‘I don’t have any money,’ says Heather. ‘I don’t have cigarettes. I don’t think I have anything you need.’
Connie sits on the lower bunk of Heather’s bed. ‘You want money? You want cigarettes? I can do that.’
Heather is weighing her up, and Connie knows that is no easy job. On first meeting, people always find Connie affable. Fun even. But Heather has been in prison long enough to smell the danger on her too. So she is wary, and Connie doesn’t blame her one bit. Connie would be terrified in Heather’s shoes.
‘I don’t need anything, thank you. A bit of peace and quiet.’
‘I’ll be gone soon enough. What were you writing?’ asks Connie, tilting her head towards the desk.
‘Nothing,’ says Heather.
‘I’m Connie Johnson,’ says Connie. She gets up, walks behind Heather and starts to knead her shoulders. ‘Good friend, terrible enemy, but you’re in luck, because you and I are going to be friends. You feel very tense, by the way.’
‘Please, I don’t have anything.’ If Heather could make herself any smaller in her chair, she would disappear altogether.
Connie stops the massage, and walks back to the centre of the cell. ‘Everyone has something, Heather. You’re in for fraud, then? Ten years. Must have been a hell of a fraud.’
‘It was,’ says Heather.
‘They make you pay back the money too?’ asks Connie. ‘Knocked a couple of years off? Proceeds of Crime Act?’
‘They asked me to,’ said Heather. ‘But there weren’t any proceeds.’
‘Sure,’ says Connie, laughing. ‘But you’ll be out soon?’
Heather nods.
‘You must be happy about that?’
‘I’m happy when they lock my door at night,’ says Heather.
Connie looks around Heather’s cell. No family photos on the wall. A few prison library books on her desk. One is called Small Pleasures, and it has oranges on the cover. Connie thinks about the flat-screen TV in her own cell. And the mini-bar.
‘What a ball of fun you are,’ Connie says. ‘I can cheer you up. What do you like? Chocolate? Men? Booze? I can get you anything.’
‘Connie, I want to be left alone,’ says Heather. ‘Can you get me that?’
‘I can definitely get you that. I’ll be out of your hair in a heartbeat. I just need you to answer a question.’
‘Where did I hide the money?’
‘No, not where did you hide the money,’ says Connie. ‘Although where did you?’
‘There is no money,’ says Heather. ‘That’s why I’m still here.’
Connie nods. ‘You stick to your story, girl, good for you. No, I need to ask you the other question, Heather.’
Heather looks down at the floor. ‘No.’
‘Chin up, come on, we’re a team. Look at me.’
Heather looks up at Connie.
‘Heather, did you kill Bethany Waites?’
‘I can’t talk to you about that.’
‘Does that mean you did or you didn’t?’
‘It means I can’t talk to you about that. And shame on you for asking.’
Connie looks at Heather Garbutt, eyes back down to the floor, shoulders slumped. Why can’t she charm this woman? It absolutely infuriates Connie when people are resistant to her charms. She simply won’t allow it. Connie starts crying, and that gets Heather looking up all right.