Prisoner

by Ross Greenwood

  It’s another effort cycling to work. I’m tempted to cycle into the rowing lake instead of alongside it. I have an eight ’til-five shift, which means I’ll probably not be on a wing. It’s a pity, because I could do with a day sitting in the office with my forehead resting on the table.

  When I get to the gatehouse, I see I’m free flow officer in the morning and education officer in the afternoon. The first involves escorting prisoners around the prison and is a relatively cushy number. On the male side, education duty is stopping fights and preventing smoking in the toilet. Both are forlorn tasks. I expect it to be easier over here.

  Despite the fact I’m hanging, the morning passes quickly. Free flow is miles better than with the men, where it generally involves a lot of arguing. The females are less abusive and more rule-abiding. After the workers return to the wings, I help out in the med hatch as there is no GD today.

  Tara comes off her wing for some paracetamol.

  ‘Headache?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, probably a spot of nerves. Even though I’ve only been here for ten weeks, it feels strange leaving. I always think I have a big sticker on my forehead when I get out that says I’ve been in prison. I should buy a T-shirt with it on, so no one’s in any doubt.’

  ‘A lot of people will miss you. You’re almost like a mother to some of these, which is a little odd seeing as you’re one of the youngest and most definitely the smallest.’

  ‘That’s why I’ll never want any kids of my own. There’s already plenty who need a mum and haven’t got one. Will you miss me, Dalton?’

  I look down at her as she looks up at me. We have a moment of real affection. She’s so positive and full of energy, but her faith in other people has been ruined. She should have been able to count on that Lavinia woman after all that had happened to her, but instead she was just taken advantage of. I hope Tara learns to trust again.

  ‘I will. There’s something lovely about you. I give you nine out of ten.’

  ‘Why only nine?’ She beams.

  ‘Everyone lies in here, one way or another.’

  ‘I haven’t lied to you.’

  She looks genuinely upset.

  ‘You’ve served ten weeks of a twenty-week sentence. You don’t get time for prostitution, because it’s pointless. The courts know that now and will fine you and offer intervention if you are inclined to accept it. Therefore, something aggravated your case enough for you to receive a custodial sentence.’

  She clenches her fists at her sides and stares at me so hard that I’m not sure what she’s going to do. Instead of her getting angry, though, a tear bursts from each eye and they stream down her cheeks.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.’

  ‘I know, but I want to. It was a knife. The police caught me soliciting and gave me a warning, but when I spoke, they became suspicious of my posh accent, so they searched me, thinking I was selling drugs.’

  ‘I assume it was for protection, not extortion.’

  ‘Yes, it was pretty obvious what I had it for, but it’s still dangerous. If you’re angry and you can get your hands on a weapon, you’re going to use it. That’s when people die.’

  ‘That’s not a whopper, so you can be a nine and a half.’

  ‘True, but the funny thing is, I even lied about what Kitty was in for. I said she’s in for theft.’

  ‘And she isn’t?’

  ‘Well, in a way. It was street robbery. It’s a much more serious offence.’

  ‘Isn’t that the same crime Billie’s in for? Was that Lavinia like a modern-day Fagin?’

  Tara cries again, but this time through laughter. She stops herself by looking around and puffing her cheeks out.

  ‘Did Billie explain her role in her robbery?’

  ‘She said it was her partner’s idea, and she tagged along.’

  ‘Brilliant. You are a muppet, Dalton. I bet she also got you with the dry hand thing?’

  My eyes narrow.

  ‘I knew it!’ Tara laughs. ‘Billie doesn’t have a skin condition. She puts her hands in bleach, which makes them red and sore. If you men haven’t got the communal brain cell for the day, you fall for her sob story. Have a look in her cell.’

  Tara is still chuckling as she leaves the med room, but the next inmate knocks her over. It looks deliberate. Tara gets to her feet and stands up. It’s Billie’s padmate, Zelda. She only has a vest on her top half and Tex was right, her arms are scarred. That’s not unusual in here, but hers are uniform, as though they were done carefully and deliberately.

