LITMIR.BIZ

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magic words in the prison system. ‘Bobby Adams’ was an inside form of ‘abracadabra’ to warn off potential troublemakers, and nobody was brave enough to get on his wrong side.

      Freddie had never told Tommy much about his uncle. He’d said he was heavy stuff, a proper chap, and was doing a stretch for robbing a bank, but little else. Tommy was surprised when he first came face to face with Bobby Adams. He’d built a picture in his mind of what Freddie’s uncle might look like, but the geezer that stood in front of him was the total opposite of what he’d imagined.

      Tall, grey and distinguished, he stood out from every lag in the place. He had an air of authority about him and looked more like a bank manager than someone who robbed the bastard things.

      ‘Bobby Adams, son. Freddie’s written to me and told me all about you.’

      Tommy shook his thickset hand and smiled. Apart from introducing himself properly, he was at a loss as to what to say.

      Bobby noticed his hesitation and took over the conversation.

      ‘You’ll have no more trouble from Abrahams. The geezer’s a wrong ’un, he’s a smack dealer, scum of the earth. He’s been warned off you now and he’ll be dealt with in due course. Most of these cunts in here are wrong ’uns. About ten per cent are proper, the rest you wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire. I’ll show you the ropes, teach you who you can trust and who you can’t. I’ve put the word about that you’re a pal of my nephew’s. You’ll be treated with respect from now on, and you’ll have no more grief from the lags or screws.’

      Feeling more at ease, Tommy opened up, and spoke fondly about Freddie and their time at Feltham. ‘We were the daddies in there, Bobby. I swear we ran the fucking joint.’

      Bobby laughed at the kid’s stories. He was a young ’un but, like his nephew, the boy had a spark about him. Bobby could spot good potential a mile off. Streetwise kids like Freddie and Tommy could learn more by doing a bit of bird than these clever cunts who opted for university.

      Bobby stood up. ‘I better go now, kid. Oh, and by the way, well done for cracking Abrahams one. You’ve earned yourself a lot of respect with some of these lads already.’

      Bobby kept an eye on Tommy from that day onwards. At forty-eight, he was too old to spend a great deal of time in Tommy’s company, but they often had a good old chat, mainly about Freddie and life in East London. Tommy was hoping that when his pal reached prison age, he’d join him in the Ville. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be, as Freddie got taken to the Scrubs.

      Tommy was twenty-one when Bobby Adams was released. Ten years he’d originally got, and he’d served seven and a half.

      ‘Look after yourself, kid. Keep in touch with Freddie and as soon as you get out, we’ll meet up.’

      Tommy thanked him and said his goodbyes. After years of effort in the gym, his body had now changed completely. Gone was the skinny boy; in his place was a young man full of muscle, and he had no worries about being able to handle himself without Bobby’s protection.

      Freddie was released a year after his uncle and was doing quite well. He’d visited Tommy on many occasions and was full of stories about the places he frequented and the birds he’d shagged. He’d been working for his cousin, who had a building firm. Freddie loved his freedom, but despised the job.

      ‘I’m just waiting for you to get out, ain’t I? As soon as you’ve done yer bird we’ll set ourselves up in business, like we always said we would.’

      Tommy lived for Freddie’s visits. The thought of doing something with his life, alongside his best mate, was the thing that kept him going through the last part of his sentence.

      Tibbsy, Dave Taylor and Benno had popped up to see him a couple of times. He’d been really looking forward to catching up with his old pals, but after two visits from them, he’d been filled with disappointment. None of them worked or had fuck all interesting to talk about. They all still lived with their parents and spent their lives dossing about, drinking and puffing. Six months ago, they’d last come to visit and Tommy hadn’t written or sent them a visiting order since. He’d moved up a notch from them now, and he weren’t gonna waste his time mixing with tadpoles when there were big fish to swim with.

      The only other visitors he had were his family. His mum had aged a lot during his time. She’d had a hard life and the older she got, the more she seemed to be weighed down by it all. His nan was the same old Ethel and even her arthritis hadn’t stopped her going out on the thieve. Susan had never visited him once, but he wasn’t bothered, as they’d never liked one another. Out of politeness, he always asked after her, but the replies only confirmed that she was still a nasty piece of work. James was a different story. He was a good lad and very intelligent, which pleased Tommy immensely. He didn’t want his kid brother to end up with nothing, like the majority of his family. He wanted him to make something of himself and free himself from a life of poverty.

      Apart from his uncle Kenny, none of his family had made anything of themselves. The worst culprit was his father, who was a drunken, useless arsehole. In all the years Tommy had been inside, he’d only received one letter from his old man. That had been about a year ago, when he’d asked if he could come up and see him. Tommy had written back, telling him to fuck off. He could just imagine his father staggering in for a visit – that would have done the reputation he’d built for himself a fucking lot of good.

      As dawn broke, Tommy sat up. All night he’d lain awake going over his time, and now he couldn’t wait to forget it. Prison might be a learning curve, but it was also a bastard. He’d seen it sap the life out of the strongest of men, but luckily for him, he’d survived the system. He’d had help, made friends, while others hadn’t been so lucky.

      Hearing the wake-up call, Tommy smiled. In the next couple of hours he’d be a free man. Some people might have thought he had wasted ten years of his life, but not him. He’d listened, learned and remembered. As his cell door opened, Tommy took his last trip to the shower room.

      Bumping into Brainless Brian, one of the thicker but nicer screws, Tommy shook his hand.

      ‘Good luck on the outside, son.’

      Tommy smiled at him. ‘I’ll let you into a little secret, shall I, Bri? It’s not luck that’s needed to survive the outside world. All yer need is knowledge.’

      ‘What do you mean? Education and stuff?’

      Looking Brian in the eyes, Tommy winked at him. ‘You’ll have to work that one out for yourself.’

      ‘I dunno where you’re coming from. Explain what you mean, Tom.’

      Roaring with laughter, Tommy walked away.

       ELEVEN

      MAUREEN PUT THE finishing touches to the icing, stood back and proudly admired her cake. ‘Welcome Home Tommy’ stood out boldly in bright blue writing. She had spent weeks organising her son’s homecoming and couldn’t believe the day had finally arrived. Thanks to her friends and neighbours, who had all kindly chipped in, she had a fantastic selection of food. Turkey, roast ham, beef – for once they had the works.

      Ethel had been her usual light-fingered self and had turned up every day that week with a bag full of goodies. The drink was plentiful, thanks to a fifty-pound gift from uncle Kenny. Knowing Maureen would refuse the gift, he’d sent the money via Ethel. He couldn’t make the party, because he and Wendy were on holiday, but he’d sent a lovely card saying that he’d be thinking of them and hoped they had a great night. At the bottom he’d put a PS telling Tommy to ring him and he’d sort him out with a job.

      The money Maureen was grateful for, yet it was her son’s job offer that made her day. She’d often worried about how Tommy would survive after prison. Would anyone want to employ a lad of twenty-five who had spent over a third of his life in clink?

      Over the years the ill feeling surrounding Terry Smith’s murder had died down. His

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