wasn't included in the category of the young and ignorant. Not with those years of running the Atkins business on her own while mum was inside.
Cassie looked in concern at the sadness in Yvonne's expression where there should be joy in seeing that Snowball tart being finally nailed. It was Ritchie and, even then, she knew that Yvonne was worrying if Ritchie would be looked after properly.
"It's Ritchie isn't it, Yvonne."
"Yeah well, I lost Ritchie years ago. When he got to grow up like Charlie right under my very nose and I was too blind to see it," Yvonne replied mournfully. Even now, Ritchie was her little angel.
Cassie was really worried for Yvonne and thought that a bit of mad humour would lighten things, directed at the one person they could all equally laugh at.
"Get the James Fenner's latest must have fashion accessory guide to wear to all the best parties. A gun up your crotch." Cassie exploded in laughter to the others who, in the release of all the tension that had built up, had an attack of the giggles.
"I wonder how long it will take for that story to get back to Larkhall." Yvonne grinned wickedly."I'd love Denny to hear that one. It would make her day."
The bar had two populations present, the usual morose lunchtime punters content to nurse their drinks and a very lively slightly mad group of women who had invaded the bar bringing their own electric atmosphere with them.
"As if I would be that indiscreet." Karen smirked." Not that the new Prison Officer Selina won't talk. She hates Fenner's guts. He tried it on with her once."
"She must have brains then. Good looking, too. And there's something about her that tells me that she's not straight." Cassie smirked in her inimitable way.
"Come off it, Cassie." Roisin laughed." For all you know, she's got a boyfriend who's faithful and devoted to her. Anyway let's talk about something sensible, like……."
"……like what do you do on a freezing cold day, you're dying for a piss when there's a long queue for the toilet and you've got Mr Designer Fenner's guns stuck up you." Cassie laughed, causing Karen to collapse in helpless laughter.
Yvonne looked on protectively. She knew exactly how cheap Karen must have felt herself to be. She couldn't say what she wanted to in words but for all the girls to make Karen the centre of the protective circle of conversation did what needed to be done. As she sat listening to the chatter of the others, Yvonne shivered as had not Ritchie talked in exactly the same way that Charlie used to in times gone past. And Ritchie had grown up hating his father so much. It touched her in the visitor's room, many months ago when Ritchie said that he'd warned her that Charlie could 'charm the birds off the trees and wring their necks afterwards.' It seemed that Ritchie had really cared for her like a devoted son should. That and the bouquet of flowers. Like father, like son.
Yvonne put down her drink and stood up.
"There's something I've got to do," She said, "I'll be back in ten minutes." She walked out of the pub and began looking for an off licence. Finding one only a couple of streets away, she went in and purchased the finest bottle of Moet they had and persuaded the girl behind the counter to wrap it up for her. She wrote some brief words on the card that this very young and attractive girl had thoughtfully provided, and walked back towards the court carrying the bottle. The press had thankfully all disappeared long ago, and when Yvonne walked in through one of the front doors, all was fairly quiet. She stood for a moment, not quite sure where she should go, but catching sight of the Judge's clerk, she approached her.
"Mrs. Cooper, isn't it?" Yvonne asked. Coope smiled.
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"Would you happen to know where I could find Jo Mills?"
"Mrs. Mills is upstairs with the Judge," Said Coope, realising too late just how that might sound. Yvonne held out the wrapped bottle.
"Please could you give this to her?"
"Of course," Said Coope taking the bottle.
When Coope returned to John's chambers, he looked up with a smile.
"Is that for me?" He asked.
"No, Judge," Said Coope, putting the bottle down on the table. "It's for Mrs. Mills."
"Who's it from?" Asked Jo.
"I think it was Mrs. Atkins who asked me to give it to you." Tearing off the gold-coloured paper, Jo stared at the finest bottle of champagne she'd ever been given.
"You lucky girl," Said Jon enviously. Utterly astounded, Jo opened the card. It simply said:
"I can't celebrate my son being sent to prison, but this was a victory for you. This last fortnight hasn't been easy for any of us, but you've worked harder than anyone. I owe you one for your achievement of justice for Shaz Wiley, and for Karen.
Enjoy every drop.
Yvonne."