  ‘Watch where you go,’ says Zelda. She bares her teeth and drags a thumbnail across her own neck so hard it leaves a vivid red line.

  Tara doesn’t look at her, but instead turns to me.

  ‘Talk to me this afternoon because you might not get a chance before I leave tomorrow. Don’t forget.’

  Zelda ignores me, gets her meds, puts it in her mouth and walks out of the room without taking any water.

  ‘Oi, get back here!’ I shout.

  Zelda carries on walking to her wing, where Sheraton is holding the gate open to let the inmates on and off.

  ‘Sheraton, shut the gate.’

  He does, just as Zelda reaches him.

  ‘Open,’ she demands.

  Sheraton points in my direction. I catch up with her.

  ‘What’s going on, Zelda? You know you have to drink a cup of water.’

  Her eyes widen and blaze. It’s a raw, personal anger, which I haven’t experienced on this side of the prison. She forces her gaze away, turns and rattles the wing gates with fury.

  ‘Okay, that’s a warning. Do it again and you’ll go on report.’

  She clangs the gates again. There’s no point in talking to someone when they are that cross, so I’ll get her at bang up. I nod at Sheraton to allow her back on the wing. The rest of meds is without incident, so I return to Whisky wing.

  Tex and Sheraton are doing roll count, so I let myself in their office and fill out the warning form. When I open Billie’s cell, she and Zelda are on the bottom bunk. Billie’s arm is around Zelda’s shoulders; Zelda glowers at me.

  ‘Here’s your warning, Zelda. Don’t repeat what you did today.’

  ‘Come on, Dalton,’ says Billie, mischievously. ‘Screw that up. I was just telling Zelda how you’ve been looking after me.’

  My eyes are drawn to the shelf in the corner where I can see my tube of cream next to another similar, besides two bars of Dove moisturising soap. Billie follows my line of sight and sees what I’m frowning at. She winks at me as I slam the door shut.

  54

  It’s lasagne for lunch in the work canteen and I eat my bodyweight of it. I think of the small portion the prisoners receive. Afterwards, I can barely keep my eyes open in the hub. I’m tempted to have a power nap in an empty cell, but I doubt I’d wake up. My afternoon shift is so quiet in Education, I’m almost dozing on my feet. Only two teachers have classes, and one of those finishes early. The clearing of the final teacher’s throat as he makes himself a coffee wakes me up where I’ve fallen asleep, face down on a desk in the staff office.

  I recall my conversation with Tara and log onto a computer. I’ll check her record first.

  Tara Prestwick. AKA Ruined. Twenty weeks for possession of a bladed article. She could have got four years, but the judge obviously believed her claim that the knife was for protection. Sending her to jail was clearly a message to her about the seriousness of carrying a weapon. If she gets caught again for the same offence, the courts will slam her. But who’s to say Tara didn’t intend to use it for darker purposes?

  Sue Halliwell, who is the ginger-haired girl, AKA Red. Two years for aggravated burglary. Shit. That is nasty. It basically means she broke into someone’s house with a weapon of some kind. To get two years at her age would indicate it wasn’t her first similar offence.

  Kitty Monroe, AKA Broken. Two years for street robbery, which also suggests it
wasn’t her first time, either.

  Zelda Tiozzo, AKA The Witch. Eight years for conspiracy to supply class A drugs. Deportation in process. God, no wonder she’s in a foul mood. She’ll spend at least a year in one of our jails and then it’s arrivederci! Italian prisons are a far cry from luxury, unless your idea of a good time is eight to a cell and twenty-three-hour bang up.

  Laimutė Laurinavicius. AKA The Russian. Six months for threats to kill. That’s not the biggest surprise.

  Rose-Marie Nelson. I can’t access the file. It has ‘deceased’ written in the notes, which seems incredibly impersonal for someone whom I’ll never forget. Perhaps one day, I’ll write about my experiences here. Rose-Marie shouldn’t just be a statistic. Tex and I will light a candle for her.

