by Rona Halsall
‘What are you doing in here? What do you want?’
Katya smiled at her, picked at the bedspread, removing invisible specks of fluff. ‘Just wanted to say hello. See how you’re getting on.’
‘I’m fine.’ Natalie closed her eyes, leant her forehead on her knees. ‘I don’t need a therapist. Go away.’
Katya laughed again, the sound jarring through Natalie’s body like a jackhammer. ‘I’m not a fucking therapist. My God! Is that what you think? That’s quite an insult, right there.’ Despite the forcefulness of her words, there was amusement in her voice.
Natalie bristled, the pounding in her head increasing. ‘So, who are you then?’
‘It’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it?’
Natalie lifted her head, noticed Katya’s sympathetic gaze. ‘What is?’
‘Coming out of an addiction.’
‘What would you know about it?’
Katya stared at her, mouth pressed into a thin line. ‘Oxy,’ she said, holding Natalie’s gaze. ‘You too?’
Natalie nodded.
Katya sighed, flapped her hand. ‘I know, I know. A silly mistake, I bet, just like me. I had an accident and paracetamol just didn’t do it. I needed something stronger. A friend gave me some Oxy and then, wham! Before I know it, I’m hooked.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘So, what’s your story?’
Natalie was intrigued, felt a connection with the woman. Can I tell her? Should I? And before she knew what she was doing, the whole sorry tale came bursting out, like steam from a pressure cooker, until there was nothing left to say and silence filled the space between them.
‘So, your husband has been drugging you and you didn’t even know?’ Katya’s voice rises with every word.
Natalie nodded, her cheeks burning. ‘I honestly thought it was a health tonic.’
Katya frowned. ‘But you must have noticed that feeling, you know, that lovely warm feeling. All your troubles gone. Whoosh!’ She flung her arms wide.
Natalie thought about it. ‘Well, yes, I did. But I just thought it was the tonic.’
‘Fucking good tonic, eh?’ Katya laughed.
Natalie looked away, tugged her socks up her ankles, suddenly aware of her unkempt appearance; the hairs on her legs, the shapeless tracksuit, the smell of sweat. ‘Anyway, why are you in here? You’re not like the others, are you, so what’s your story?’
Katya waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, looked around the bare cell. ‘Oh, you know. The usual.’
Natalie frowned. What the hell did that mean? Something in Katya’s eyes made her decide not to ask. Another time, maybe, when she’d got to know her better. But really, what did it matter?
She winced as her stomach started its usual griping. She could time her day by it, knew when the medication was wearing off and braced herself for the chills and tremors that would surely follow. She was feeling sick now, the pains in her head reaching a crescendo. She lay her forehead on her knees again, closed her eyes, ready to sit it out for the next few hours until she got her evening pills.
‘Aw,’ Katya said as she wriggled closer. She put out a hand, stroked Natalie’s hair. ‘It’s tough, isn’t it?’ Natalie flinched, then relaxed into the rhythmic caress, found she liked it, this show of comfort, distracting her from the pains. ‘Don’t worry, it’ll get better. Another week or so and you’ll be coming out of it. All the physical shit’ll wear off. Just the mindfuck left.’ Katya sighed. ‘That takes a bit longer.’
Just the mindfuck.
But that was the worst of it, constantly agitated and anxious, tears springing from nowhere, making her body shake with the force of her sobs. Dozens of unanswerable questions queueing up to ambush her mind, making her head ache with the effort of trying to work out answers that disappeared into a fog of confusion.
She felt so weak and ill she just wanted to evaporate, become nothing.
‘Hey,’ Katya said, her voice silky and soothing. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll get through this. I’ll look after you. Stick with me and you’ll be fine.’
Her arms snaked round Natalie’s shoulders and Natalie clung to her, all her worries coming to life in her head, worries about losing Harry, her home, her life; teasing and taunting her, until it was all she could hear.
