A girl appeared before my closed eyes. She was a fresh faced eighteen year old, naïve and inexperienced, easily led by others. Me. I had just left school with a clutch of good grades under my wing. Working hard had paid off and I gained a place at university to study Law and Psychology. Like most students I took a gap year keen to have a taste of life before settling down and working hard
Everything was falling into place. I left my small hometown to go to live in the city. Like a moth drawn to a light, I must admit I was attracted to the big, bright, glowing lights of such an exciting place with so much to offer. Despite the opportunities, moving to a diverse and sometimes lonesome city was hard at first but I persevered and eventually found a job as a waitress in an Italian restaurant near the centre. Nothing special, just a few hours for a reasonable wage. My boss, Mr Milligani and his wife were extremely kind and understanding of my situation in moving to somewhere where I knew nothing or no-one, so she allowed me to stay in the flat above the restaurant, free of additional charge. They both had a family of six children, all boys who were aged between eighteen and thirty years old, all except one had reputable jobs as bankers in the city. Twenty five year old Martino was the exception. He had become known as the “black sheep” of the family. His notoriety for trouble was well known around the community as he had already spent a spell in prison for attempted robbery when he was nineteen. Six years on, he was released on bail and back with vengeance.
I meet Martino one day whilst working in the restaurant, washing dishes in the back before opening time. I remember distinctly my feelings when I first set eyes on him. The clichéd “love at first sight” theory did apply at that point as I glanced up from my monotonous and tiresome work of cleaning at this tall, dark stranger. I did not know who he was until he enquired of his mother’s whereabouts. An air of mystery surrounded this man and I was desperate to find more about him. Of course I knew about his incriminating past but that did not bother me. His visit to the restaurant was a brief one, and before I knew it he had left. All day was spent thinking about him and wondering if I would ever see him again. These thoughts seemed to drag me on through the day, through my work of cleaning which bored me to the brink of tears.
All of my hoping and pleading that I would encounter this wondrous man whose presence had plagued me so, must have had an effect because by total coincidence we met that night at a bar in the city. It was written in the stars- we were meant to be! I then had the perfect opportunity to carry out my wishes of the day by speaking to him. He was so charming, very unlike the stereotype of an ex-criminal and certainly not like the descriptions of the people who knew him prior to his conviction. “He is not what he makes out to be. I would not trust him as far as I could throw him”, his mother even confessed. Despite a warning from a person who would know him so well, I ignored it and carried on loving and thinking about him at every second in the day. Nothing would change my opinion.
Gradually, much to my happiness, we became even closer and I moved in with him to his flat. Though it was small, damp, riddled with dirt and grime with a pungent odour following our every move and situated in a relatively rough neighbourhood, it seemed the picture of beauty in my state of ecstatic joy. He told me he loved me more than anything in the world. Naively enough I believed him.
Looking back now I realise it was just a game for him- to see how far I would go in order to please him. We were very poor, the only income we had was benefit (I had given up my job in order to live with him). Society has a habit of demoralising people who have been in prison, so no one had any intention of giving him a job. He became increasingly depressed over money. I would have done anything to snap him out of his nearly suicidal state.
A plan formed in his mind. We were going to rob a bank. I was to do most of the work while he played the part of the lookout (he told me it wasn’t safe for him to do the robbery due to his past record, and it would be less a risk if I did it). Apparently this would be the answer to all our problems. I wasn’t convinced. Finally, after much persuasion on his part I agreed to “The Robbery”.
It took place on the night of Friday 28th September at approximately 9 0’clock when there would only be one person there, counting money and doing the books. Martino said someone was on our side that day as it was beautiful and sunny, a sure sign everything would go fine. As the clock ticked closer to 9 0’clock I increasingly became anxious. I knew full well what I was about to do was very wrong and what the consequences were if I were caught. Martino tried his best to re-assure me and told me he had no doubt in his mind that I would fail him. I was petrified but knew it was too late to back out.
At precisely 8:45 we left the flat in the white van he borrowed from his friend. In the back of it I changed into the “gear” which consisted of black trousers, black jumper and a black balaclava. As soon as I put them on I was disgusted- I was nothing but a common criminal, a repulsive feeling which forced me to sob during the final stages of the drive. The van stopped. I was pushed out onto the High Street; by the man that I thought loved me.
The night was cold and dark, though the street lamps were on. No one was about. A surge of terror overwhelmed my body and made my legs quake with fear. My mind was like the swirling waters of a rapid, engulfing every rational thought. I had to do it for the man I loved.
“SMASH”, I broke the glass with a strength inside me I never knew exisisted. An alarm sounded and from out of the store room a middle-aged balding man ran.
“Put your hands above your head,” a voice screeched. I realised that voice belonged to me. My shaking hands brandishing a gun led the man into the back room.
“Now put all of the money in this bag! QUICK!”
The alarm kept ringing and ringing, the repetitive sound making my already aching head pound.
The man was loading the wads of cash silently into the bag I had thrust on the desk. I kept pushing him, making him go quicker and quicker. The police would be here any second.
I was right. From all angles they surrounded me, urging me to drop the gun. The handcuffs went on and I was roughly bundled into a police van. There was no sign of Martino. He had run off into the maze of city streets, leaving me to face the music. A sudden realision hit me like a run away truck- I had been set up. He had never loved me, just used me and left me when the plan went wrong.
The next hours and days were a barrage of questions, for which I had no answers. When I was finally brought to this place it was with some relief that I was left alone. The noise of the cell door opening brought me back to present time.
It was the Guard returning. This time he was not alone. A man not much older than myself was with him. “This is the Lawyer that has been appointed by the court,” he sneered. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” dragging the cell door shut as he left us alone.
The young man was indeed only two years older than me. He was just out of Law School and I was one of his first cases but his first where a long sentence could be handed down, I don’t know why he told me. It did not exactly fill me with confidence. He seemed to have just as much fear as me. I told him my story, throughout which he spent nodding his head or writing in his large notebook. The meeting did not take long. The Lawyer did not want to stay long in the prison but get back to the clean air of freedom.
The trail was to start tomorrow and would last for one day only. The Judges, I was told by the Lawyer before he left hastily, are very harsh in the city, particularly where robbery of money was concerned. I was again left alone with my thoughts, this time not of the past, but the future. What future?
By Ruth Davies