by Gemma Rogers
Wednesday was hump day, only three more days until the weekend was my mantra on the way to work. I was dreading seeing Terry, already imagining the sickening smile I’d receive when he saw me. His eyes lighting up at his new prize. My stomach burned with it as I fought to push the thoughts away.
I checked my phone, surprised I hadn’t heard from Helen, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before she got in touch. I was biding my time, waiting for her explanation now Mum had told me everything. Surely, she’d be remorseful for the lies she’d told.
Karla was smoking outside the entrance just before nine as I approached.
‘Thought you might not show,’ she said, pulling her coat in tighter, wisps of frozen breath floating away. She threw her butt on the ground and trod it into the concrete.
‘Don’t have much choice,’ I replied, and we entered Bright’s together, clocking in.
I tried not to look in the office as we passed, but I couldn’t help it. Terry was shovelling in a bacon sandwich, his fingers covered in brown sauce.
‘Ladies,’ he greeted, mid-chew, with a wink.
Karla gave him the finger, but I couldn’t bring myself to react.
At the wall of lockers, we put on our tabards, both crumpled from being stuffed in our bags overnight and not hung up like they were supposed to be.
‘Give me your number,’ Karla said, and I pulled out my phone to look it up, the number so new I was unable to remember it off the top of my head. I hesitated before I read it aloud. Did I want Karla to be able to contact me outside of work? She was abrasive, even hostile at times but I had to start making new friends at some point. ‘God your phone is a relic!’ She snorted at my flip-style Motorola, as she typed the number in. I wrinkled my nose as I looked at the silver chunky handset. I believed it was Helen’s old phone from years ago. My old phone had been smashed then seized in the accident.
‘Yeah well I’m skint. How did you afford that?’ I asked Karla as she tucked her iPhone in her locker.
‘None of your business,’ she said playfully as I put mine away and snapped the padlock shut. We strolled into the warehouse, keen to look at the rota to see what the day would bring.
Terry had split us up and I was teamed with Agnes again, who chatted about her love of period dramas and how she was watching the Downton Abbey series again from the start. Karla was paired with Lisa, a small girl with pixie-short hair and a button nose with a ring through it.
We were working on the pressing machines, feeding white and red tablecloths through from a trolley into the press where they were caught on a roll on the other side. It was one of the hardest jobs as you had to constantly feed the fabric through, and my shoulders ached from the repetitive lifting. The machine was noisy but not loud enough to drown out Agnes.
All day I was on tenterhooks, waiting for Terry to call me in. It reminded me of being sent to the headteacher’s office, which had been often. He moved around the warehouse, doing spot checks on our work, seemingly happy with our quota. It was then I noticed how all the girls physically shrank away from him, small movements I hadn’t spotted before. Their body language changed whenever he was around. How many of us was he taking advantage of?
Surely only the threat of going back to prison would be a motivator. But then there was Agnes, who had children to feed, as well as her mum, yet to return to Poland. I hadn’t heard her speak of a man at home. I was sure she’d not been to prison; she wasn’t one of the girls Barry saw. Perhaps the threat of losing her job, the only income, was enough to give in to Terry’s demands?
When five o’clock came, I waved goodbye to Karla and headed straight home without looking back. I didn’t wait to see who was Terry’s chosen one today. On the way I picked up some tobacco and microwave meals from the local shop. Turning up the halogen heater I sat on my bed with a plate of steaming lasagne and the rest of The Enchanted Wood. Bereft when I finished the final page. I’d have to look out for The Folk of the Faraway Tree next, but I had the teenage fiction book I’d picked up from the charity shop to start on.
Just as I finished washing up my plate, a thud came from the door, followed by a knock. I pulled it open expecting to see Stuart, but Helen stood outside, scowling.
‘Can I come in?’ she huffed.
I took a deep breath and pulled the door back, allowing her inside.
She moved around the small space, taking in the bed that doubled as a sofa, although I left it out all the time, and the peeling wallpaper where damp had started to creep in. Wrinkling her nose at the bedsit I now called home.