  Billie Harding, AKA Damage. Two years for street robbery. I take a note of the date and flick back to Kitty’s conviction. It’s the same day. So, Kitty was Billie’s partner in crime.

  Mihaela Ion. Twenty weeks for pickpocketing.

  Ana-Maria Breban. Twenty weeks for pickpocketing. I read the details. Apparently, they were made to work as pickpockets by the people who brought them to the UK from Romania. That’s two more people that I’ve misjudged over here.

  Jessica Smith. The girl who sliced her own stomach. AKA Cut-up. Six months for multiple breaches of a restraining order.

  Someone knocks on the outside door for Education. I open the barred gate and then the wooden door to find Billie in the green gardening trousers Myerscough found for her. The white T-shirt still gleams, but she has a smudge of mud across her forehead.

  ‘Billie, what a nice surprise. I was just reading something about you.’

  ‘Have I been nominated for an award?’

  ‘Yes, it’s the Biggest Liar Prize. You’re the hot favourite despite considerable competition. Perhaps you could practise your speech now.’

  ‘I need the toilet, Dalton. Let me in.’

  ‘Speech first, please.’

  ‘Okay, I lied to you. I really like you and I didn’t want you thinking the worst of me.’

  ‘And the moisturising thing?’

  ‘I just wanted to see if you liked me, and you do. Now open up. I only got these trousers today.’

  I let her in and she does a strange waddling run to the toilet. The last class finishes and they shuffle out. The English tutor is huge and hairy, and resembles a grizzled rugby player rather than an academic, but he thanks me for helping and leaves out the back way. I nip to the office to fetch my bag and to sign out of the computer. The toilet door slams and Billie comes and stands in the doorway.

  ‘Better?’ I ask.

  ‘Much. My period is due tomorrow and I always get a belly ache the day before.’ She looks up and down the corridor. ‘Why’s it so quiet?’

  ‘Everyone’s gone for the day.’

  ‘Ooh.’ She steps into the room.

  ‘Billie, you aren’t supposed to be in here.’

  ‘Is there a camera?’

  ‘Not in here, but there is in the corridor, so they’ll know you were in here.’

  ‘Chill, baby. It’s not like they’ve got a guy studying one camera all day long. It’s the same in shops. They only watch the recording if they hear about an incident. One kiss, and then I’ll go.’

  ‘No. No more kisses. I could get into serious trouble.’

  ‘Come on, you bad boy. This might be our last opportunity now that my darling Italian chum is back. I know you want to.’

  I do want to. I beckon her over with my finger. There’s no chance of being discovered in the office. It hasn’t got any windows, for a start, and there are double doors at both exits to Education, so I’d hear the jangling of keys before anyone was anywhere near us. I take my time and the kiss is amazing. We connect together so neatly, it’s as though she were designed for me. She takes my hands and puts them on her breasts and I don’t remove them. She finally moves a few millimetres away from my lips. Her voice is throaty.

  ‘God, I fancy you so much.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘Did you buy me any new knickers?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘You’re mean. Look, mine are terrible. They keep falling off.’

  With that, she turns around and yanks her trousers and pants to her ankles in one swift movement. She pulls off her T-shirt, leans over the desk and arches her back.

  ‘Fuck me, Dalton. Quick. This is our only chance. You said yourself you’re returning to the other side soon.’

  There must be a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t do it, but unfortunately the strongest reason for doing it is that I want to. Her blue eyes stand out of her tanned face. They draw me in. Faced with this, I can’t resist. No man could. I briefly think of my wife’s cold email, then undo my belt. I slide inside her with no effort at all. Again, we fit perfectly.

  ‘What about, you know?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m on the pill – besides, I’m due on tomorrow, so it’s safe anyway. Just get on with it. Fuck me, sir. Do it fast and hard.’

  I pound into her and try not to be too quick, but it’s impossible. She whimpers and gasps, occasionally looking over her shoulder with her teeth bared. At the end, she turns and stares at me as I climax. Even though it was rapid, I can’t remember sex ever being so amazing.

