Jacqui Rose - Trapped

Consequently, she should have been of use to the police coming into her room, turning it upside down and leaving it a mess. But for some reason, on that day it’d irritated her more than usual. When she’d objected, the copper had just sneered at her. She’d felt her temper swimming through her veins and she’d wanted to clout him, just to take the smug sound out of his voice. But she hadn’t, well not until they’d found the bag of pills which she didn’t know anything about. ‘I’ve never seen them before.’

‘Well then whose are they, Maggie?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know what they are either and neither do you. They could be Smarties for all you know.’

‘I’ll need you to come down to the station whilst we check.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘I’m afraid you’ve got no choice.’

‘You don’t understand; I can’t.’

Maggie remembered she’d looked over to see her father coming to stand at her bedroom door. There would’ve been no way she could’ve talked to the coppers in front of him. To tell them what she needed to say and explain why she couldn’t get banged up then. ‘Listen, give me an hour and I’ll come. I promise.’

They’d grinned at each other, bursting out into laughter. ‘ This isn’t a social engagement. You know the routine, Maggie; you and your family have certainly had enough practice. You’ll probably be bailed by tomorrow.’

Tomorrow. Her mind had raced. Wondering where her mother was. Then Maggie had looked over again to her father, and by the look in his eyes she knew he knew something about the pills. She’d stared at him harder, and out of view of the sergeant her father shrugged his shoulders, mouthing a mocking apology.

It was then she’d acted like a fool. And once again he’d managed to wind her up to the point of her behaving stupidly and rashly.

It’d actually been her father she’d flown at, not the Sergeant at the door standing next to him. But her fist didn’t differentiate between the two of them. It was a genuine mistake. But a mistake which had made all hell break loose.

A wall of blue uniforms had rushed towards her. For the next ten minutes Maggie Donaldson had kicked and struggled, pushing the men away, surprising them with her force. Then she’d felt a heavy weight on her back as she was forced to the ground by a knee. She’d slammed to the ground, banging her chin on the corner of the open drawer. The blood had sprayed everyone and Maggie had felt a burning pain as her chin split open. She’d howled a deep stomach churning cry, not for the pain, but for what she knew she was about to leave behind.

Maggie stood up from the cold step, rubbing her chin to feel the small scar. A reminder of her stupidity. She should’ve known better. But her father’s mocking scorn had hurt and made her feel humiliated, which always turned into anger.

At the time it’d crossed Maggie’s mind her father had deliberately put the pills – which turned out to be ecstasy tablets – in her drawer. But when she found out the truth, she’d seen it for what it was; a series of unfortunate events which had cost her dearly.

The pills had been confiscated from one of her father’s clients, who hadn’t been able to pay his weekly instalment.

Nicky had been given the task of picking them up to sell at the clubs. Their father, counting on Nicky to come within the hour hadn’t bothered being cautious and had left the pills in the house, which he never usually would’ve done, putting them in her drawer for an hour’s safekeeping. What he hadn’t counted on was Nicky’s insatiable appetite for drugs, his need for a hit being greater than the fear of the brutal consequences of disobeying their father’s orders.

Waiting for Nicky to turn up, Max had snorted some lines of coke, cracked open a bottle of whiskey and drank himself into a stupor. He was oblivious to the fact that Nicky hadn’t turned up until he was woken the next morning by the sound of the front door being broken down.

They didn’t charge her with possession. Her father had made the pill owner claim he’d left them in her room. The police didn’t believe the story, neither did anyone else, but the judge had given the man thirteen months, and Maggie suspected the terrified man had seen being behind bars as a preferable option to owing Max Donaldson money.

Nicky had been inconsolable at playing, as he saw it, a monumental role in putting her behind bars. But when Maggie had seen him in the prison visiting room she hadn’t been angry. She’d just hugged him until the prison officers had come over, warning her if there was any more physical contact the visit would be over.

Maggie’s heart had gone out to Nicky. Not just because of the engorged black eye and the cuts and bruises he’d received from their father, but because he was a Donaldson and how Maggie saw it, being born into her family was simply part of the series of unfortunate events.

It wasn’t in the name of love her father had helped get her off the charges. She’d no doubt if it was purely down to him he’d have let her take the rap for the pills and left her to rot in the cells. The reason her father had done what he did was because it was the thing to do; the thing expected of him. Max Donaldson couldn’t have been seen not to do the right thing.

Reputation was important. It was fundamental in his line of business; to him and to the other faces in London. Reputation got them to where they were. It helped keep them there. If word had got out that Max had left his own daughter to languish between the walls of Highpoint Prison, his reputation wouldn’t even be worth the paper he wiped his backside on.

The one thing he couldn’t do though was get the charges of attacking a policeman dropped. She, as her father had gladly pointed out, was to blame and ‘There’s fuck all I can do about you smacking a copper in the mouth, Maggie. There’s nobody to blame except yourself. My advice is, pack a decent toothbrush.’

She’d got eighteen months but had served only twelve and a half. Though every second, every minute hand of the clock going round had been akin to a life sentence.

Dusting off her G-star cropped jeans, Maggie started to leave but as she turned the corner into Bateman Street, a small round woman bumped into her. It was Gina Daniels.

Throwing her newly found resolve to the side, Maggie grabbed her, pushing her hard against the wall, slamming her spine into the red bricks and letting her built-up anger spill out. She spoke in a low growl, curling her beautiful lips into a snarl.

‘Tell me what is going on Gina, or I swear to God I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

Gina stayed silent, clearly shocked by the unexpected confrontation. The silence infuriated Maggie. She wanted answers.

About to shake the information out of Gina, Maggie remembered why she’d got herself into this predicament in the first place. Her temper. Her damned fiery temper. She closed her eyes, silently beginning to count to ten. Desperate to keep the Donaldson curse under control. As she counted she felt a slight tug on her jacket then heard a tiny voice.

‘Mummy!’

Maggie turned. Immediately falling to her knees. Her anger disappeared at once as she gazed into a pair of blue eyes full of warmth and love for her.

‘Harley! Oh my God. Oh my God.’

She gently stroked her daughter’s face, not quite being able to believe after twelve and a half long months she was finally seeing her again. She hadn’t allowed her mother to bring her to the prison. She hadn’t wanted Harley to be frightened. She’d been comfortable with that decision, imagining her daughter to be well cared for. Now as she looked at Harley’s unwashed face and tangled hair she could see this clearly hadn’t been the case.