‘I bought you some things,’ she said, handing me a carrier bag like a peace offering.
I put it on the worktop without glancing inside.
‘Why, Helen? Why did you do it? I don’t get it. Do you have any idea what it was like for me inside? With no contact, no letters, nothing to look forward to. Thinking your family has disowned you?’ My temperature shot skyward, underarms dampening as I tried to keep a lid on my fury.
‘Did you think about what it was like for us? How Mum had a brick put through her window… twice!’ Helen sniped back, her hands on her hips.
‘Fuck’s sake, I’ve apologised a thousand times, I can’t do any more. I’ve done my time, paid my debt to society. You can’t stop me from seeing Mum. She wants to see me, and I want to help, Helen,’ I said, exasperated.
She sighed and sank down onto my bed. Eyes wide, she stared up at me. ‘I was trying to protect her. You didn’t see how hurt she was. We were victimised, hounded in the street. The stroke was the final straw.’ Helen sniffed, a single tear escaping before she swiped it away.
‘When were you going to tell me about it?’
‘I don’t know, when you got out, I guess, but I wasn’t sure how. Maybe I made the wrong decisions, but I was only trying to protect Mum.’
I flopped down beside her, hung my head and sobbed into my palms.
Helen rested her hand on my shoulder, rubbing gently. I had no idea how we could move on. Was our relationship broken?
After an age Helen spoke, her voice quiet and unassuming. ‘Mum was happy to see you. She hasn’t stopped going on about it. She wants you to come for dinner on Friday.’
‘Okay,’ I replied, turning my head away from Helen and wiping my face. She got the hint and stood to leave.
‘Be round for half six, okay?’
I nodded.
‘I’m sorry.’ She sounded genuine.
‘Me too,’ I whispered as the door closed behind her.
A fitful night’s sleep followed where I dreamt of Mum in hospital, a constant stream of drool from her lips. Helen was wearing a nurse’s outfit and kept wheeling her trolley in and topping up her meds. I was in the room, but no one could hear me shouting as I attempted to prevent Helen sedating our mother.
I woke in a sweat at around four in the morning, the birds already awake outside. All attempts to go back to sleep were futile, so I got ready for another day at Bright’s. The rock in my stomach seeming to have doubled overnight.
10
Thursday morning was a laugh. Terry was out until after lunch, visiting clients, and Laura, one of the newer girls, snuck a radio in. We had three blissful hours of Kiss FM and were all dancing at our stations as we loaded, folded and pressed. I had no idea who sang most of the songs, massively out of touch, but it didn’t matter. Lisa had a TikTok account and filmed us all dancing like loons. I’d never heard of the app, but she was addicted, constantly posting videos and showing us the latest dance crazes.
All afternoon the mood was buoyant, even with Terry back – we hummed to ourselves and shuffled to music only we could hear. Karla and I were a load behind as she’d forgotten to put any powder in our first wash and stains were still visible when we pulled them out.
‘What the fuck is that?’ Terry swore as he passed by and saw the stain on the tablecloth we’d dried and folded. He held it to the light, examining what looked like a curry stain. ‘Wash it all again,’ he snapped, throwing
the cloth back at Karla, wincing as he thumped his chest with his fist.
‘What’s up with him?’ I whispered when he’d gone.
‘Fat fucker suffers with indigestion, probably because he’s always fucking eating!’
I sniggered.
When five o’clock came around, we were still waiting for the dryer to finish so we could press the load we had to do again.
‘Go on, you go, I’ll do it. I forgot to put the stuff in.’ Karla sighed, knowing everyone had to finish their jobs before they went home.
‘It’s all right, haven’t got anywhere else to be,’ I confessed.
‘Karla,’ Terry called before striding into view. He beckoned her over and whispered in her ear just as the machine stopped.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Karla said, turning to me, her voice strained. My muscles twitched.
‘Okay, I’ll get this pressed,’ I called after her.
After the door to the dryer unlocked, I pulled the tablecloths out and rolled the trolley to the press machine. All the time chewing the inside of my cheek and trying not to think about what Karla was being forced to do in the office.
