Chapter 38
Now we’re done
Clara
I startled when Rafe’s large, warm hand closed over mine as we sat in the waiting area of HMP Wandsworth, then gritted my teeth in frustration.
I was so bloody jumpy. He noticed me flinch and I felt his hand start to move, but I grabbed it in mine before he could lift it away.
I knew I shouldn’t be using Rafe like this, leaning on him.
I knew I was taking advantage of his guilty conscience.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said in a low voice close to my ear. “We can leave right now.”
I took in a shuddering breath, trying to calm my racing heart.
The prison was exactly as oppressive as I’d imagined it would be: high brick walls, metal detectors, sullen-faced guards and the distinct smell of industrial cleaner failing to mask the underlying scent of hundreds of men living in close quarters.
When we’d arrived, Rafe had moved through the security process with the kind of confidence only aristocrats possessed, as if submitting to having his pockets emptied and his body scanned was a choice he was graciously allowing rather than a requirement.
Even here, in a place specifically designed to restrain and control, Rafe Sterling somehow managed to look like he owned the building.
The same could not be said for me. My hands had trembled so badly during the biometric verification that the officer had been forced to scan my fingerprints three times.
The whole experience was almost too much – the clanging of heavy doors, the echo of voices in cavernous spaces, the watchful eyes of the guards. It felt too oppressive.
“I’m fine,” I whispered back to Rafe, my eyes fixed on the institutional green wall opposite us.
Rafe’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking at the side. “I’m getting really fucking tired of you telling me you’re fine when you’re not.”
I bit my lips between my teeth to stop my instinctive apology. Rafe sighed.
“Sorry,” he muttered and I blinked at him in shock. “I’m being a pillock.”
Then, despite the intimidating environment, despite my rampant nerves, I let out a small snort of laughter.
Rafe’s head whipped round to stare down at me in surprise and then his face lit with a pleased smile as he squeezed my hand.
He opened his mouth to speak but a buzzer sounded, and I flinched again.
The overhead speakers crackled to life, “Visiting session starting in ten minutes. All visitors to the main hall.”
“Last chance to change your mind,” Rafe said, but he was already standing, helping me to my feet with a gentle tug on my hand.
“You’ll be there the whole time?” I asked, hating the desperate edge to my voice.
Rafe’s expression softened as he looked down at me. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, darling. The second you’ve had enough, we’re gone.”
I nodded, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
We followed the other visitors through a series of security doors into a large room filled with small tables, each with a chair on either side.
Guards stood at regular intervals along the walls, arms crossed, expressions blank.
Prisoners in identical grey tracksuits were being led in from another entrance, their eyes scanning the room for their visitors.
I spotted Ruben immediately. At six foot three with broad shoulders and our father’s intimidating presence, he was difficult to miss. When his eyes found mine, I was shocked to see relief flood his features.
Rafe’s hand settled at the small of my back as we approached the table, a silent reminder of his presence. When we reached Ruben, my brother stood awkwardly, his expression now uncertain. It was jarring. I’d so rarely seen my older brothers or father look anything less than supremely confident.
“Hey, Little Mole,” he said softly, no accusation in his tone. I blinked at him in surprise.
“Hi,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper as I sat down. Rafe took the chair next to mine, angling it slightly so his body partly shielded me from my brother. His hand found mine under the table.
Ruben’s eyes flicked to Rafe. “Alright, mate,” he muttered. Was I in an alternate universe? Where was Ruben’s animosity towards me and Rafe?
“Mason,” Rafe said in a tight voice.
“I know what you did,” Ruben said, still looking at Rafe. “And I want you to know I’ve got no beef with you for it. Should have done it myself years ago.”
I frowned, not understanding the subtext. Rafe merely inclined his head slightly, neither confirming nor denying whatever Ruben was implying.
“How are you?” I asked, changing the subject. It was a ridiculous question under the circumstances, but I didn’t know what else to say.
Ruben let out a short, humourless laugh. “As well as you’d expect.” He gestured around. “This is Wandsworth, not a holiday camp. But I’ll manage.” He paused, scanning my face. “You’ve lost more weight.”
I shrugged. “I’m fine.”
Rafe gave my hand a squeeze but he didn’t say anything.
“Is Zach okay?”
“He’s safe,” Rafe answered before I could. “He’s living with us.”
