One hundred and fourteen. Callum

I lay on the bunk bed in my prison cell, reading the newspaper. I was still in the newspapers but now that my trial was over I was no longer front-page news. I’d been relegated to the third or fourth pages. And they were no more accurate than the front page. I was only reading it to pass the time. After all, I had nothing better to do. One article did catch my attention though.

SUSPECTED ‘MOLE’ WITHIN THE LIBERATION MILITIA Sources from within the Liberation Militia stated that the whole movement is in turmoil over a suspected mole who, it is believed, is actually working for the government. The mole is rumoured to be someone high up in the party echelons. Our sources have revealed that all LM activity has been suspended until the mole is found.
The editor says . . . See page 13 ‘Well done, Jude,’ I thought. That’s if it was Jude. If he wasn’t dead yet.

There was no way to get to the General so a few rumours in the right places, a couple of discreet interviews, and the General would become aware of our suspicions. I could only hope that the General would catch Andrew Dorn before he had a chance to cover his tracks or disappear. I scrunched up the newspaper and dropped it in the bin beside my narrow bed. What was the point of reading the news? No point at all. My thoughts turned to my sister, Lynette. Funny, but I thought of her more and more often these days. She’d always been there for me. She made our home bearable. Each time I thought I couldn’t take it any more, she’d smile or put her hand over mine and I’d calm down inside. When she’d died, part of me had despised her for being a coward. Part of me had hated her for leaving me. It’d all been about me. Now I thought about all the things Lynny had been through. I’d allowed all the things that’d happened to me to rob me of my humanity. Do unto others before they did unto you, that’d been my philosophy. That’s how I’d coped with the world. Lynny’s solution was better. Just fade out, until you were ready to fade back in. Only she hadn’t been ready. Maybe that’s why she’d died. She’d been pulled out of her unreal world too soon.

‘Cal, you have a visitor,’ Jack told me.

‘A visitor?’

Jack nodded, his expression sombre. Jack was a Cross prison guard but in the short length of time I’d been at Hewmett Prison, we’d become friends. I’d even say good friends. Something I’m sure was against the rules. But if Jack didn’t mind, why should I? I looked at him now. Judging from his expression, this visitor was obviously someone I wouldn’t particularly welcome. I had no idea who it could be. I hadn’t been allowed any visitors at all since I’d been brought to Hewmett Prison, so I was curious – to say the least.

‘Man or woman?’ I asked.

‘Man.’

‘And I take it I have to see him?’

Jack nodded again.

‘OK,’ I said, picking up my T-shirt. ‘I’ll just put on . . .’

‘Don’t bother. You’re not going to the visitors’ hall. He’s coming to see you.’

‘Here?’

‘Yep!’

I put my T-shirt back on anyway. The prison cells were like ovens during the day and although we were meant to keep our clothes on, most of the guards turned a blind eye if we took off our shirts. I’d taken mine off when it’d started to stick to my sweaty body like clingfilm. Heels clicked along the corridor. A man’s heavy, determined footfall. And angry too by the sound of it. I stood up and waited. Then the man appeared before my cell bars. My mouth fell open. Kamal Hadley. He was the very last person I’d been expecting.

He entered my cell. Jack stood outside. Kamal wore a dark charcoal-grey suit and a royal-blue shirt with matching tie. His black shoes were so highly polished I could see the light strip above reflected in them.

‘You can leave us now,’ Kamal ordered, his eyes never leaving my face.

‘But . . .’ Jack began.

Kamal turned to him with a look that brooked no disagreement. Jack set off down the corridor. I considered knocking out Kamal and taking off down the corridor. But how far would I get? I considered knocking out Kamal just for the hell of it. It was definitely tempting.

‘I’m sure you can guess why I’m here,’ said Kamal.

I couldn’t actually, so I kept my mouth shut.

‘I’m here to offer you a deal,’ Kamal went on.

‘What kind of deal?’

‘If you do as I say, I’ll make sure you don’t hang. You’ll be sentenced to life imprisonment and I’ll make sure you serve no more than eight to ten years. You’ll come out of prison still a young man with your whole life ahead of you.’

I studied Kamal as he spoke. He hated being here, he despised having to ask me for anything and he was having trouble hiding just how much he loathed it. It made me smile inside. I had something he wanted very, very badly. But I had no idea what.

‘And what exactly do I have to do for this . . . largesse?’

‘I want you to state publicly that you kidnapped and . . . raped my daughter. I want you to freely admit to the crimes you’re charged with. No more denials.’

‘Why?’

At first I thought Kamal wasn’t going to answer. I waited. I had all the time in the world. I wasn’t going anywhere.

‘My daughter won’t be able to put this whole business behind her and get on with her life if you don’t,’ he said at last. ‘She feels she owes you something because you saved her life in the woods. If she knew you weren’t going to die, then she’d be only too willing to get rid of your child. A child she never wanted. A child she still doesn’t.’

Every word he spoke was well rehearsed and deliberately wielded to cause the maximum amount of pain. And it worked too. I half-sat, half-collapsed down onto my bed, looking up at him. My guts were being shredded and he knew it.

‘And she told you this, did she?’

‘Of course.’

I didn’t believe him. I almost didn’t believe him. He was lying. But suppose he wasn’t?

My life or my child’s?

Was that really the only reason Sephy was still carrying it? Because of misplaced guilt over me? I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t know what to believe.

My life. Or my child’s?

‘Is it just the thought of Sephy and I having a child together that you can’t stand, or is it all mixed-race children in general?’ I asked.

‘We’re not here to discuss my feelings.’ Kamal waved aside my words like he was swotting flies. ‘What’s your answer?’

My life? Or my baby’s?

Oh Sephy, what should I do? What would you do?

‘I need to think about it.’

‘I want your answer here and now,’ Kamal demanded.

I stood up slowly.

‘Well?’ he prompted, impatiently.

Time to choose. A choice to live with or die with. I looked Kamal Hadley straight in the eye – and told him my decision. I knew it would damn me to hell, but I knew it was the right one.

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 570