Killing with Confetti

10

This would be a first for Caroline. She’d never visited her father in prison. The last place she’d seen him was her lodgings in Clifton and that was before she’d started university, in one of the intervals between his stretches. Her main memory of that meeting was that he’d not wanted her to get close. She’d been prepared for a hug and all she got was a rueful smile and a nod of the head. Clever with words, he’d turned every attempt to say anything personal into some sort of joke. Not a word about his prison experiences or the shameful life he was leading. He was as well guarded outside prison as in. Yet she’d sensed genuine emotion behind the forced humour. After his departure, she’d found an envelope he’d propped on a shelf in the bathroom behind her electric toothbrush. It had contained five hundred pounds in fifty-pound notes wrapped around three small photos of herself as a child with her mother on some seaside holiday. Also a postcard-sized studio picture in black and white of an austere grey-haired woman in a blouse fastened at the neck with a cameo brooch. He’d written My Mother, aged 70 on the back. She’d convinced herself that he wasn’t simply passing on unwanted clutter. Family mattered to him. These were items he’d kept for years and he wanted her to have them. She’d looked for a note explaining as much, but there wasn’t one.

She’d needed to write to the Prisoner Location Service in Birmingham to learn where he was currently doing time. He had the option by right to withhold the information, but he hadn’t, and that was a positive sign. It turned out that he was being held in Horfield, a Category B prison in Bristol for serious offenders who had escaped from other closed prisons or been involved in threats to life, arson, robbery, violence and drugs. She’d checked on the internet and learned that Horfield was notorious for overcrowding, drug use and suicides. In the league table of British prisons it was rated 116th out of 117. The only consolation for Caroline was that Bristol was a mere eleven-minute ride on the train from Bath.

The next step had been writing to the prison to request a visit. She’d had to submit details of herself and explain that she was Joe Irving’s daughter. She was informed it would be up to him whether he wanted to add her to his visitor list. Visits were by appointment and the prisoners made the booking. They were allowed two one-hour visits every four weeks.

She didn’t get her hopes up. If, as she’d been led to believe, he was still running a crime empire from inside, she’d be lucky to get a look-in. He’d surely want to maximise the use of visits to issue orders to his deputies.

There was a delay of almost three weeks before she heard back and she was convinced she’d been turned down. The letter arrived and she ripped it open, ready to swear.

She could visit between 9:30 and 11 A.M. on 19 February.

Her birthday.

Had he realised? She was hoping so.

But it would still be a frightening visit. She and Ben had talked for hours about the difficulty of getting married without cutting themselves off from their families. The secret marriage idea was tempting, but neither wanted to pay the price of deeply wounding their parents. In the end they’d worked out a compromise. They would make it known in advance to their families that they were going to tie the knot, but in a low-key ceremony without all the hoo-ha of a traditional wedding. They’d explain their reasoning, the predicament of a major criminal’s daughter getting married to the son of a top police officer. ‘Can you sell that to your dad?’ Ben had asked. ‘After all, he’s well used to doing stuff without the whole world knowing. He ought to understand, and he’ll appreciate being told.’

Caroline had said she hoped so. She could see that Ben would have at least as difficult a task with his own parents. The Braces had warmed to Caroline when they’d met, but her father’s identity would come as a bombshell. Ben had said he would confide in his mother first. If he could get her on his side, she might help to win over his father. The Deputy Chief Constable would throw a fit when told, but he’d not want the story breaking in the media, so when he understood that they were determined to tie the knot — and here his wife could convince him — he would come to realise that a small, discreet wedding would be the way forward.

The best they could devise.

When the train pulled in to Temple Meads, heavy rain had blown in from the Bristol Channel and the sound on the glass roof was like a North Korean marchpast for the Supreme Leader. A taxi was the only option and Caroline had to queue for one. The driver rolled his eyes when she said where she wanted to go, probably because he reckoned anyone visiting the prison wouldn’t tip well. Mercifully he wasn’t the sort who asked questions. He spent the journey giving a commentary on the failings of other drivers. On a good day, he told her, the trip would have taken under ten minutes, but with so many idiots on the road it would take three times that, and he was right about the timing. She still had twenty-five minutes in hand before the official start of visiting. She’d been advised to get there early to go through the security. She didn’t want Daddy waiting while other inmates were seeing their visitors.

