If only he knew that no matter what he did she would be there for him. She always had been in the past, hadn't she? No matter what he had done, she had stood by him, defended him, cared about him. Why would that change, unless of course he had really murdered the girl and now he was frightened?

She pushed that thought from her head. He was a man and all men chased strange. Her own father had chased enough of it when she was growing up.

She saw a picture of Jimmy flash into her drink-muddled brain and forced it away again. Freddie joked at times that Jimmy was a bit Stoke-on-Trent, well, maybe he was. That would explain why they were so happy. Her sister and Jimmy were like some kind of parody, like a fucking advert for happy families, or Kellogg's Cornflakes.

That might be why. If Jimmy was a bit of a shirt-lifter, then that explained a lot.

She knew what she was thinking was all wrong, and even worse, she was being completely disloyal to a sister who had always supported her, who had always cleared up her messes. But she needed to think it so she could feel better about herself and her husband's latest escapade. Jackie would sacrifice anyone for her own peace of mind, or her husband's.

She was so pleased that he was with her, trying to make her believe in him. This was exactly what she needed in her life. Freddie knew where his bread was buttered and it was buttered with her and by her.

Freddie held his wife, knowing that the more he was with her the more chance she would believe his side of the story. Also, love her or loathe her, Jackie wouldn't blank him even if she had seen him do it with her own eyes. Whatever he said she took on board.

'You didn't do it deliberately, did you, Freddie?'

He had been expecting this question, it meant that he was nearly home and dry. This was where she convinced herself he was telling her the truth. He had been there, done that so many times that he could have nodded off and still given the correct responses.

He pushed her away from him, making sure she felt vulnerable, making sure she felt his upset by his anger. Felt rejected. He looked as innocent as the day was long, he was all wide eyes and broken heart. She knew she had just done a wrong one and she would have to pay for that.

'Please, Jackie, are you trying to hurt me or what? Are you deliberately trying to make me feel even worse than I do already?'

He was picking up his cigarettes now, and his lighter, he was telling her with his body language that he was going to walk away from her, leave her, maybe for good. He was capable of doing that, even over this, he was capable of leaving her high and dry for days or even weeks on end. He had done that so many times, just walked away from her, from the kids…

He sighed heavily. 'I can't do this any more, Jackie, I just can't take this any more, you know. I try and be honest, be straight…'

She was clinging to him now, her whole body was trying to hold him to her, near to her, keep him in his seat so she could look at him, be with him all night. It had been so long since they had loved properly, since she had felt this good about herself.

She loved it when he needed her, and he needed her so rarely that when he did she would do anything to keep the feelings only he made her feel.

Ozzy had no idea what was going on. He had problems of his own. A new screw had appeared as if by magic on the SSB unit and was under the impression he was there to do a job or something.

He would not be bought off, he would not be told and, worse than that, he was under the mistaken apprehension that he had some kind of sway.

That he might even be listened to.

This was an anomaly for all the men on the unit, who had thought he might just be holding out for a few extra quid. That was not unheard of in the prison system, after all they were all after what they could get and the cons and screws alike understood that.

This guy though, this Harry Parker, really was the unreachable screw. They had all heard of them but this was the first time they had ever come across one. He was rude, arrogant and he could not be bought. It was time for them to do what had to be done and it was Ozzy who decided to do the dirty deed.

When young Harry, as he had become known, walked into the recreation room at seven thirty in the evening, ready to tell everyone to go to bed and have sweet dreams etc, he found the place empty except for Ozzy.

Ozzy smiled at him in a friendly but threatening fashion, and said, 'I think it's time we had a meet, don't you?'

Harry shook his head. The more the screws told him he was a mug the more he was determined to do what he thought was right. His arrogance knew no bounds, not yet anyway.

'No, I don't. I think you had better get your fat arse off the chair and get your fat body into your cell. I am bolting down in-' he looked at his watch then – 'fifteen seconds.' He smiled at Ozzy with that infuriating smile he had, the smile that had made his wife leave him, his family endure him and his friends avoid him.

Ozzy didn't move for a while. He stared the man down before saying reasonably, 'So this can never be resolved, is that what you are saying?'

Harry nodded once more, then he said sarcastically and with the voice of a winner, 'At last.'' Pointing at Ozzy, he said in a most disrespectful manner, 'You don't scare me, none of you. You're all villains and you're all banged up. I am going home to my house and the telly. The sooner you understand that on my watch you all take care and look out for yourselves, the better off you will all be.'

Harry was still smiling his maddening smile he had. It never touched his eyes and it held no real mirth.

'Is that right, you obnoxious little cunt.'

Harry was shocked at the language, even though he had heard worse than that over the years. 'Get up, Ozzy, and don't you ever talk to me like that again. If you do you will be on report.'

Ozzy still sat there quietly and without any thought of moving anywhere.

This threw Harry, who was now getting frightened. The other screws should have been there by now and it occurred to him he might be on his own. He was a bully, but only when he was assured he could be one without ever getting any kind of comeback. He was the man in the pub who caused a fight and then stepped back as someone else finished it for him.

Ozzy understood him, probably better than he knew himself, and getting up he walked to Harry and with a lightning movement he chivved him. The shank he used was very sharp and had been made in the machine shop a few days earlier. It was a Stanley knife blade embedded in a piece of wood that was supposed to have been the bow of a model boat being made for a charity auction.

It was a lethal weapon, and it was also a handy little tool.

Ozzy watched as young Harry put his hand up to his throat, and he watched as he saw the complete bewilderment on the man's face. He really could not believe he had been chivved, he had actually believed that he would not get any retribution whatsoever.

It was amazing, really. Someone should have given him the unofficial rulebook. It was down to the screws to take care of each other, it was not the cons' job to make sure they looked after their own.

There was a horrible gurgling noise coming from old Harry. Ozzy had done this enough times to know it was the end of the line for him, he was going to die on the filthy floor of the rec room. Well, he wouldn't be the first, and definitely not the last.

What a pointless death, and what a pointless cunt to come into a drum like this and really believe that he could get the better of them all. Bring back Esther Rantzen and her jobsworths.

He knelt over the dying man, making sure not to get any of the rapidly growing pool of blood anywhere near his shoes or clothes. Harry's eyes had not glazed over just yet. He was still trying to call out, and the blood was coming out of his severed windpipe in little bursts of red mist.