Prisoner

by Ross Greenwood

  In the afternoon, I do the same. I bump into Tara in the hub area while I’m pretending to be busy.

  ‘Is loitering a crime?’ she asks.

  ‘Not since the eighties.’

  Billie returns at that point. Her redness has gone a little brown. I see her noticing Tara and me even though we’re nearly fifty metres away. You can tell by the way she tilts her head that she’s not happy.

  ‘Was that dirty look for me or you?’ asks Tara.

  ‘You, I hope. She told me how she ended up in the children’s home and how Lavinia’s personal service progressed.’

  ‘Did she, now? Did she explain why it stopped?’

  ‘No, she said Lavinia left.’

  ‘I suppose that’s true. The real reason is that I hit puberty late. Lavinia’s actually what some call a hebephile. That’s another one for you to look up. When she touched me down there, I was like, what the fuck? I told Kitty and Billie, and she’d been doing it to them for years. I guess the reasons why they didn’t say anything are complicated.’

  ‘Did the police believe you?’

  ‘That’s the thing. We didn’t tell them. Billie and Kitty had more than enough experience of the police to think they wouldn’t be bothered. Billie said let’s just tell her if she stops doing it and gives us loads of stuff, we won’t tell the police. Kitty and me were too scared, but Billie doesn’t mind a bit of aggravation.’

  ‘Ah, so she blackmailed her.’

  ‘Correct! Lavinia stopped interfering with us and we had nice dinners and pocket money. She even took us to the beach for the day, which was pretty weird. Talk about elephant in the room, or car, in our case. I’m not sure that Billie or Kitty had been to the seaside before, so they tolerated the stilted silence. Anyway, a month later, Lavinia abruptly leaves. She tells us she’s been diagnosed with terminal cancer. That’s God watching, that is. Then that pleasant couple took over.’

  ‘You never told anyone what happened?’

  ‘No one believes orphans. Don’t you watch films?’

  I study her face for a moment.

  ‘What?’ she says.

  ‘Lavinia didn’t have cancer. You were blackmailing her. Blackmail never stops. It makes life unbearable. I bet she put up with it for a month, so she could find somewhere else to live and get everything sorted, then said she was dying.’

  Tara’s face falls.

  ‘Oh, yeah. God, I was so pleased that she was going to croak it that I didn’t even think about that.’

  ‘And if you failed to report it, then what’s stopping her getting another position in a children’s home?’

  Tara blanches and looks as if she’s about to be sick. I pat her on the back.

  ‘Maybe I’m just being cynical and she is dead.’

  Tara shakes her head, looking unconvinced. She walks away staring hard at the floor. I return to the wing and decide to check a few of the usual hiding places for illicit items before the workers return. First off, I check the servery, but it’s spotless. Then I go to the laundry room and check the pipes. I shake the vent hose and something rattles in it. Someone’s made a split in it and hidden what looks like a biro inside.

  I put on my gloves and gently pull it out. It is a pen, but the end has been melted. Razor blades have been attached to it, so it looks a bit like a fletched arrow. It’s a brutal weapon, which could ruin a face with a couple of angry swipes. I check the landings when I step outside to see if anyone is looking on, but the wing is empty, even of the cleaners.

  I show it to Sheraton in the office. He passes me the security form to fill in from the filing cabinet but doesn’t say anything. Our jobs have just become more dangerous.

  Dinner on the wing goes smoothy, although Rose-Marie doesn’t leave her cell when I shout her name. I take it to her and find her lying on her bed sobbing. Tex would know what to do. A hug would probably help, but it feels as though I would be stepping over a boundary.

  ‘Here’s your dinner, Rose-Marie. You need to eat.’

  ‘I don’t want it,’ she cries out.

  I’m not sure what to do with it.

  ‘I’ll put it on the side here. It’s a no-choice roll and a bag of cheese and onion.’

  She doesn’t reply, so I creep back out of the cell. Billie is standing next to me when I return to the landing.

  ‘Do you have anything for this?’

  She waves a dry red hand at me.

