The Betrayer. Kimberley Chambers

stuffing her face to see what had started the fight, but she’d seen Kevin beat up Susan.

      As Kevin dragged Susan out of sight, Caz knew she had to do more to help her. Remembering that Susan had earlier given her her phone number, Caz searched through her purse and ran back into the shop.

      ‘Give me the phone, quick. He’s abducted her and I need to ring her mum.’

      Aware of the sirens getting louder, Kevin helped Susan through the back gardens and into a different street. He was fully aware of what led where, as he’d often been involved in bouts of burglary in this neck of the woods. He tried the handle of someone’s shed and was relieved to find it open.

      ‘Get in there, Suze, go on, lie down. We’re safe here.’

      As Kevin handed her a fag, he lit the match and was appalled by what he had done to her face. She was caked in blood and looked like she’d gone ten rounds with Henry Cooper. Susan looked worse than she actually felt and was more bothered about Kevin’s infidelity than her injuries.

      ‘Why, Kev? Why did yer cheat on me? Surely the sex ain’t as good with her as it is with me? How long yer been seeing her?’

      As Kevin held her close, he began to laugh. ‘You stupid girl, Suze. I haven’t cheated on yer. Joanne, the girl you glassed, is my fuckin’ cousin.’

      Susan felt nothing but relief as she clung to him. ‘I’m so sorry, Kev. Please don’t finish with me. I’ll never tell anyone that it was you that beat me up. I love you, Kev, I really do. You won’t leave me, will yer?’

      As Kevin put his tongue in her mouth, all he could taste was her blood. Pulling away, he smiled at her. ‘I’m not sure if we’re meant to be after this, Suze. I’m gonna need time to think about it, girl.’

      Desperate for him to love her again, Susan unzipped his trousers, unleashed his cock, and took him gently into her bruised mouth.

       TEN

      TOMMY HUTTON LAY sprawled across his bunk with a big smile plastered across his face. Tonight was his last night being detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure. From tomorrow he was a free man, his debt to society well and truly paid up.

      Unable to sleep, Tommy thought over his ten years inside. When he’d first arrived at Feltham, he was no more than a tearful, frightened kid. Meeting Freddie had been the turning point. Wise beyond his years, his pal had filled his head with knowledge and had taught him how to fulfil his potential. From the day he’d done over Leroy Wright in the shower room, he’d never looked back. He and Freddie had run Feltham from that moment onwards. Neither of them were bullies, but they were the leaders. They never picked on the run-of-the-mill lads and they even looked out for some of the simpletons, or shy kids who couldn’t come to terms with the system. The only lads they gave it to were the ones who deserved it. The freaks, the nonces and the pure fucking evil were the ones that always got their comeuppance. Then there were the new boys, the chancers, the ones that arrived thinking they were the next Godfather. Within days they’d be given a good hiding. Most of them got the message there and then, but there were an odd few who tried to get their revenge. They were the ones that suffered the worst, their lives made a misery for the rest of their stay.

      Both Tommy and Freddie had a good relationship with the screws. They treated them with a certain amount of respect and received a cushy life and plenty of blind eyes in return. The screws liked a quiet life and Tommy and Freddie helped them keep the other lads in order. The situation suited everybody, especially Finchy, who developed a soft spot for the two tough east London boys. On many occasions he spoke up for them to the guv’nor and got them out of sticky situations. He was a good bloke, old Finchy, and Tommy would always hold fond memories of him.

      At the time, leaving Feltham had seemed awful. As soon as Tommy turned seventeen, he’d been moved to a proper prison. Saying goodbye to Finchy and the lads had been extremely emotional. He’d made many friends there and they even had a little leaving party for him. Saying goodbye to Freddie was probably the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He’d been desperate not to make a tit of himself by crying, but he hadn’t been able to stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. As luck would have it, Freddie had got all emotional as well.

      Tommy had begged the guv’nor at the borstal to have a word with the authorities for him. He was desperate to go to a London prison, so he could see more of his family and friends.

      He’d been told at one point that he was going to Kent somewhere and he’d been well poxed off about that. His family were still piss poor and, unless he was in London, he’d rarely get a visit.

      Freddie had been on Finchy’s case to have a word with the guv’nors about getting him into Pentonville. Freddie had an uncle in there, who was aware of Tommy, and would look out for him. Whether it was strings being pulled or just pure bloody luck, that was where he ended up. The journey there was horrendous. It was a really hot day and the van he was shoved into was like a Swedish sauna. The traffic was awful and by the time he reached his destination, Tommy was sweating like a pig.

      He was filled with apprehension as he entered his new home. The screws were horrible to him and spoke to him like a piece of shit. He was strip-searched, given his orders and taken to his cell. Walking through the prison, Tommy kept his head down. He’d already come face to face with a couple of the inmates and they were fucking frightening. Great big skinhead types with faces full of hatred and scars. Feltham was full of little boys, the Ville was a different ball game.

      Tommy was given a single cell and spent his first night wide awake. By morning he’d made his decision. If anyone gave him any grief, he was gonna clump ’em. Freddie had always told him that this was the best way to deal with matters and he would take his friend’s advice. Big, small, black or white – anyone got in his way, he’d give ’em a dig.

      Within two days of his arrival, Tommy had grief. He’d seen some fat, tattooed prick giving him daggers at breakfast. Ignoring him, he finished his grub and walked away. At dinner the fat prick went one better. As Tommy walked past him with his food, the geezer stuck out a leg. With a tray in his hand, Tommy had no way of keeping his balance, and went flying. As laughter rang around the hall, Tommy was determined not to look a mug. He stood up, straightened his shoulders, and brushed himself down. Grabbing the fat prick’s tray, he smashed it over his head with such force that it took his breath away. Tommy smiled when he noticed his tormentor was not only bleeding, but also had shepherd’s pie dripping off his big fat head.

      ‘Leave me alone, you fat cunt,’ he said, as he walked away to cheers.

      The tattooed one was about to respond, but was stopped in his tracks by the screws’ intervention.

      ‘You’re dead, kid,’ he screamed, as he was escorted from the room.

      ‘Yeah, right,’ Tommy replied.

      Tommy was punished for his part in the fracas and spent a week in solitary. He didn’t care – he was just glad that he’d stood his ground. In a one-to-one fight the geezer would have slaughtered him. The fat cunt was probably treble his weight and could have knocked him out with one punch. Being on his own gave Tommy plenty of time to think. He was a tall lad and, while in Feltham, had shot up to six foot. What he needed now was to fill out a bit, as he was far too skinny to be taken seriously. In Feltham they’d had plenty of exercise, but there were no facilities to lift weights and build up muscle. He knew there was a gym in the Ville and his plan was to use it as much as possible to change his physique.

      Within hours of returning to his own wing, Tommy had received many pats on the back. A lot of the older lags had seen a younger version of themselves in him, and Tommy soon learned that the geezer whose head he’d smashed in was a very unpopular inmate called Mark Abrahams, who was nearing the end of a long-term sentence for supplying heroin.

      At dinner that evening, Abrahams appeared with a scar across his bonce. Apparently, he’d had a dozen stitches, which had been removed earlier that day. He sat over the other side of the room and not once did he glance across. Tommy was surprised by this.