Her first sight of her father’s current place of confinement was the twenty-foot-high redbrick wall incongruously sited among residential terraced streets. The taxi drew up in Cambridge Road near the entrance and she had a difficult conversation with the driver about arranging to be collected. She didn’t want to stand in the rain when she came out, but equally he wasn’t willing to sit waiting outside a prison. In the end he gave her a card with his phone number.

She approached the entrance, made herself known to the man in uniform, showed the visiting order she’d been sent, and was directed to the visitors’ centre, a separate building in a corner of the staff car park.

Much to her surprise she walked into a room with a welcoming aroma of coffee and hot paninis. People were having snacks and chatting like old friends. Small children were dodging about and a baby in a pram was being admired.

‘Your first time, love?’ a woman asked. ‘Get yourself a hot drink and then you want to pick one of them lockers and put your bag inside and empty your pockets as well. They won’t let you take nothing in with you.’

She did as suggested.

‘You’ll soon get the hang of it,’ the woman said. ‘Boyfriend, is it?’

She didn’t get a chance to answer because the woman went on, ‘Mine’s in for the long haul. Drove into a copper and broke his leg, silly arse. Wanton and furious driving, failure to stop when required to do so, assaulting a police officer in the execution of his duty and on top of that they found six hundred pounds’ worth of stolen jewellery on the seat beside him. He’s lucky I still bother to visit him.’

A prison officer looked in presently, ready to escort them into the main building. He asked if anyone hadn’t been photographed and had their fingerprints taken. Caroline, the only first-timer, was asked to walk at his side. Fingerprinting was a requirement, he explained on the way across the yard, but the prints weren’t shared with the police or anyone else unless an offence was committed. She was already nervous of making some mistake that would keep her in here.

In the main security room she showed her passport and visiting order for checking and submitted to a pat-down search from a female prison officer. She had her fingers inked and pressed on paper and a mugshot was taken. She was given a wristband to wear. Then she was made to pass through a metal detector of the kind she’d seen at airports. As if all this wasn’t enough to make her feel uncomfortable she was asked to stand in a line with the other visitors while a sniffer dog on a lead was brought in and walked along the row. Her friend from the visitors’ centre was next to her and said loudly enough for everyone to hear, ‘It’s only window-dressing, ducky. Nobody with half a brain in their heads is going to stuff cocaine in their knickers and get caught, are they?’ And sure enough, the dog got a nil return.

Finally they were allowed to enter the visit hall.

Sudden panic. She hadn’t seen him in almost six years. How ghastly if she didn’t recognise her own father.

Stupid. She spotted him at once. He was behind a table at the far end, dressed in a black zip-fronted jacket, watching her with those wide-spaced grey eyes that had looked into the abyss and been unimpressed. Flecks of silver in his hair she didn’t remember from last time, and stress creases in his face. He greeted her with his lopsided grin, rarely seen by the rest of the world. ‘Long time no see, as the sardine said when the tin was opened.’

He must have rehearsed that corny joke for hours. Humour didn’t come naturally to him.

‘No sea, get it?’ he added.

She couldn’t stomach this for long. She seated herself opposite him. ‘Yes, Daddy, I get it. Excuse me for not laughing. This is a new experience for me.’

‘You don’t have to tell me.’

‘I always thought you’d rather not be visited here.’

‘You’re right about that.’

‘But you agreed this time.’

‘Has to be important, don’t it?’

‘Well, yes. I didn’t want to write a letter. They get opened, don’t they? I can’t tell you how happy I am that you agreed to see me.’

‘Don’t try, then.’

And now he winked and it dawned on her that he was more nervous than she. For all his faults, he’d always been confident and it helped him survive. ‘Well, Daddy, I expect you’ve been wondering what brought me here — and don’t say a train or I’ll shoot you.’