  ‘Ouch, what did you touch?’

  ‘It’s not much. My hands go dry every now and again. I only need a bit of moisturising cream, but the nurse won’t give it to me without a prescription. By the time I get a doctor’s appointment, they’re back to normal, but I have a week of soreness.’

  ‘Tex sometimes leaves a bottle of hand stuff in the office. I’ll see if I can find it and give you a squirt at bang up.’

  Billie raises an eyebrow at me and the corner of her mouth edges up.

  I laugh, lock her in, and return to the office. But Tex must take her cream home each night. Sheraton has locked everyone else away, so I hand him the clipboard and I open each door and shout out how many bodies are in each cell. When I get to Billie’s cell and crack the door, she’s sitting stark naked on the bed. I try to keep my eyes on her face.

  ‘Sorry, there wasn’t any cream.’

  She smiles.

  ‘That’s okay. Thanks for trying, sir.’

  I close the door as my blood reaches boiling point.

  45

  I’m spaced out as I leave the prison and barely register seeing Fats getting in Braddock’s car again. I reach home the quickest I’ve ever done, then pace the house with nervous energy. I try to watch a film, but eventually have to pleasure myself so I can concentrate on it. When the doorbell goes, my first thought is it’s the police, even though I haven’t done anything. It feels as though temptation is written on my face. I look out of our bedroom window and run downstairs.

  ‘Gary, good to see you,’ I say with a big smile.

  ‘All fixed, mate. If you’d had it serviced, they’d have noticed the seals were going. Looks like one gave up the ghost in your parking space. Lucky, because if you were driving, your engine might have seized.’

  ‘That’s brilliant. How much do I owe you?’

  ‘My treat. I guess you haven’t got loads of cash either, with not getting your car serviced. I gave the whole vehicle the once-over afterwards. It’ll run smoother and start easier now.’

  ‘You’re right but you know how it is. We missed the service one year to save money because we don’t do many miles, then the next year we were skint. I suspect you’d think it’s a false economy.’

  He nods. ‘It’s funny. I’ve always thought you were rude, but you’re all right.’

  ‘You’re too kind.’

  We both laugh.

  ‘I better go,’ he says.

  ‘Sure. Hey, do you want a beer?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a cider.’

  ‘Great. Come over in about thirty minutes, because I have neither at the moment. I’ll go to the shops in my fancy new motor. Then we can sit in the garden, have a couple, and laugh at all the potheads living nearby who pretend they smoke it for medicinal purposes.’

  ‘It’s for my back!’

  He limps off, so I jump in the car and drive to the Spar. My wages aren’t in yet, but I’ve seen my pay slip. There is a big chunk of overtime on it that I wasn’t expecting, so I’m feeling flush. I grab four cans of Red Stripe lager, a four-pack of Strongbow, and a multipack of Walkers variety crisps. I pick up a 100g bar of Dairy Milk, which is on offer. As an afterthought, I walk down the pharmacy aisle and find a basic tube of moisturising hand cream. It’s two pounds. I can say it’s mine if anyone asks.

  46

  I wake up the next morning with a fuzzy four-can head. The alarm clock gets snoozed twice until I’m pushing it for time. Then I remember the car’s fixed. I shower, dress, then trot outside. I can’t help smiling when the car roars into life. Even though t
he exhaust sounds throaty, it’s a real joy to arrive at work not dripping in sweat.

  Gary and I had a really good chat last night. He’s great company, but he’s trapped in the house most days because he can’t walk far. No wonder I rarely see him. Sounds as if his wife works hard to pay all the bills. Luckily, they only had one kid, and he’s currently backpacking around Peru. Spawny git, Gary and I said in unison after he mentioned it.

  After the third beer loosened our tongues, we had a good moan about married life. As we chatted through things, it became obvious that our wives might irritate us, but they are doing their best, and perhaps we ought to mention that we appreciate them more often. Gary reckons Abi will come back, but I’m not so sure. I’ll take Nasima’s advice and send Abi an email when she’s been gone a week though.