Sixteen
Now
I’ll admit I didn’t sleep well last night, my head so full of plans. But I feel like I could crush the world in my hands today. That’s how pumped up I am. Amazing stuff, adrenaline. And caffeine. Not to mention that little snort of coke, just to top it up. I’m buzzing around at ninety miles an hour, getting everything sorted.
My bag is packed with everything I might need, including a new tracking device, a little magnetic thing that I can stick under her car.
I don’t think I’ve felt this good in ages. I feel almost invincible.
There’s no escaping me now.
Seventeen
Now
Mary puts a huge plate of food in front of Natalie. ‘There you are. Set you up for the day, that will.’
Natalie’s eyes widen. Bacon and eggs, beans, sausage and toast. It smells delicious and saliva is already filling her mouth, but the thought of wading through such a massive amount of food horrifies her. Even though it’s early and nobody will be answering phones yet, she’s on edge, anxious to get out and about, trying to find Harry.
Her stomach grumbles.
How long since I had a proper meal? she wonders as she looks at her plate. It’s been snacks on the go ever since she left prison, and after the incident this morning, she knows she needs to organise her eating better. If she fills up now, then she won’t have to worry about food for the rest of the day. She looks at the clock on the mantelpiece. Ten minutes. Whatever I can eat in ten minutes, then that’s it. I’m out of here.
Mary bustles out of the dining room and comes back a minute later with a large pot of tea and a jug of milk.
‘This should keep us going for a while,’ she says as she settles herself in the chair opposite, pouring two mugs of tea. Natalie checks the clock again. Seven forty. Twenty minutes until there’s any chance of people being in offices. People who might lead her to her son. She eats faster.
‘Well, this is nice,’ Mary says, wiggling in her seat, hands wrapped round her mug. ‘A bit of time to get to know each other. So, where are you from, lovey? I don’t think you said.’
‘London.’ Natalie squirms, wonders if she should have made something up.
‘You don’t have a London accent.’
‘Well, I was born in London, but I’ve lived all over the place.’ She talks between mouthfuls of food, hardly chewing before she swallows, desperate to get breakfast done with. ‘My dad gave up teaching, then had loads of different jobs, kept getting made redundant. We couldn’t afford to live in London, so we had to move to Manchester, then Sheffield, then Leeds.’
Mary tuts. ‘That’s not easy when you’re a child, is it? Always moving schools. Leaving your friends and having to make new ones.’
The sympathy in her eyes brings a lump to Natalie’s throat. She remembers the horror she’d felt each time she was taken to a new classroom by a different head teacher and introduced to the rest of her class. The way they’d looked at her, curious and assessing, as if she was a newly discovered species of sea creature. She’d learnt that children are mean and horrible to each other, and especially horrible to new kids who have a different accent and don’t talk proper. She takes a sip of tea, shudders.
Thank goodness she’d sat next to Sasha on her first day of term and was able to stay at the same school all through her teenage years. Some things are meant to be, she thinks. Me and Sasha. Tied together by shared experiences, by defining moments, even though there have been times when their lives have gone in different directions. But isn’t that the test of a true friendship? That it can survive the times when you don’t see each other; is there to be picked up, like a dropped stitch in a piece of knitting. Part of the fabric of your life, whatever the patte
rn turns out to be.
‘Where’s your family live now then?’ Mary’s voice breaks into her thoughts and Natalie looks up to see curious eyes watching her.
She takes a last bite of toast and pushes her plate away, wondering how to explain that she’s lost her family along the path of life, when she veered off in an unforeseen direction, and none of them came with her.
‘Oh, all over the place,’ she says, as if it doesn’t matter that she’s got no idea where her father or brother live. ‘Mum lives in Lytham St Annes.’ At least I think she does.
‘Oh, nice.’ Mary nods. ‘Posh there, isn’t it?’
‘Oh yes. Definitely posh.’ She takes a gulp of tea, no desire to continue with Mary’s gentle interrogation. But her nosiness has given Natalie an idea. An idea that might help her find Harry. Her pulse quickens with new hope and she gives Mary a smile, puts her mug down.
‘I wonder if you could help me, Mary?’ She leans forwards, elbows on the table.
