‘Take her down.’
The words rang in her head and she felt nauseous, as if she might throw up all over the polished wooden floor. She looked into the eyes of the sergeant who was grasping her arm but he stared right through her, as though she didn’t exist. Gina flinched as he snapped on the handcuffs, then glanced in panic across at her parents seated at the back of the court.
Her mother had her hands to her mouth and was quietly sobbing. Papa sat frozen, his face in shock. There was Luc too, half out of his seat as if he intended to leap over the barrier to reach her. She felt she’d let them all down in some way, yet she’d done nothing. She was innocent of this dreadful charge. She wanted to run to them, to cry out that she didn’t do it, but it was too late. She was being led down a flight of stairs back into the cells, into a cold, unfriendly world where her only view of the outside world would be through a cell window.
As the prison van bore her away, jolting over cobbles, Gina kept her eyes fixed on the view through the back window. She felt desperate for one last sight of her friends and loved ones gathered in the street, of the places she knew and loved, of sunlight, but all she could see was rain beating on the glass.
When the van reached Strangeways, she passed within those same tall Victorian gates through which hundreds of others had gone before her, from petty thieves to murderers, from women who sold their bodies for hard cash, to Mrs Pankhurst and her fellow suffragettes.
How many of those poor souls had been innocent, like her?
Later, what Gina remembered most about that first day was the smell. It was dreadful! Overwhelming, indescribable. Sour and acrid. Stale food and urine, vomit and fear intermingled with the paraffin and disinfectant they used to clean it all up.
And then there was the terrible indignity of it all.
She was ordered to strip, made to stand under a cold shower. Her clothes and few belongings were taken from her. A form filled in. No one spoke except to issue her with orders, to tell her to stand here, or there, to take this or sign that. No one treated her like a real human being. Everyone assumed she was guilty and deserved to be locked up in prison.
Gina felt as if she’d ceased to be human. She’d become an object to be pawed at, inspected, and shifted about from place to place. They gave her some sort of canvas garment that scratched against her pale skin. Then she was marched along the wing, through a succession of clanging doors that had to be unlocked and locked again after her, taking her deeper and deeper into hell. It was terrifying, and no concession was made for her limp.
‘Hurry along there, we haven’t got all day,’ the prison officer barked. She was a thin, weasel-faced woman with narrow eyes that turned down at each corner.
Gina did her best, feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath the hard glare of the other women prisoners who watched her go by with silent animosity, as if they resented the interruption, this reminder that there was a world outside of these cells.
Then Gina was led into her own cell, a room little bigger than three paces by four, with a tiny barred window set too high in the far wall to see out of. It was bare, bleak and empty.
‘You’ll have company tomorrow. Tonight you get the place all to yourself. Aren’t you the lucky one?’ the woman said, rattling the huge bunch of keys at her waist.
Gina thought she might never forget the sound of the heavy door closing behind her.
If she slept that night, she wasn’t aware of it. She lay, hollow-eyed, a physical ache in her heart, thoughts whirling. So many questions were buzzing through her mind. How had this all come about? Everything seemed to happen so fast. Only yesterday the police had searched her room, found a transistor radio and other goods she never knew she possessed and charged her with shop lifting and burglary. They’d accused her of breaking into Alec Hall’s Music shop and, to her utter dismay and disbelief, found money and jewellery tucked away behind the loose brick.
‘How did that get there?’ She’d gasped out loud in horror, turning to her shocked parents and swearing that she knew nothing about it, that she’d never set eyes on the thing before. But, like her, they were too stunned to protest as the police bore her away.
Constable Nuttall had locked her up in a police cell where she’d passed the most miserable night of her life on a concrete bed with nothing more than a couple of blankets to make herself comfortable. They’d given her food she couldn’t eat, a plastic mug of sweetened tea that she’d had to force down her parched throat.
Now she was locked away in prison, her case to be sent to the Quarter Sessions for trial, which might not come up for months. How would she survive that long? What would she do with herself through the endlessly long hours each day? Would the other women bully her? Would the officers physically punish her? Panic gripped her, terror turning her insides to water as she tried to imagine what might happen to her in this dreadful place.
Gina had always seen herself as physically weak but mentally strong. Yet now she curled herself into a tight ball for comfort. Never had she felt so afraid, so utterly petrified. And nobody was listening to her protests of innocence. She gave herself up to despair and sobbed quietly into her musty pillow.
The moment the family were back in the house following the committal, all struck speechless with shock, Carmina made her momentous announcement that she was indeed pregnant, that the wedding with Luc must go ahead, after all. It was several minutes before her father could focus on what she was saying. He stared at her, perplexed, a small frown puckering his brow in a face that had aged ten years in the last twenty-four hours. He turned at last to address his wife.
‘I don’t understand. Doc Mitchell said there was to be no baby. How can she be pregnant?’
They all looked at Luc who’d gone white to the gills. He shook his head, bemused. ‘I don’t believe this. I won’t believe it. Tell them the truth for God’s sake, Carmina, that you and I never did anything.
We never had sex
!’
‘Why do you keep denying it when I carry the proof?’ She patted her belly and Luc winced.
‘I’m not marrying you, Carmina, not now, not ever.’ So saying, he turned on his heels and stormed out of the house.
Carmina watched him stride away with a secret smile on her face, oblivious to his distress. He could protest as much as he liked but who would listen? It was still his word against hers, and now that she had a baby growing inside her it would be easy to prove that her story must be the true version. He’d come round to the idea of marriage once he saw it was inevitable.
She called after him, adopting a deliberately piteous tone, even manufacturing a few tears. ‘Don’t leave me, Luc. There’s no need to pretend any more. Gina isn’t here to hear you. You can do the right thing by me now.’