I got the load pressed pretty quickly, as tablecloths, unlike the sheets, only had to go through once. They were folded and bagged up by twenty past and I headed to the locker to get my things.
Terry’s office door was closed and the blinds down which only meant one thing. The closer I got, I could hear grunts coming from inside and my body clenched. I tiptoed closer and saw one of the metal slats of the blind had got twisted, allowing me to see into the office. The sight made me gag.
Karla was bent over Terry’s desk, her jeans around her ankles. Hair bobbing as he held her down with the palm of his hand. Thrusting rhythmically from behind, making the desk squeak on its hinges.
I looked away, closing my eyes as though I could erase what I’d just seen.
I heard a low guttural noise as Terry climaxed, followed by a thud, and I scurried away, my heart hammering. I loitered by the exit, wanting to make sure Karla was going to walk out of that room. She clocked me as soon as the door opened and practically ran to the lockers to get her things and out of the building. Just as I had earlier in the week.
‘I need a drink,’ she said, visibly shaken, and we headed into the nearest pub, The Plough.
I sat Karla in a quiet corner and bought two gin and tonics after getting option paralysis at the bar, then returned to the table. We sat in silence as I didn’t know what to say. Should I admit I’d seen everything?
‘He’s a monster,’ Karla said, her eyes threatening but refusing to waste any tears. She was incredibly resilient, and I admired her strength. What had made her so tough? What had she done to warrant being sent to prison? I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t just blurt it out. None of the girls at Bright’s talked much about prison, I hadn’t heard them mention what Karla had been inside for and I didn’t want her to catch me asking questions.
‘Has he done that before?’ I asked.
‘No,’ she sniffed, ‘it’s because I’ve only got a month left and I’ll be free.’ Karla knocked her drink back.
‘We have to stop him,’ I said, finishing my glass.
Karla got up to get us another, pulling her provisional driver’s licence out of her purse to show the barman. I glimpsed the date of birth, practically all I could see by the way she held it. Karla was a year older than me. ‘They always ID me in here,’ she explained.
I nodded, the heat from the alcohol warming my chest as I waited for her to return. I had no idea how we were going to get Terry to leave us alone. Perhaps we could try Barry, surely, he couldn’t know the extent of Terry’s abuse?
‘What about Barry?’ I asked when Karla sat down.
‘Everyone has spoken to Barry at some point. He fobs us off, says he’ll talk to Terry, take it further, but don’t you get it? Barry’s on the payroll. Isn’t it a bit of a coincidence us girls are all so similar, small, light, skinny…? That’s Terry’s type. Barry gets a cut, favours or whatever from Terry for delivering him girls like us. Fresh out of prison, stuck in the system and easy to manipulate. He can do whatever he likes and if we misbehave, Barry has the power to put us back inside. Our suspended sentences gone in a flash.’
‘But if we all had the same story, we could expose them both.’
‘To who? No one gives a fuck, Jess.’ Karla sighed, rubbing her temples.
We finished our drinks and left.
‘Will you be okay?’ I asked, as we prepared to go in separate directions home.
‘Yeah, I’m going to meet with some friends, get smashed.’
My side twinged; I hadn’t been invited, but we were friends by proxy not by design.
We said goodbye and I waited for the bus, watching Karla head up the road. I still didn’t know where she lived, only that she was crashing on someone’s sofa.
Back at home, I found a bottle of vodka outside the door with a bow stuck on the front and a note from Stuart.
Forgot to give this to you last week, won it in a raffle on the team building.
Hope you like it. Thanks for watching the house.
Stuart
The timing couldn’t have been better. I drank mainly cider before I went to prison, that’s what all the teenagers drank then, but any alcohol would do to numb my brain. I treated myself to a tiny shot, which almost made me gag, before I sat down on my bed to go through the bag for life Helen had brought yesterday. On top I could see some clothes – a T-shirt, a sweatshirt and some leggings – beneath those were two more books, a towel, some dried pasta sachets, teabags, UHT milk, forty Silk Cut and a massive bar of Galaxy chocolate. She must have been feeling guilty.