Mary’s eyes twinkle. ‘Of course, lovey. If I can.’
‘Well, the thing is, I wanted to visit an old friend of mine.’ Natalie laughs. ‘Actually, he was my employer. But he’s moved and I don’t know his new address.’ Mary tuts. ‘You might know his family? The Wilsons? Gordon Wilson owns a shipping company. His wife Marian does lots of charity work, always used to be in the news. Their son is called Tom.’
Mary looks at the ceiling, then at Natalie. ‘Ooh now, I can’t say they sound familiar. In shipping, you say?’ She frowns, lips pursed together as she thinks.
‘That’s right. Tom runs a company called Excalibur Wealth Management. They used to live in Douglas but when I got there I found out the house has been sold. Empty.’
Mary’s eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. ‘And they didn’t tell you?’
Natalie sits back in her chair. ‘Oh, I’ve um… been working away. We lost touch for a while, but I thought it would be nice to pop in and see them while I’m on the island.’ She looks away, finishes the rest of her tea and thinks, I’m wasting my time here.
She glances at the clock. Almost eight. ‘Gosh, Mary, I’m really sorry but I’ve got to go.’ She gives her an apologetic smile. ‘I’m meeting up with a friend. I’ll have to dash or I’ll be late and she hates being kept waiting.’ She stands and pushes her chair back in against the table. ‘Thanks for a lovely breakfast.’
‘I can do dinner, if you like.’ Mary looks hopeful, eyes big and round, like a lost kitten. ‘And… and by then I will have had a chance to talk to my friend Margaret. Her daughter does a chat show in the afternoons. On the radio. Talks to anyone and everyone. I’m sure she’ll know who you’re talking about. Might be able to point me in the right direction.’
Natalie stops, hands on the back of the chair. Do I risk it? Or is it time to move on, find somewhere else to stay. Make it harder to be traced? But she feels safe tucked away with this old lady. Nobody will think of looking for her here. And who knows, Mary might just come up trumps. Another line of attack can’t hurt, can it?
She smiles at Mary. ‘Okay, that’ll be great.’
Mary beams at her. ‘I’ll make it for six, shall I?’
‘Six will be fine, but give me your number just in case there’s a problem.’
Mary recites her number and Natalie taps it into her phone, thinking that Mary reminds her of a great aunt that she was fond of as a child. A weight settles in Natalie’s stomach and she holds back a sigh. There’s no chance she will ever be part of a family now. All that has gone. It will always be just me and Harry. Because who would want to have anything to do with her once they found out what she’d done?
Eighteen
Then
In prison, Natalie woke from a dream, anxious and alert. She could hear Harry crying and swung her legs out of bed, stopping for a moment as the world whirled around her. She closed her eyes to steady the dizziness and when she opened them again, she remembered where she was. With a groan, she slumped back on the mattress.
It wasn’t Harry crying, it was some crazed woman. Maybe a self-harmer who’d slit the flesh of her arms with broken plastic. Another one of the determined few, who attempted to kill themselves every single day and wept because they were not dead. Because they had to carry on living their hopeless lives.
Natalie’s cell was near the control room and she listened to prison officers come and go outside her door, on a constant mission of damage limitation. She heard what these women did to themselves. It wasn’t just ligatures. It was knives and razors and plastic bags over their heads. Anything could be a weapon of self-destruction, it seemed, and these people were inventive. Last night, a woman had stuffed a pair of knickers down her own throat, hoping they’d choke her to death.
Their misery hung in the air, seeped through the walls, the floor and into Natalie’s heart. What’s the point in keeping quiet? Her pain found its voice, a wail, loud and visceral, full of the desperation to be with Harry again. A sound that welled up from the depths of her soul and flowed out of her until she was spent, drained of all feelings, an empty vessel with nothing left inside, except the ache of separation.
It took her a long time to go back to sleep, and then she was disturbed several times by the soundtrack of anguish that played on a constant loop around her.
The next morning, a prison officer opened her cell and popped her head around the door. It was the same woman who’d brought her to the Therapy Wing, her face jolly and round, blonde hair tied back with a scrunchy at the base of her neck.