Now that her sister was safely out of the way.
Carlotta let out a terrible wail. Already, today, one daughter had been taken from her into the unspeakable hell of prison life for a crime she surely didn’t commit. Now another was telling her she was pregnant without the benefit of matrimony. It was all too much. She put her hands to her face and howled, sounding very like an animal in distress.
Marco quickly put his arms about his beloved wife and held her tight. Hearing this dreadful noise children came running from all directions, Lela, Marta, Allessandro, Antonia and the twins, to join their parents in a sobbing, loving heap.
Carmina had never felt more like an outsider, excluded even from the love of her own family. Yet inside beat a pulse of pure triumph. She’d achieved her object at last. Gina had been taken away and locked up where she could no longer get in the way of her plans.
Really, it had all gone far more smoothly than she could have hoped. The old witch had come up trumps and Constable Nuttall had done the rest. A few hints had been dropped, a rumour mentioned, without naming any names. Nobody but Winnie herself knew anything of Carmina’s involvement. And even she was aware only of the what Carmina had told her.
Now, having rid herself of her rival, Carmina intended to move in swiftly to claim her prize. She was quite sure that Luc still fancied her like mad. He’d get over his sulks in no time once he realised what he was gaining by marrying her: thrilling sex and a devoted slave for life.
Carmina chuckled to herself. Perhaps slave wasn’t quite the right word. Nor was sex generally a subject open for discussion in the Bertalone household, save for her mother’s lectures. Yet the time for such modesty was long past.
‘You’ll go and speak to the Fabrianis, Papa?’
Marco looked at her with dazed eyes over the heads of her siblings and managed only a brief nod. Carmina smiled, then coolly walked from the room and left them to their collective misery. She could relax now. There was nothing more to be done. Her little scheme had worked beautifully.
Luc would soon be her lawfully wedded husband and there wasn’t a thing anybody could do to prevent it.
The Fabrianis were not happy. When this baby business had first blown up they’d been willing to urge their son into doing the right thing, for the honour of the family. But time had passed and they’d seen how happy he was with Gina. The situation had changed. Now, incredibly, Gina had been arrested for shop-lifting and burglary, and the other Bertalone girl was again claiming to be pregnant with Luc’s child. They were deeply suspicious and not a little upset.
This time when Marco came to discuss the necessary wedding arrangements they were less cooperative.
The post-war period for the Italian ice cream merchants had not been an easy one. Luc’s father, like the rest of his compatriots, had overcome anti-Italian feeling and devoted all his energies to building a good business, in spite of fierce competition between rival families. He’d built a modern ice cream factory, had invested in a number of motorised vans, installed his family in a fine Georgian house on St John’s Place, and was even now negotiating a new contract to buy a Mr Softee franchise. He certainly had no wish to see all of that handed over to some cheap little floosie who was no better than she should be.
They refused to push their son into anything he might later regret. Carmina might well have her wedding plans well advanced but the Fabrianis held back, insisting that their son be allowed time to consider the long term before committing himself.
This was not at all what Carmina had expected. She ranted and raved at her father, and to Luc. She wept and railed at her mother whom she felt should be more sympathetic, but they remained unmoved.
‘You will have to be patient,’ her father kept saying.
‘How can I be patient when I have this baby growing inside me? Do you want it to be illegitimate?’ she screamed, which set Carlotta off weeping all over again.
Frustratingly enough, putting Gina in jail had been relatively easy in comparison with capturing Luc. He was bedevilled by guilt, of course, so it was going to take every ounce of her seductive powers to win him round.
Chapter Thirty-Four
It was a hot, sultry day in August and the queue at the ice cream cart was keeping Carmina busy. Amy bought herself a strawberry ice cream cornet and exchanged a few pleasantries, offering heartfelt condolences over Gina’s incarceration. It was hard to believe that a girl so quiet and gentle could ever get involved in shop-lifting, let alone break into a shop. She said as much to Carmina who wasn’t very forthcoming, but felt that she’d at least done her best to express sympathy.
No doubt her friend Patsy would be relieved at having the puzzle of the shop-lifting solved, but Amy couldn’t imagine that she’d be happy with the outcome. She was very fond of Gina.
Amy thoughtfully ate her ice cream as she browsed around the stalls. She intended to take Danny for a walk along by the river later where she might set his pram rug on the bit of grass by the lock and let him kick his legs in the sun.
She was just trying to decide whether to have cold chicken or a pork pie with the salad she meant to prepare for Chris’s tea when she spotted Jeff Stockton.
He hurried straight over to ask how she was, even remembered to admire the baby. ‘We’ve missed you at the CND meetings, Amy. When are you intending to come back?’
Amy pulled a wry face. ‘I can’t see me managing it any time soon, I’m afraid. Babies take up a great deal of time, and I’ve got myself some part-time work, as they are also very expensive.’
Jeff grinned. ‘You’re looking well on it.’
‘You must be joking, with bags as big as suitcases under my eyes? I keep trying to convince my mother-in-law that all is well, and then trip up over my own lies and let slip we’ve had yet another bad night with him. If he’s slept for more than an hour in the last week or two, I haven’t noticed.’
‘I bet you’re a wonderful mum. To be honest, I was hoping to run across you.’
Amy laughed. ‘Let me guess. You want some envelopes addressing.’
Jeff looked sheepish. ‘Could you fit that in, do you think, between the nappy washing and the feeds?’
He was holding out a large package and, sighing, Amy took it from him with a small smile. ‘How can I refuse? But it’s not work at home I really need right now, if you can understand. That’s why I’m doing a few hours each week for Patsy, and for Lizzie Pringle. I’m feeling desperate to get out of the house occasionally.’