Ruben’s eyes widened slightly. “You’ve got Zach at yours?” When I nodded, he visibly relaxed. “That’s... good. That’s good.”
An awkward silence fell between us. I broke it, finally asking the question that had been plaguing me since we received his request. “Why did you want to see me, Ruben?”
He looked away for a moment, then cleared his throat before he looked back at me. “I want you to know, I tried,” he told me, a broken quality to his voice now. “I tried to protect you and Zach. I—”
“You failed,” Rafe said, cutting him off.
Ruben’s eyes flashed and I got a glimpse of the old Ruben.
The one who wouldn’t tolerate disrespect.
The scary motherfucker who could make men piss themselves with just a look.
Then he rubbed his hands down his face and the look was wiped clean, leaving an unfamiliar, defeated expression.
“It wasn’t that easy,” he growled out. “I was born into that shit. I lived and breathed it from the moment I could process. I had a mother that never protected me and––”
“I was born into it too,” I snapped. “I was there too.”
“But you had me.” His voice was raised now and he’d lifted up slightly from his chair. A guard took a couple of steps towards us, but Ruben settled back down and Rafe waved the guard away. “You had me,” he said again. His voice now was quieter but firm.
“I don’t under––”
“When you were born you were so tiny.” His voice was hoarse now.
“So, so small. So vulnerable. Same with Zach. I couldn’t let the same happen to you as it did me.
I know I didn’t always manage it, but I deflected Dad and Freddie.
I distracted them, redirected them and their violence, at least I tried to. ”
He glanced at the yet-to-fade bruise on my cheek and flinched. “I could have tried harder,” he whispered.
There was a long silence then, during which some memories filtered back into my mind: Ruben buying presents for me and Zach at Christmas, Ruben helping me change Zach’s nappies when he was a baby, Ruben barring my entry to the house more than once after I’d left home, sometimes with that wild look in his eyes, telling me to fuck off.
It was his way of shielding me; keeping me separate from the family was his only way of protecting me.
Then other fuzzier memories came through: me at five years old, having fallen and scraped my knee, Ruben picking me up and cuddling me, straightening my glasses and then putting a plaster on the small scrape, calling me his brave little mole. Then Dad’s angry voice:
“Stop fussing her. She needs to toughen up.”
“Keep that brat away from the gear for fuck’s sake, Ruben.”
I leaned forward and placed my hand over my brother’s on the table. He flinched and his eyes flew to mine. To my shock, they were glassy with tears. “You did the best you could,” I told him in a hoarse voice. “You tried.”
“I should have been braver,” he pushed out. “What you did…” He shook his head once. “Now that’s bravery. You, Little Mole, you’re braver than all of us fucking thugs.”
“Ruben I––”
“You’ll look after her,” Ruben cut me off, looking at Rafe now. It wasn’t a question; it was a command, but I could hear the thread of desperation running through it. Ruben was worried and he was powerless. “And Zach. You’ll protect them.”
“Always,” said Rafe firmly.
Rafe
Ruben Mason hadn’t deserved my reassurance. Maybe he had tried to protect his younger siblings, but he could have done more. I almost told him to fuck off when he barked his command at me, but the broken look in his eyes stopped me. Frank Mason had damaged all of his children in different ways.
As we walked out with the other visitors, I took Clara’s hand again and she gripped it like a lifeline. A wave of apprehension swept over me. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
“Clara,” I said softly, pulling her gently to a stop and letting the other visitors stream past us. “Don’t you think that’s enough for today? If you want to come back in a few months, then we can––”
She shook her head, that fire back in her eyes. “No. I need to do this, Rafe.”
By God, she was brave. I could feel the nervous tremors running through her, see how pale her face was, but her jaw was tilted at a stubborn angle, her mouth set in a grim, determined line. Clara Mason was not leaving here without seeing her father. I sighed.
“Lord Sterling?” a guard said as he approached us.
“Is the room ready?” I asked, resigned that this was going to happen, but relieved that it would be my way.
He nodded. “As requested.”
“Lead the way,” I clipped, and we followed him as he led us in the opposite direction to the crowd. We emerged into a long corridor and then stopped in front of a non-descript door.
The officer unlocked the door, revealing a small, austere room with a table and three chairs.