  I almost told him about Billie, but didn’t. It would have been helpful for someone to tell me to steer clear. Colt should be due at court this week. I’m going to check with him to see if he has a confirmed date. Once he’s left, I’ll be straight back to the male side and away from temptation.

  I arrive at work and typically the first prisoner to come out of her cell is Billie. She’s wearing a white T-shirt and baggy jeans for the gardens today. She must be one of those people who tan easily, because she looks so brown, she could be Mediterranean. With her blue eyes, it’s hard to tear my gaze away. She gives me a brief wave over breakfast but doesn’t come near me and heads off to work quietly. With the rest of the workers gone and quite a few off the wing at court, we have a peaceful morning.

  I find myself flicking through the observation book. It’s way more detailed than on the male side. I can see where Peabody has struggled to control the wing. There are verbal and written warnings for many of the youngsters. He wrote that Billie Harding is a nightmare on one of the days. Sheraton’s comments are more clinical. I wonder if they looked at this book after Sandringham did what he did. Sandringham’s scrawlings are almost unreadable. His only note one day is ‘STUPID!’ It looks as though he was struggling for a while, but lots of men act like The Great Pretender. They present as chilled and in control, but beneath the surface, they are in turmoil.

  At eleven, Nasima comes over from the hub and walks onto the landing, which is weird as she would usually ring. She scowls when she sees my feet up on the office desk, but doesn’t mention it.

  ‘Dalton, we need one of you two to go on an escort to the hospital. You’ve got a low roll, so one officer should be able to manage the wing until lunch.’

  ‘Sorry, ma’am, I’m only on an early.’

  ‘Ah, shit. I was hoping you would do it.’

  I frown. ‘Why, what is it?’

  ‘It’s a hospital appointment.’

  ‘And?’

  Nasima looks behind her to see if anyone else is in listening distance. When she turns back, her face is pained. It’s not like her to struggle for words.

  ‘The hospital visit is for Rose-Marie.’

  ‘The pregnant girl? Why?’

  ‘It’s for an abortion,’ she whispers.

  ‘What? You’ve got to be kidding. She’s twenty weeks or something.’

  I glance down the wing at Rose-Marie’s closed door. Now I understand all the tears, both hers and Tex’s. I recall Tex’s own history.

  ‘It’s her choice,’ says Nasima quietly.

  ‘But why? She said herself the pregnancy is going well. In a couple of months, she could give birth and just get the baby adopted if she doesn’t want it.’

  ‘Dalton, these things happen over here. It’s hard to wrap your head around, but think of who Rose-Marie is.’

  ‘Being a fucking drug addict does not mean she can kill a baby.’

  Nasima gives me a sad smile.

  ‘Technically, it’s a foetus. Rose-Marie’s out in a week. She knows what her life is like. The moment she gets out, she’ll use again. She’s said that herself. She can’t keep it, because on the out she’s too chaotic. If she has it, she has to carry it to term, then the trauma of giving birth, holding it, then she’ll have to give it up. She says she doesn’t think she can go through that again. If she’s on drugs, she’ll be drinking, and she’ll probably damage the baby anyway. At the minimum it will be born an addict.’

  I hold my head in my hands.

  ‘This is medieval. There must be another way.’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Do you know Tex’s history? You can’t make her go.’

  ‘Can’t make me go where?’

  Tex has come up behind Nasima. She looks at Nasima, then to me, then back to Nasima.

  ‘Is it today?’ she asks Nasima.

  ‘Yes, it’s all booked in. I’m looking for someone else to go on the escort with Flynn. The woman from MBU who was supposed to be going has this flu bug that’s floating around. The rest of the staff have an average age of about twenty. We need a mature person who can handle the emotions of it.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ says Tex.

  ‘No, I’ll go,’ I say.

  ‘Dalton, you finish at lunchtime,’ she replies.

  ‘I’ll stay on.’

  Tex reaches over the table and holds my hand.

  ‘I want to go. I’ve been with her the last few weeks, talking to her, trying to understand her. I’ve been there myself. Only I can relate to what she’s going through.’