"….Take them down …" the final words of John Deed and the trial sealed Snowball's and Ritchie's fate.
A court usher secured Snowball , who still did not believe what she was hearing and led her through narrow corridors to the more functional tradesman's back entrance to the Old Bailey. Two Prison Service trucks waited at the back car park with plenty of security in view of Snowball's past record of escapes. Ritchie was likewise precariously wheeled
out through the back door of the main court and along narrow corridors to the back entrance…….
"Miss Barker," Snowball asked Di Barker in her best sincere gritty "Wigan voice. "can I say a quick word to me boyfriend before we part."
"All right, Snowball, but no messing around." Di Barker replied, moved by Snowball's last performance.
"I promise, Miss.You have my word." Snowball replied , looking directly at Di and then she was led over to where Ritchie was waiting.
"Richie ,I love you goodbye," Snowball called out desperately just before he was being wheeled towards a more customised version of the all too familiar white Prison van. Then she was frogmarched into her own separate van. This was the parting of the ways for the two of them with no escape.
"Make sure that the bloody press don't get round the back. We're not having any paparazzi sneaking any shots of the famous actress," the police Inspector sarcastically directed the small force there to ensure security.
"Right, step on it." The police constable directed the first vehicle to zoom out of the security gates and was off down the busy London Streets closely followed by the second one.
Yvonne emerged blinking into the daylight, leading the way, Lauren's arm linked in hers, both flanked by Roisin ,Cassie and Babs. Karen hung back directly behind Yvonne. Miss Betts was a minor official of the Prison Service and it had been dinned in her experience, not to talk directly to the press, not even now when her own fate as Karen was so personally and so deeply involved.
"Twenty two years for Miss Pilkinton and ten years for Mr Atkins, is it? How do you feel about the length of the sentences. Mr Atkins was your son wasn't he." the first question was fired by the man in the smart blue suit who had pushed to the front of the pack.
"Are you talking as if he is dead? He is my son." Yvonne exclaimed loudly. "But he got into bad company, the woman who was in the same nick that I was at. She nearly killed some of the best mates in my life who've stuck to me like glue, who are as good as family to me. She actually killed one woman whose partner is still grieving over her. She didn't give a shit. And my son who went along with her schemes was as guilty as sin."Yvonne finished on a loud note, her voice carrying backwards to George Channing who smiled slightly at her very own words being echoed. "Yes he is my son but he got an absolutely fair trial."
"I'm his sister." Lauren Atkins hard gaze unsettled the journalist."And he got everything that was coming to him."
"We were all inside with Yvonne Atkins and I can say as God is my witness that Mrs Atkins is telling the absolute truth." Babs, dressed in her best suit and speaking in her impeccable Middle England accent further confused the journalist's preconceptions.
"What," a hardboiled reporter from the Daily Mail sneered. "The wife of a gangland boss tell the truth and talking about fair trials."
"To live outside the law you must be honest," Cassie's insolent blue eyes stared down the reporter. Accustomed as he was to link 'asylum seeker' and 'abuse' in his daily writings and to call for 'firm government', he was no more likely than the likes of Neil Houghton or the Lord Chancellor to think in ways that cut sideways across the narrow grooves of the freedom he was accustomed to travel the length of.
"I don't understand a word you're saying, miss." came the supercilious reply.
"I didn't expect you to but then again, I know Yvonne well. You print what you like and I'm supposed to read it in the paper and it's supposed to tell me what this trial's been about better than I can say supposedly. Even though we've been there, lived it all. So suppose we talk and you listen." Cassie replied with a straight face and with all the irony in the world. This was a turnabout for Cassie who normally didn't do subtlety and, for once in her life, never uttered the word 'nobbing' either.
"Mr Reporter, since you know so much about me, Yvonne Atkins, then you had better know that the judge who ran this trial is no ordinary man." Yvonne cut in on the discussion.
It was on the tip of Cassie's tongue to say that the Judge was so outrageously good looking that she was almost tempted to go straight but at the last minute she stopped. She was aware that she was part of the group with a heavy responsibility to get it straight, for them all and those still left in Larkhall. It was an 'in joke' that these nobbing brain dead reporters would twist out of context and that would be a big mistake. At the very last moment, they all had to get it right.