“He’s being brought in now,” he said. “The systems are offline for the next fifteen minutes. I’ll be outside. Knock when you’re finished.”
“Offline?” Clara whispered. I grabbed her other hand as the officer left the room and turned her to face me.
“Are you sure?” I asked. Uncertainty flickered across her expression before that fire was back.
“I’m sure.”
I felt a sinking sense of foreboding, but before I could drag Clara away from this bloody place, the door on the opposite side of the room opened. Two guards entered, escorting Frank Mason between them.
His eyes widened when he saw Clara, then narrowed when they shifted to me. The bruises on his face had faded to sickly yellow-green, but his left arm was still in a cast. He looked smaller somehow, diminished in his prison-issue clothes, without his expensive watch and signet ring.
“What’s this?” he demanded, glaring at the guards. “I was told this was about my case.”
“Leave us,” I told them. They hesitated only briefly before exiting, closing the door behind them.
Frank’s face twisted into a sneer. “Playing Lord of the Manor even in here? Must be nice to have the system in your pocket.”
“Sit down, Frank,” I said, my voice cold as ice.
“I don’t take orders from—”
I moved too quickly for Frank to have time to react, darting forward, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him into the chair with enough force that it skidded back several inches.
“I said,” I repeated, leaning down until my face was inches from his, “sit down.”
Real fear flickered across his expression as his eyes darted between me and Clara. I let go of his collar and moved back to her side.
“What’s the snitch doing here?” he asked, jerking his chin towards me.
“Frank, you piece of––”
“I came to tell you, I won,” Clara said, cutting me off and shocking the absolute shit out of me.
“Proud of yourself, are you?” Frank sneered. “You and your pathetic brother. You’ve always been weak; the pair of you are an embarrassment.”
“And yet we’re not the ones in prison.”
“I wouldn’t bloody well be here if it wasn’t for you, you fucking snitch cunt!” he yelled. “You happy now? Your father and brothers banged up. Your mother alone. When I get out of here I’m gonna––”
“That’s enough!” screamed Clara, her hand slamming down on the table in front of her.
Frank flinched as the noise cracked through the room.
His face paled as he stared up at his furious daughter.
“You are never getting out of here. Not ever. You will rot in this place or you’ll be killed, either is fine with me, but you will never be a free man again.
So, I won. I brought you down. I snitched and, yes, I am fucking proud of myself. ”
Frank blinked at her, his face flushed and his nostrils flaring.
“I’m done here,” Clara said after a few moments had passed. “I’ve said what I needed to say.”
“We’re not done,” I said, focusing on Frank. “We still have five minutes.”
Frank’s red face drained of colour as he swallowed, his eyes darting to the door the guards left through. “What are you on about, five minutes?” he snapped.
“There have been some power outages at Wandsworth in the last few weeks, Frank,” I told him almost conversationally. “Unfortunately, an outage is currently affecting the legal consultation rooms. To be more specific, this legal consultation room.” I checked my watch. “For the next four minutes.”
Frank stood suddenly, his expression now panicked. “Stay away from me, you posh psycho.”
“Kneel, Frank,” I said softly.
“Fuck off,” he spat. “I’m not…”
“I could break your neck right now, and the official report would say you tripped and fell. Or maybe you’ll have an accident in prison. Fall down the stairs. Slip in the shower. Happens all the time.”
Real fear flashed in his eyes then.
“You can’t be––”
“On. Your. Knees. Now!”
I had thought I would have to force him down, but Frank had seen the stone-cold determination in my eyes. Clara gasped as he dropped down awkwardly onto the floor.
“Now, apologise to your daughter.” I took a step towards him and he shrank back slightly. “I’m waiting, Frank.”
“I’m sorry,” he said in a low, almost inaudible voice.
I raised an eyebrow. “Again,” I snapped. “But this time you say: I’m sorry for being an abusive piece of shit. I’m a pathetic coward who picks on people half my size to make myself feel like a big man.”
I made him say it three times, each time a little louder than before. Then I looked at Clara.
“Enough?” I asked.
“Not quite,” she muttered, staring at her father.
Before I could stop her, she took a step forward and spat in his face.
I pulled her back out of his reach as he surged forward.
The timer on my phone went off at that moment, and the guards burst into the room to grab Frank who was seemingly trying to attack his daughter.
Clara looked up at me and smiled. “Now we’re done.”