‘Morning, Natalie. Just thought you might like to come out for breakfast today. Start getting to know the girls.’
Natalie didn’t move. Withdrawal from the drugs made paranoia a constant companion and Katya’s words of warning made her scared to venture out of her cell.
‘Don’t be fooled,’ Katya had said, the night before, when she was giving Natalie the low-down on how to survive on the Wing. ‘They’re not nice people. It’s an act. Just remember that. You can’t trust them. Not any of them.’ Katya’s eyes were fierce, teeth clamped together as she hissed her warning. ‘Everyone wants something from you. Do you understand? Everyone. And if you don’t give it, then, believe me, they will take it.’ She smashed a fist into the palm of her hand. Natalie winced.
‘Let me tell you what has happened.’ Katya wagged a finger, nodded. ‘Then you will know for sure.’ And she proceeded to reinforce her message with example after example of the nastiness Natalie might expect to encounter. Until she started to cry and Katya stopped.
There was no reason not to believe her.
Now, Natalie looked at the prison officer and shook her head. ‘I think I’ll just stay in here.’
‘Oh, come on, they won’t bite, you know.’
That’s not what Katya said. Natalie looked away, stared at the window. ‘No thanks.’
‘Look, you need to get up and get moving. It’s not good to stay in bed all day.’ The prison officer took a couple of steps into the cell. ‘I’ll sit with you at breakfast for a bit if you like, just for today. Introduce you to some people. You’ll soon get chatting.’
The prison officer came closer, and Natalie wondered if she would be manhandled out of her cell if she didn’t go voluntarily. She let herself be led to where breakfast was being served, then to a table with a few other women.
The woman sitting opposite her was scrawny as a plucked chicken, with bad skin, rotten teeth and wild eyes. The girl next to her had scars all the way up her arms where she’d cut herself. On the next table sat a woman covered in piercings and tattoos, who looked hard and mean on a level Natalie had never come across before. She realised she was shaking, her spoon clinking against her dish.
She pushed her food away. ‘I’m sorry, I’m… I feel a bit sick. I think… I just… need to lie down.’ Heart racing, she hurried back to her cell, closing the door behind her.
How can I survive in here with these people? They spoke languages Natalie didn’t understand, used slang she
’d never heard of, making her feel like she’d landed in an alien world.
Her door opened and the prison officer came in.
‘You okay?’
Natalie nodded, eyes stinging. She sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
‘Ah, you’re not okay, are you?’
Natalie shook her head and fiddled with her hands in her lap.
‘Look, I know it can be a bit scary, but these women are not a bad bunch when you get to know them. Most of them anyway. A lot of them have never had a decent chance at life, you know. Not really their fault they’ve ended up in here when you get to know their situations.’
‘I’d rather…’ Natalie clasped her hands together, as if in prayer. ‘Can I… just stay in here?’
‘’Course you can, pet. Till lunch, then we’ll have another go. Get you acclimatised slowly. How about that?’
Natalie nodded, her body sagging with relief. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll get your meds for you, shall I? Then you won’t have to queue. Be about twenty minutes, okay?’
Natalie lay on her bed, exhausted and drained, feeling as though she’d run a marathon. She closed her eyes and waited for the day to end. Tomorrow she was seeing her solicitor. Maybe she’ll be able to tell me when I can see Harry. She clung on to the thought of being with her little boy again, and he came to life in her mind, took over her daydreams, taking her away from the nightmare of reality as she drifted into sleep.
Nineteen
Now
It’s been a promising start to the day, and Natalie runs up the stairs, fortified by a hearty breakfast and the knowledge that she now has four potential leads. She knows where Tom works, so she can wait until he leaves, and follow him home. That must be her surest route to success. Sasha has signed up as her accomplice, which will make everything so much easier, and the fact that the producer might know Tom makes for a good plan B. If both those leads draw a blank, Mary might have some information for her this evening and, as a last resort, she still has Jack’s number. Surely, at least one of these possibilities is going to come up trumps?