‘What with?’ he said.

She found herself playing his game, levelling two fingers at him.

He tilted his head as if to dodge the shot. ‘Don’t tell me they didn’t frisk you.’

‘They did. If I’m in need of a real shooter I know who to ask.’ She was giving as good as she got.

He was amused and the smile spread right across his mouth. ‘So why are you here?’

‘I want to get married.’

His eyebrows gave a fair imitation of a level-crossing barrier lifting. ‘My only daughter — married?’

‘I’m twenty-five now, just.’

‘Says who?’

‘Daddy, you know very well it’s my birthday. You picked the date for me to visit.’

‘Some birthday treat, visiting me in the slammer. Who’s the lucky man?’

‘He’s called Ben and he’s living with me in the Camden Crescent house.’

‘Moved in already, has he? Jumped the gun, then?’

‘It’s not unusual these days.’

‘So you love this Ben? Is he as smitten as you are?’

‘He suggested it. He proposed to me at the new year. I wasn’t expecting that.’

‘Hope you’re not expecting, full stop.’

‘Oh, Daddy. Please.’

‘An old-fashioned proposal? I’m impressed. What did you say?’

‘I turned him down.’

‘That’s my girl. And I know why. You want to send him here to do the thing proper, ask me for my daughter’s hand in marriage. And I’ll grill him about his prospects. Does he have prospects?’

‘He’s in IT.’

‘A computer nerd? That’s no use at all.’

‘Why?’

‘I need a tunnel engineer for a son-in-law. Or a locksmith.’

‘Can we be serious for two minutes, Daddy? I turned him down because of you and your situation.’

Joe Irving’s face darkened and she had a chilling glimpse of the hard man she knew he must be. In the blink of an eye the expression changed again and he appeared more injured than hostile. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

‘But I did,’ she said, sensing a chance to get her main message across. ‘Ben’s father is a policeman, a really high-up officer in Bath.’

After a pause for thought, the really high-up criminal said, ‘Tricky.’

‘Extremely.’

‘Does he know about me?’

‘Every policeman in the country knows about you.’

‘He can pull a few strings, get me early parole.’

‘I don’t think that’s likely.’

He changed tack and his whole face lit up. ‘When are you planning the wedding? I’ve got to be there, walk my little daughter up the aisle.’

Caroline swallowed hard. The face-to-face across the table was unrelenting. In a normal conversation you could look away without appearing shifty. Under this penetrating scrutiny she needed courage to tell him the hard truth that she didn’t want him anywhere near her wedding. ‘This is what I came to tell you. We’re thinking — allowing for everything — it would be best to keep it simple. These days you can get married almost anywhere. You apply for a licence—’

He interrupted. ‘Hang about. This isn’t what you want. It’s the greatest day of your life, being a bride, and the greatest day of mine, being her proud dad. We’ll do it in style, my chick.’

She’d known all along that he would react like this and she was still lost for words.

And he was unstoppable. ‘Did you know I’ll be out of here on probation as soon as the ninth of August? No kidding. Another 171 days and I’m a free man.’

The last thing she wanted to hear.

‘I’m ashamed to say I haven’t been there for you in the past, but this time I will be, and no messing.’

She tried desperately to get back on message. ‘I was saying it doesn’t have to be in church.’ But her father hadn’t finished his show of repentance.

‘You must let me do this. I’m old-fashioned enough to believe the bride’s father pays for the lot, so there’ll be no need for the cop to reach for his wallet. We’re not short of a few quid, sweetheart. You want the abbey, we’ll book it. The bishop, the bells, the choir, as many bridesmaids as you want, flowers, photographs, a cake as tall as I am and the biggest knees-up ever. Plus a honeymoon anywhere in the world.’

The speech she’d been dreading. She’d half feared he would come out with this and perhaps it was a good thing he’d got it out of his system. She stood firm. ‘Daddy. I appreciate the offer, believe me, but I’m happy with a simple, dignified saying of the vows without any of those frills. Ben feels the same. I didn’t know you were being released as early as August. Maybe Ben and I could have a meal with you somewhere nice to celebrate. We’ll do the same for his parents.’