"Have you a few words to say to the press on behalf of the Prison service." Karen Betts was asked by a spare reporter while the others endured the endless flash bulbs and the microphones pushed into their faces.
"I'm sorry but I can't comment as all press queries should be addressed to the Governing Governor, Neil Grayling. That's GRAYLING," Karen spelled out." I can give you the phone number of Larkhall Prison and I can promise you that he's the sort of person who is only too willing to communicate with the press." The flat level tone in Karen's voice was only betrayed by the faintest hint of a smirk on one side of her face. the man is a coward and will be shaking in his shoes at the fear that he may get it wrong with Area Management and Sir Ian and Lawrence James. Thank heavens, I'm only a Wing Governor, Karen reflected, I have all the freedom that I'll get and I won't have to sell my soul the way he has.
"Yeah, Cassie Tyler and Roisin Connor dragged that man out of the burning library and saved his life." Lauren was sharp eared enough to overhear the conversation to the back of her. Because she was not directly involved in the events described in the trial, Lauren was less emotionally drained by the intensity of the build up to the trial and sharper off the mark.
Nice one, Lauren, Yvonne thought, as she repeated her initial statement for yet another press reporter. The spontaneous words that escaped her mouth at the very beginning of the impromptu press conference were gradually refined and sharpened up as she went along.
"Did you have to do that for someone who locked you both up. I wouldn't have thought that you would waste your time saving the life of a screw." the young female press interviewer asked incredulously. There could be a good angle, she thought, if she pushed hard enough and played these Mrs Averages along. 'Porn star jailed for arson. The inside life of glamour queen Snowball Merriman.' These were the instant headlines that had formed in her mind. Too bad about the prisoners but a story about them would be as dull as ditchwater. Leave that sort of thing for the snob press as she knew what the average reader wanted to read about and she wanted to dig around for what she was convinced was the truth if she could get there. Her training in journalism gave her that effortless assurance and self confidence over the fumbling, stumbling members of the public she came across from time to time.
"The man is a human being." Roisin retorted passionately."If it ever comes to you that your own life is in danger, you won't be so quick to say who should live or who should die. Not even Snowball Merriman and Ritchie Atkins."
"That's very noble of you," came the sarcastic reply.
"Comes of being a mother." Roisin's lilting Irish tones explained with all the wisdom that it represented."When you've grown up a bit, then you will understand."
It seemed like a lifetime that the small group was huddled together in mutual defence on the wide stone steps outside the Old Bailey and their voices were becoming tired. However, the pack of press reporters had gradually thinned out and they were aware that the questions had fallen silent..
"We're heading for the pub, girls." And to Karen who was looking fidgety."And you're coming with us, Karen. You're one of us. You don't need to hold Grayling's hand while he talks to the press."
"I'd be the wrong sex for a start, I mean to hold Grayling's hand.Vicars are his type or so I hear," Karen joked nervously.
"Oh so you've heard that too,"Yvonne grinned broadly at the thought that Karen had her sources of information much like she used to.
The six women walked rapidly away from the Old Bailey whose ancient structure had so dominated their lives for such an intense part of their lives and which none of them would fully leave behind. Ten minutes later, and the vast overpowering , all enveloping structure was reduced to the size and shape that they saw on the TV screen. Then they rounded the corner and a pub sign caught their eye. This place would do for them.
Roisin took the lead and bought in a round of drinks. Lauren gave her a hand to carry the drinks, still jarred by the obvious closeness of Karen and Yvonne. There was something soothing and motherly about Roisin that Lauren liked as much as she liked Cassie as the original ' girls just wanna have fun' clubbing companion.
"You let that snotty journalist have it good and proper." Lauren told her admiringly.
"You know, Lauren." Roisin explained."I'm a mum. I hold down a good job and I saw that slip of a girl who knows nothing of life yet her words will be on the front pages telling me how I should think and feel. To be bossed around in my thoughts by her," Roisin finished on a derisive note.
"You must be getting middle aged, Roisin." Lauren teased.
"Comes of getting to know life, Lauren. Only someone like you gets a head start." Roisin's brilliant smile reassured Lauren that she wasn't included in the category of the young and ignorant. Not with those years of running the Atkins business on her own while mum was inside.