  55

  I let Billie out from Education onto Main Street and follow her to open the door back to the houseblocks. I watch her as she walks away. She stops after a few metres and turns around. The sun is lower and the tall buildings put her bottom half in shade. She looks so flawless that my breathing catches. She tucks her hair behind her ear again. I’m sure she does it because she knows I like it. And I do, I could watch her do it all day long. She stares at the floor, coyly, glances up and catches my eye, then runs to the houseblocks. I swear under my breath and walk to the gatehouse.

  Myerscough is also leaving.

  ‘Afternoon, Dalton. Sneaking out early?’

  ‘I’m on an eight-five. No doubt you slip out early most days.’

  ‘Perk of the gardens and everyone expects people of my age to be honest.’

  ‘I’ve always said it’s the quiet ones who get up to mischief.’

  ‘I’d agree with that. Now, talking of sneaky, I’m overrun with eggs from all them damn chickens because liars keep saying they’ll buy some and don’t come to fetch them. Sound familiar?’

  ‘Okay, fair cop. I’ll drive in tomorrow and take a load home with me. How’s that? What time should I pop over?’

  ‘Are you still on the same wing as young Billie?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Wander over after eleven, then you can escort her back to the houseblocks with you. Save my old legs.’

  ‘Okay. How’s she getting on?’

  ‘Good. She’s inclined to sit around in the sun, but she gets the work done. Chickens seem to like her. I like her, too, but she’s not the innocent kid I thought she was, although none of them are.’

  ‘You’re telling me. She fed me a tale about the street robbery she was in for. Hinted it was her boyfriend’s fault, but it turns out she committed it with a female friend.’

  Myerscough freezes as he drops his keys down the chute. He swallows and his lips move, but he doesn’t talk.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes. The little snake. She told me she was in for theft.’

  ‘Well, I suppose it’s still stealing. If any chickens go missing, I’d peek under her jumper.’

  Myerscough blinks a couple of times and goes even whiter. He marches towards the scanners, puts his index finger in to open the glass panel and vanishes in a hurry. He doesn’t look back.

  I’m too tired and hungover to let his oddness concern me, so I drop my keys and radio in and check the detail for tomorrow. I’m on the wing with Billie again, or should I say Tex? I’m dreading it and looking forward to it in equal measure.

  56

  When I wake up, I feel a million times better than I did yesterday and wonder why
I keep drinking so much. Gary popped over with a four-pack last night, but I only drank coffee. We had a good chat. It made me realise that I bottle everything up without man talk to discuss and resolve my feelings. I suspect alcohol is a release, at least for a while, but I’m just hiding from thoughts that need to be said out loud.

  What was it that brought Abi and me together? We laughed about the same things. She loved the fact that I was forgiving of everyone’s mistakes. The person I was hardest on was myself. It made me recall the moment she said that she wanted to marry me because she knew I would never give up. I hate the thought of being a quitter.

  It’s also true what Gary said. When you’re a parent, your eye has to be on the children. Abi, in particular, rarely stops to consider her own needs. Her focus is on keeping the house clean, and ensuring the kids feel loved. They’re the most important thing to her. Ivan can be exhausting to look after. Is it reasonable for me to expect her to finish all that, then wait in full make-up and seductive clothing for me to get home from work? Do I return from the prison, shower, and put my best shirt on? Although, an email responding to mine wouldn’t be that much hassle. She’s probably already registered the kids at that school in Spain.

  Gary did ask me a horrible question: What are the names of your children’s friends?

  I could only remember one of Tilly’s, but I knew Abi would know them all.

  My family has only been gone a week, but it seems like so much longer. I never thought out of sight, out of mind would apply to my wife and children, but I’m struggling to think straight. It feels as if I’m single after Abi’s chilly reply, but that doesn’t excuse my behaviour. At least Zelda is back, which puts an end to any in-cell shenanigans. I’m not sure whether to tell Billie that there can be no more of whatever this is, or just to keep my distance.