Bad mistake. She shouldn’t have said that.

He looked disbelieving, alarmed, murderous and then — to her surprise — shattered. ‘You want to keep the old lag under wraps.’

She shook her head. Words wouldn’t come, but her eyes were welling up.

‘You’re ashamed,’ he said. ‘You’re passing up the offer of a white wedding because of what I am.’

‘No, it’s my choice.’

‘That’s worse. That’s below the belt.’

‘I don’t mean to hurt you. I want to make it right with you. That’s why I’m here.’

‘And I suppose your future husband is selling the same deal to the cop and his wife.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t call him that.’

‘Tell me his name, then.’

‘George Brace. He’s the Deputy Chief Constable.’

‘George Brace, eh?’

She thought there was a gleam of recognition. ‘Have you met him?’

‘I’ve met most of the local lot in the course of my chequered career. If he’s the man I think he is, he’s not a total shit.’ Almost a compliment.

Caroline said, ‘He was sweet to me when we met.’

‘Did he know whose daughter you are?’

‘Not at that time.’

‘Does he know now?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Shit.’

‘Why did you say that?’

‘Slip of the tongue.’

‘I’m not objecting to your language. I want to know why you said it.’

‘Ben has the job of telling him, right?’

She was about to say Ben’s mother but bit back the words. In a man’s world, using Mrs. Brace as the go-between wouldn’t reflect well on Ben. ‘We’re trying to get both families to see it our way, but I’m not succeeding very well with you.’

‘What do you mean? You’ve made my day.’

Oh, Christ, she thought.

His eyes shone like nail heads. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting if you’re upfront with George Brace and tell him I’m underwriting the whole shooting match he’ll be there on the day for your sake and his son’s, same as I will.’

‘It’s not a shooting match.’

‘Pardon me.’ He grinned again. ‘Slip of the tongue. A shooting match is the very thing we don’t want, right? A wedding. A family wedding.’ He leaned closer across the table and held her gaze with a look of such sincerity that her own eyes watered in response. ‘I won’t let you down on the day, love. I know how to behave, honest — which isn’t much of a guarantee, coming from me, I know.’

Now that he’d heard there was a wedding in prospect, nothing was going to keep him away. She’d underestimated the pull of family. Joe Irving was a bad, bad man, but he was still her father and able to play havoc with her emotions.

‘You know I’m right,’ he said. ‘Deep down, you want a proper wedding.’

Against all expectations, she was starting to be swayed. Her future with Ben would be so much more secure if they both knew their two families could meet on good terms from the start. But was it realistic? ‘This isn’t what I came to hear,’ she said.

‘I know, chuck. I know. But I’d hate to be such bad news that you can’t get married in a church like I did with your Ma. If she was here she’d say the same. She’d want you to enjoy the happiest day of your life.’

‘Don’t push it, Daddy.’

Shamelessly bringing Mummy into it. He was incorrigible. Yet what he said was right. Mummy would have wished for a church wedding. Go for it, dear. He wants it. He can well afford it. Take him at his word and have the wonderful wedding you and Ben deserve.

She said, ‘It isn’t only up to me.’

‘If the guy loves you as much as he should, he’ll go along with what you decide.’

‘Maybe, but his parents deserve to be told.’

‘Want me to square it with them? I can make a phone call.’

‘Daddy, no!’

‘Just kidding.’

To ease the pressure she steered the talk to other things — her job, friends, daily routine, even the neighbours and their dog. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about his life in prison or outside, so it had to be a monologue, but she’d never been short of words and he made a show of being interested.

People behind her were starting to leave. The prison officer nearest to them was looking up at the clock.

‘I’ll think about what you said,’ she told him. ‘It’s a handsome offer, and I’m touched, but it’s not what Ben and I were planning.’

‘Have you got a date in mind?’ he asked. ‘September would be good.’

‘Because you’ll be out by then?’