Cassie looked in concern at the sadness in Yvonne's expression where there should be joy in seeing that Snowball tart being finally nailed. It was Ritchie and, even then, she knew that Yvonne was worrying if Ritchie would be looked after properly.
"It's Ritchie isn't it, Yvonne."
"Yeah well, I lost Ritchie years ago. When he got to grow up like Charlie right under my very nose and I was too blind to see it," Yvonne replied mournfully. Even now, Ritchie was her little angel.
Cassie was really worried for Yvonne and thought that a bit of mad humour would lighten things, directed at the one person they could all equally laugh at.
"Get the James Fenner's latest must have fashion accessory guide to wear to all the best parties. A gun up your crotch." Cassie exploded in laughter to the others who, in the release of all the tension that had built up, had an attack of the giggles.
"I wonder how long it will take for that story to get back to Larkhall." Yvonne grinned wickedly."I'd love Denny to hear that one. It would make her day."
The bar had two populations present, the usual morose lunchtime punters content to nurse their drinks and a very lively slightly mad group of women who had invaded the bar bringing their own electric atmosphere with them.
"As if I would be that indiscreet." Karen smirked." Not that the new Prison Officer Selina won't talk. She hates Fenner's guts. He tried it on with her once."
"She must have brains then. Good looking, too. And there's something about her that tells me that she's not straight." Cassie smirked in her inimitable way.
"Come off it, Cassie." Roisin laughed." For all you know, she's got a boyfriend who's faithful and devoted to her. Anyway let's talk about something sensible, like……."
"……like what do you do on a freezing cold day, you're dying for a piss when there's a long queue for the toilet and you've got Mr Designer Fenner's guns stuck up you." Cassie laughed, causing Karen to collapse in helpless laughter.
Yvonne looked on protectively. She knew exactly how cheap Karen must have felt herself to be. She couldn't say what she wanted to in words but for all the girls to make Karen the centre of the protective circle of conversation did what needed to be done. As she sat listening to the chatter of the others, Yvonne shivered as had not Ritchie talked in exactly the same way that Charlie used to in times gone past. And Ritchie had grown up hating his father so much. It touched her in the visitor's room, many months ago when Ritchie said that he'd warned her that Charlie could 'charm the birds off the trees and wring their necks afterwards.' It seemed that Ritchie had really cared for her like a devoted son should. That and the bouquet of flowers. Like father, like son.
Yvonne put down her drink and stood up.
"There's something I've got to do," She said, "I'll be back in ten minutes." She walked out of the pub and began looking for an off licence. Finding one only a couple of streets away, she went in and purchased the finest bottle of Moet they had and persuaded the girl behind the counter to wrap it up for her. She wrote some brief words on the card that this very young and attractive girl had thoughtfully provided, and walked back towards the court carrying the bottle. The press had thankfully all disappeared long ago, and when Yvonne walked in through one of the front doors, all was fairly quiet. She stood for a moment, not quite sure where she should go, but catching sight of the Judge's clerk, she approached her.
"Mrs. Cooper, isn't it?" Yvonne asked. Coope smiled.
"Yes. What can I do for you?"
"Would you happen to know where I could find Jo Mills?"
"Mrs. Mills is upstairs with the Judge," Said Coope, realising too late just how that might sound. Yvonne held out the wrapped bottle.
"Please could you give this to her?"
"Of course," Said Coope taking the bottle.
When Coope returned to John's chambers, he looked up with a smile.
"Is that for me?" He asked.
"No, Judge," Said Coope, putting the bottle down on the table. "It's for Mrs. Mills."
"Who's it from?" Asked Jo.
"I think it was Mrs. Atkins who asked me to give it to you." Tearing off the gold-coloured paper, Jo stared at the finest bottle of champagne she'd ever been given.
"You lucky girl," Said Jon enviously. Utterly astounded, Jo opened the card. It simply said:
"I can't celebrate my son being sent to prison, but this was a victory for you. This last fortnight hasn't been easy for any of us, but you've worked harder than anyone. I owe you one for your achievement of justice for Shaz Wiley, and for Karen.
Enjoy every drop.
Yvonne."