I beamed from ear to ear, tearing open the chocolate. Snapping off a line, I nibbled at it, the taste popping on my tongue as I turned the books over. They were called We Were Liars and The Host, more teenage fiction, which I loved. Tucked inside The Host was an unopened envelope, still with its stamp, addressed to me at Thornton Road. On the back written in block capitals was FOR RELEASE DAY. I vaguely recognised the swirly writing and tore open the flap, pulling out the folded paper. It was signed from Ashley.
I remembered the sophisticated profile photo on Facebook, how changed she was, but the letter was dated 2016, just two months after my sentencing. After I’d asked her not to write to me at Bronzefield any more.
Jess,
I can never apologise enough for that night; I still don’t understand how they thought you were to blame. I know you don’t want to see me because you want me to escape from this place. You’re right, I do want to leave, but I never wanted to escape from you or what I did.
Hopefully your sister will save this and give it to you when you’re released. Please find me. You know where I’ll be.
Your bestie,
Ash x
I opened the front door and lit a cigarette, leaning on the uPVC frame. A warm glow spread through me, trying to fight its way through the bitterness which coursed in my veins. It wasn’t her fault, not really. Just circumstance. I’d never had a best friend like Ashley and I probably wouldn’t again.
What would she think of me now? In my hand-me-down clothes, a bag of bones with no spark in my eyes. Scrolling through her Facebook photos back in the library, Ashley had moved on, new friends, new town. I was sure the last thing she’d want was a blast from the past.
11
There was no point in dwelling. Karla was right, I just had to keep my head down and get through my probation. Next week would be my fourth week, payday was looming, and I’d be one month closer to freedom. I texted Helen to say thanks for the stuff she brought over and I was looking forward to dinner. I couldn’t deny I was still angry, but perhaps it was time to accept her peace offering and try to build bridges.
Elated the weekend was within reach, I walked to work, a bounce in my step. However, my mood deteriorated as soon as I saw Terry walking around the warehouse with Barry. He was in again, visiting, an
d throughout the morning, he called the probationers in one by one.
When it was my turn, I glared at him across the desk. The skin around Barry’s eyes crinkled.
‘What’s up with you? You look like you’ve got a right cob on.’
‘Nothing,’ I replied, sullenly. There was no point saying anything, Karla was adamant he was part of it all.
Barry narrowed his eyes, taking me in and then the penny dropped. ‘I know Terry is a bit… friendly,’ he said, his words measured, ‘but he’s a good employer. You could do much worse.’
I scoffed, unable to believe what I was hearing. Had Terry told Barry what he’d made me do? Had I been scored out of ten, compared to the others? The idea sickened me.
I looked away, eyes stinging, and he started going through the checklist. When the meeting was almost over, he lingered over the comments box on the form.
‘Anything you’d like to add, to put on the record?’ Barry asked, his pen poised.
‘No point is there.’
‘Look, Jess, just keep your head down. I’m trying to keep you out of prison here.’
‘So you keep saying.’ I got up to leave, heat flushing through my body, powerless to do anything with the anger that bubbled below.
I was the last one to meet with Barry, he left shortly after a chat with Terry. I saw them in his office, Terry swigging from the Gaviscon again as Barry gesticulated wildly. I chewed my thumb when I saw them together, nibbling until the skin was sore. Was he reporting back about our meeting; telling Terry I wasn’t playing ball? What if I’d just given him the excuse to get rid of me, to set me up with the stolen money? I was sure anyone seen to be making trouble would be quickly dispatched. My insides squirmed but I tried to push it from my mind.
I joined Hanna, who was without a partner, and we went through a dirty load which had just been delivered from the hospital. The lorry bleeped as it backed up to the warehouse doors and we stood ready to receive the laundry. Hospital sheets were my least favourite job, sorting out what we could clean and what would have to be incinerated. The hospital was pretty good at sorting them, but sometimes things slipped through the net.