‘You’re as sharp as your mother was. Nice soft light in September. I’m thinking of the photographs.’

She laughed. ‘If I believed that, I’d believe anything. I must go. When we do fix the date, I’ll let you know.’

‘Not by post,’ he said raising his hand. ‘Like you said, the screws open everything.’

‘Will it matter?’

He nodded. ‘It matters. We don’t want no one else knowing our movements. We keep this under wraps.’

Amused, she thought about the impossibility of the kind of wedding he’d promised being kept under wraps. She got up from the table.

‘I’ll call you at the weekend,’ he said. ‘I want to start counting the days.’

‘No pressure, then?’ She left with the last of the visitors.

Back in Bath, she was wondering how to tell Ben her father had run rings round her and the visit had been turned on its head. Daddy’s insistence on a ‘proper wedding’ had been expressed with such passion that she’d pictured it vividly and knew he was right when he’d said that deep down this was what she wanted. Against all her expectation, it was as if a burden had been lifted. Eye to eye across the table in the prison he’d made the dream achievable.

Of course it was.

Ben would be a different challenge.

He was upstairs at the computer when she got in, so she let herself in quietly and didn’t disturb him. Strong coffee to get up courage? She chose vodka and tonic. Flopped into an armchair. Poured herself a chaser.

When he came down, he eyed the bottle of vodka and didn’t comment, but sat across the room from her on the sofa. His first words were, ‘Did it go badly?’

‘Not like I expected.’

‘That’s a bummer,’ he said when she’d finished summarising the encounter with her father.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, her lips tightening. ‘You’re talking about our wedding.’

‘Which if he gets his way will go ahead with all guns blazing, am I right?’

‘Poor choice of words, Ben.’ She didn’t tell him Daddy had called it a shooting match. ‘But I do think we should reconsider.’

In the pause that followed she could have poured herself another drink and swallowed it.

‘Okay, what’s changed?’ His voice was drained of affection and she understood why.

‘Weren’t you listening? He wants us to have a full church wedding like you had in mind when you proposed to me.’

‘Before you told me what he is.’

That hurt.

‘What do you mean — “what he is” — as if he’s a werewolf, or something? He’ll be out in August. He’ll have served his time.’

‘Paid his debt to society? Don’t make me laugh. You told me yourself he’s a career criminal. I’ve researched him on the internet. He’s like the Godfather, running all these rackets, drugs, protection and almost anything else you care to mention. Anyone who crosses his path is liable to be rubbed out by one of his gang.’

‘I didn’t choose him for a parent,’ Caroline said.

‘And I didn’t choose mine, but you can see the situation my old man will be in. Impossible.’

‘Daddy doesn’t think it’s impossible. He’s willing to bet that if we go ahead your father will be there on the day.’

‘He might, out of a sense of duty, but I can’t foist this on him. He’s the innocent party here.’

‘Are you suggesting Daddy is making trouble? That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me. He’s offered to host the wedding and pay for everything, remember.’

‘From the proceeds of crime. Makes it worse.’

‘You’re so bloody negative,’ she said. ‘You haven’t even met my father and you’re slagging him off. He’s big enough to welcome you as a son-in-law and he knows almost nothing about you.’ She hadn’t mentioned Daddy’s tongue-in-cheek offer to question Ben about his prospects.

‘It sounds like your mind is made up,’ he said. ‘You want the white wedding, regardless.’

‘Right,’ she said, deciding he might as well be told now. ‘Dead right. I’ve changed my mind and that’s what I want.’

Ben released a long, laboured breath. The issues here were stretching nerves to the limit. Seconds passed before he said, ‘I wasn’t sure how certain you were.’

‘Now you know.’

‘Too true, I do.’

‘If the whole thing is a step too far, you’d better say at once.’

‘Oh, God help us.’ He sat back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling.

A make-or-break moment.

‘All right,’ he said finally. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to sell it to my parents, but if that’s what you want, I’ll try.’

Caroline got up from the armchair, crossed the room and sat beside the man she would marry.