Vanessa Frake - The Governor

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First published by HarperElement 2021

FIRST EDITION

© Vanessa Frake and Ruth Kelly 2021

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A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

Vanessa Frake asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780008390051

Ebook Edition © April 2021 ISBN: 9780008390068

Version: 2021-02-23

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Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008390051

For my wife Ju and our daughter Annie-Mae.

Always.

1 Cover

2 Title Page

3 Copyright

4 Note to Readers

5 Dedication

6 Contents

7 Prologue

8 Chapter 1 New kid on the block

9 Chapter 2 Game face

10 Chapter 3 One bad apple spoils the bunch

11 Chapter 4 Chirpy chappy

12 Chapter 5 Lording it up

13 Chapter 6 What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger

14 Chapter 7 Shit show

15 Chapter 8 The first cut is the deepest

16 Chapter 9 Drugs on a wire

17 Chapter 10 Ace Ventura: Prison Detective

18 Chapter 11 Who let the dogs out?

19 Chapter 12 A shadow of himself

20 Chapter 13 Auntie Rose

21 Chapter 14 Baking the truth

22 Chapter 15 Another rung on the ladder

23 Chapter 16 Law and hoarder

24 Chapter 17 The boy that cried wolf

25 Chapter 18 Ambushed

26 Chapter 19 Rum bugger, run

27 Chapter 20 Who’s the BOSS?

28 Chapter 21 What a shambles

29 Chapter 22 Bent officer

30 Chapter 23 The Colonel’s secret

31 Chapter 24 Who d’ya think you’re talking to?

32 Chapter 25 Staring evil in the eye

33 Chapter 26 Hooch pooch

34 Chapter 27 Ready-made family

35 Chapter 28 Gotcha!

36 Chapter 29 Bent coppers

37 Chapter 30 Surprise of my life

38 Chapter 31 Don’t mess up the curtsey

39 Chapter 32 Playing dead

40 Chapter 33 My way or the highway

41 Chapter 34 The beginning of the end

42 Chapter 35 Curtains

43 Chapter 36 Riot act

44 Chapter 37 The past always catches up

45 Chapter 38 Let sleeping dogs lie

46 Acknowledgements

47 About the Publisher

Landmarks CoverFrontmatterStart of ContentBackmatter

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Now

The salty sweet smell of warm pastry rushes up my nose. I quickly pull the scalding-hot tray of scones from the oven and slide them onto the rack to cool off just as the phone rings.

‘Yep!’ I answer, hooking the receiver between my ear and shoulder while gently prodding the pastry to check it’s cooked through.

It’s Paul, he manages the Angela Reed café, which is just off the main square in the picturesque town of Saffron Walden in Essex. Nice guy. He has a way about him that keeps the customers happy. Bites his tongue, unlike me, who can’t help saying what I think. That’s probably why I’m never front of house but spend my time downstairs in the basement, cooking. That, and the fact I love baking.

‘We’ve just had a woman come in who’s bought your entire batch of fruit scones,’ he exclaims. ‘How long until the next batch is ready?’

It was a bigger shock to me than anyone when I heard my culinary creations had become legendary in the town. Me , who has spent the best part of my life living off microwave meals, who wouldn’t have been seen dead attempting to make a gluten-free lemon and almond sponge. Just one of many on my repertoire these days.

‘I’m on it,’ I say, scooping the scones into a bowl and placing them in the dumb waiter. Door shut. Button pressed. Hey presto and then, all of a sudden, it strikes. Blood – everywhere, spraying across the kitchen surfaces, pooling on the floor. I scrunch my eyes shut, trying to push the memory away.

‘Alrighty, what next.’ I chat to myself, hoping that will keep me in the present. I grab a Pyrex bowl and get to work on making my signature cherry almond Bakewell cake.

Butter and sugar – I start beating it together. I’m looking for a light and fluffy texture. The mixture clumps, sticking to the spoon like mud. I prise it off with my forefinger and thumb and begin again. Round and round I beat it, giving it some welly.

I’ve been downstairs baking away since I began my shift at 8 a.m. My face is powdered with a dusting of flour. Dough is crusted into the corners of my fingernails. Upstairs it’ll be getting busy. Locals coming and going, picking up a slice of their favourite cake. Dropping in for their morning cup of coffee and a catch-up. Saffron Walden is a bustling market country town where gossip is rife.

I’m the one secret no one knows about though.

The pressure is on to get my almond and cherry creation into the oven. Four eggs – I crack them one by one on the side of the bowl and mix them in. There it is again, hitting me like a tidal wave. All of a sudden, I’m back inside . Thrust into the industrial-sized kitchen in the bowels of the prison …