  And that seems to settle it. Nasima nods and leaves the wing. Tex walks back to Rose-Marie’s cell. A minute later, she and Rose-Marie walk out together. Rose-Marie has a carrier bag with her things in and holds the fluffy rabbit I see on her pillow when I check her cell. Her jaw is trembling, and she avoids my glare. I can’t breathe.

  Braddock comes on the wing to help me do roll count. He knows where Tex has gone and shrugs when I ask him what he thinks. He says it’s prison life. I understand that you have to separate yourself from the brutal reality of it all, but how can you when it comes down to killing, what I think of at least, a child? How can she do this when she felt the baby moving?

  Everyone’s quiet in the hub at roll count and I feel part of me has broken. It’s hard to drag my mind away from the horror of what’s going to occur in a few hours. I don’t know how they abort after nearly five months, and I don’t want to. Braddock is stone-faced. A couple of the younger female officers have red eyes and wet faces.

  The hub phone rings. Nasima picks it up.

  ‘Houseblock One.’

  She listens for a moment.

  ‘No problem. The officers are still here. I’ll get Dalton to let her know.’

  She puts the phone back in the cradle and looks up at me.

  ‘That was Myerscough. The girl who does the chickens in the afternoon has quit because someone told her she has bird flu. Can you tell Billie Harding to go to the gardens again this afternoon?’

  ‘Okay, I’ll tell her now. My bag’s still in the office.’

  I walk down the wing, trying desperately not to look at Rose-Marie’s cell door. To think I thought it was easy over here. I was wrong. The girls get to you. They’re mostly likeable, good people, fun even. That they can still laugh after the terrible things that have been done to them is testament to their spirit.

  My radio comes to life.

  ‘The roll is clear on the female side. Female side only.’

  There are no cheers today from the hub. I grab my rucksack from the office and wave to the officers as they trudge to the gatehouse. It’s only then I recall the moisturising cream. Fuck the rules, Billie can have it. Life’s too short.

  I tap my keys on Billie’s door and open it. She’s sitting on the bed with a photo in her hand. The curtains are only open a touch and a thin strip of sunlight lights up her face as she looks up, giving her an otherworldly glow. Her expression is unguarded and I’m reminded of how young she is. Too young to be surrounded by this place’s miserable hopelessness, and too young to be locked away.

  ‘Hey, Dalton. I don’t remember ringing for room service.’

  ‘C
heeky. What’s the photo?’

  ‘It’s me, Tara and Kitty in the garden at the children’s home. I was just thinking how serious we look.’

  She passes the picture to me and she’s right. That’s what abuse does. It hollows out the soul.

  ‘I’m sorry, Billie.’

  She gives me a quizzical look. ‘What for?’

  ‘Life being unfair.’

  ‘That’s okay. I can take it. I’m going to be a success, you see. I don’t quite understand why, but I know it somehow. Is that crazy?’

  I smile at her and shake my head.

  ‘Here, I got you this. Don’t squirt it in anyone’s eye.’

  She stands and takes it from me, then spends a few seconds looking at it.

  ‘That’s very sweet,’ she whispers.

  I nod and look away.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asks. ‘You seem down.’

  ‘Kind of. This Rose-Marie business is pretty awful to think about.’

  She takes another step towards me. I can feel the air crackling.

  ‘For some of us, this is the safest place to be pregnant.’

  ‘It shouldn’t be like that.’

  She pushes the door shut behind me. ‘Come here, I’ll give you a hug.’

  But we don’t hug. We kiss, and, just for a moment, all my problems disappear.

  47

  Time seems to stand still as our kisses harden and our hands roam, but the wing gates clanging has me jolting out of her arms. Wide-eyed, we stare at each other. I wipe my mouth and back out of the cell with my breathing still deep and my heart pounding. I step outside and stare down the landing. It’s just the little guy who delivers the prisoners’ recorded post, which is usually cheques or postal orders from family. He comes on the wings when everyone is locked away, but he needs an officer to open the cell doors for him. He looks hopefully up at me, but I shake my head.