The Faithless - Martina Cole [121]
Gofers were the mugs who ended up doing the shit work – cleaning people’s cells, making the tea. It was ‘Go for this’, or ‘Go for that’. Vincent had found himself a niche there; it was well known he had been captured and had kept very quiet – not landing anyone in it but doing the time for them all. That had earned him a great deal of respect, especially as he had been so young. He had worked up from there, proving himself in small ways, and gaining a reputation for being a hard little fucker as well as a good companion. It was not an easy life, and it was hard for them all, but he had managed to overcome it. He had kept his head down, served his time and, now he had repaid his so-called debt to society, he was finally going home.
As he stepped out of the prison, he felt a rush of panic because, right up until this second, he had believed that it would go wrong somehow, and he would be stuck in there for good. As he acclimatised himself to the natural light, he saw a large black Bentley and, standing by it waving at him, dressed in a short black dress, was his Gabby.
He ran to her and picked her up in his arms. Her body fit into his perfectly as if they had been made for each other and, kissing her deeply, he felt at last like he was out. He was really on the other side of the wall.
‘Oh, Gabby, you fucking gorgeous girl, this is like a fucking dream!’
Gabby was nearly speechless with happiness. ‘Come on, mate, get in! We’re finally going home.’
Vincent could feel her tears mingle with his as he kissed her over and over, afraid to let her go in case it all was a dream.
In the car, she handed him a bottle of Champagne, and said shyly, ‘You’d better open that, mate, it’s from Bertie Warner. He’s waiting for us – there’s a big party, and it’s all for you!’ She was beside herself with excitement.
The driver, a large, usually dour man called Peter Bates, turned and shook his hand saying jovially, ‘I am going to put the glass up. Nothing personal, but I think you two might like a bit of privacy.’
Two minutes later the glass divide was up, and the curtains were drawn. Looking at his Gabby, at how nervous she seemed, Vincent knew then that this would be the happiest day of his life. As he slipped her dress over her head, he felt how shy and timid she was, and he would always remember this moment. Because she was, without doubt, the love of his life, and he knew that she felt the same way about him. All his fears about them finally being together were gone. It felt as natural as walking or talking. He also knew that if anyone ever hurt her, he would kill them without hesitation. He had left behind a schoolgirl, and had come out to find a woman, his woman. His Gabriella.
Chapter one Hundred and Nineteen
‘The motor’s here, it’s just driven into the car park.’
The pub was packed with people, and little Cherie was the queen of the night and loving every second of it. Her daddy was coming home at last, and she was thrilled at the prospect. It was like a dream to her; the noise, the people, the dancing! And it was all for her daddy.
Her great-nana Mary and her great-granddad Jack were sitting at a table proud as punch, and she picked up on the way people deferred to them. Nanny Cynthia though looked cross and she didn’t know why. Her daddy’s family was also there, and she sensed that they were not as welcome as everyone else. It was a wonderful night, and everyone was telling her how pretty she looked, and how lovely she was. It was a great feeling being so important, so special. Her daddy must be somebody to have all this done for him, and she was proud to be a part of it.
As Vincent walked into the pub with his arm around Gabby’s shoulders, Cherie ran to him, and he picked her up and threw her into the air. She hugged him tightly, her slim little arms locked on to his neck, and he kissed her hair, savouring the clean smell