Prisoner

by Ross Greenwood

‘We’re off for a walk to feed the ducks, or a trundle, if you prefer.’ She smiles. ‘Fancy coming?’

  ‘Okay.’

  We take the quick route down through the underpass and Lena gets a beer can caught around one of her tyres. Judging by the piles of litter, it looks as if we missed out on a party here, but the revellers have gone now.

  At the pond, Fats hands me the deckchair and pushes the wheelchair over the grass. He then lifts Lena out as though she’s a child and carries her to the water’s edge. I think he’s going to lob her in for a moment, until I realise the deckchair is for her. Fats and I sit on the bank next to her in companionable silence.

  ‘The kids and I like it here. Look, they’ve still got ten chicks,’ I say.

  ‘It’s ducklings if they’re ducks,’ says Lena.

  ‘Would it be wrong to picture Chinese food right now?’ asks Fats.

  ‘Very,’ Lena and I reply in unison.

  ‘It’s a lot more peaceful without the kids.’

  ‘Is it weird having children?’ asks Fats.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know, always putting their needs before your own, doing something for them when you’d rather be doing something else. I’ve never considered having any. I want to travel all around America. They’re the only people in the world who understand my portion sizes!’

  Fats and I chuckle until Lena comments.

  ‘I’d like one in the future.’

  I can’t help another frown, which she sees. She barks out a laugh.

  ‘Oh my, I thought you were weird the other day. Now I realise what it is. Do you know something, you men have the tiniest of brains?’

  ‘What did I do?’ asks Fats.

  ‘Dalton thinks we’re a couple.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, because you didn’t tell him any different.’

  ‘Ah, I guessed he wasn’t happy about me liking Braddock’s sister.’

  ‘I dread to imagine what happens in that prison with you two eggheads running the show.’

  I look from one to the other. Brother and sister. How could I not have realised? A little giggle pops out, which sets Fats off. Soon, we’re all laughing so hard that Lena nearly unbalances her deckchair.

  We stay for an hour and it feels good. I sense I have something important growing with them both, as well as with Gary, that I didn’t have before. I know having friends will help when Abi gets back. Even so, it’s strange to not have realised they are related, especially when they’re so similar. My radar has been off concerning many things lately. Back home, I go to bed early but still don’t sleep. My thoughts return to Billie, not my wife and children. What kind of man am I?

  62

  I crawl from under my duvet at 6 a.m. for a drink of water. There will be no sleep until I reply to that email. The watery eyes, dark circles, and sagging face of the man in the mirror is unrecognisable. Luckily, I’ve only got an afternoon shift today, so I return to bed. I eventually get up at eleven. I spend half an hour deliberating about what to say, eventually emailing her back saying I’ll be waiting at the airport and I can’t wait to see them all. I sign it with all my love, feeling treacherous as I hit send.

  The weather is mild with a warm breeze, but I drive to work. I’ll definitely miss the convenience of having the car to myself when my family return.

  At the gatehouse, I check the detail and can’t believe it. They’ve still got me with the YOs. I stand in line waiting for my keys and radio, knowing that I have the same hangdog expression that I used to have when I was on the male side. Peabody and Sheraton are behind me. I remember when I saw them laughing in the queue before, when they must have been new. After only a few weeks in the role, their haunted faces now match mine.

  When I open the door to the houseblock, Billie and Red are on the other side of it. They shouldn’t be out of their cells at lunchtime and it’s too early for them to have any kind of visit. Billie’s been crying.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘We’re being transferred to Styal,’ says Red. ‘It’s bullshit. My new trainers were supposed to come this week. After three fucking months. There’s no way I’ll get them now.’

  The big SO from Reception, Odom, comes up behind them.

  ‘Come on, ladies. Your chariot awaits.’

  Billie’s eyes meet mine for a second and she starts crying again. I hold the metal gate open for them. Billie puts her hand on my arm as she walks past and then she’s gone.

  I have mixed emotions in the hub. There’s sadness obviously, but also a lorry load of relief. Nasima ignores the detail and sticks me with the lifers. The atmosphere on the lifer wing is different. The crackle of energy and instability that dominated the YO landings has been replaced by an air of sorrow. I recognise two of the women from the news.

  Some prisoners are sentenced to six months and break down with the knowledge that they will miss their kid’s next sports day. But it must be a whole lot different if you’re found guilty of killing someone and know you’re going to miss the whole of your children’s lives. Most of these inmates are mothers. If there’s no family to take their children and the kids are young enough, they’ll be adopted. Otherwise, they get fostered. Knowing you are responsible for that must be a desperate thought to take with you to bed each night. It’s a testament to the human spirit that people can endure it. Most find a way to survive, as long as they know that, one day, they’ll be free. It helps to be with other women in the same position.

  I’m letting an inmate off the wing for a healthcare appointment when Zelda comes to the gate with a mop in her hand.

  ‘Guv, open cleaning cupboard.’

  ‘What do you want to go in there for?’

  ‘I take Tara’s hub job.’

  ‘Yeah, okay.’

  The cleaning cupboard is actually a room the size of a small windowless bedroom in the corner of the houseblock where the mops, buckets and heavy electric floor polishers are kept. I unlock the door and flick on the light. When I turn, Zelda has twisted the mop, so it’s diagonally across her chest. She growls and shoves it at my chest. It’s so unexpected that I lose my balance and fall backwards, ending up sitting in one of the big buckets. Then I remember Tara’s warning.

  Zelda’s weapon seems to be the red handle of a screwdriver. It’s only when she presses a switch and the metal piece shoots out that I see my predicament. My face is at her waist height and the point is near my eyes. The end of the screwdriver has been sharpened, so it glints even in the false light. The corners of her mouth come up in a grin, and she pulls her arm back.

  A shadow appears behind her and Zelda strains. Then her chest juts out as her arm is pulled behind and twisted upwards.

  ‘I’ll have that,’ says Kitty.

  She wrests the weapon from Zelda’s hand with brute force. Zelda tries to push past her, but Kitty has her up against the door with her hand around her throat. Zelda strains for a moment, then her eyes widen in terror as she realises that Kitty is too strong. I scramble out of the bucket to my feet and edge past them, desperate to get out of the room. At the door, Kitty holds my stare.

  ’Give me a minute, then come back and lock it,’ she says.

  She shoves Zelda further into the room and the door gently closes behind them. I don’t know what to do. The toilets are opposite, so I let myself in and splash water on my face. Kitty could be murdering Zelda in there, but, Christ, I could have been killed in there too. I leave the toilets and see Zelda limping back to her wing, looking as if she’s fallen down a flight of stairs. I check in the cleaning room, but it’s empty. Kitty has gone and so has the screwdriver.

  63

  June

  I’m at Arrivals in Luton airport with a dry mouth. Their flight landed an hour ago. My mind wanders to the prison even though I’m nervous. The rest of the week has gone by in a blur. The lifer wing is just what I needed. It’s deathly quiet on most days. The prisoners are pretty decent and completely the opposite of the murderers on
the male side. Over there, the prisoners have often killed for little; money usually, or just because they were angry at a real, or even a perceived, slight.

  Nearly all the women inmates have killed their husband or boyfriend. They may well regret the crime because of the impact it’s had on their lives and therefore their children’s lives, but mostly they couldn’t take any more and so the crime was inevitable. I don’t probe too deeply, but, more often than not, there seems to have been years of abuse prior to the act itself and some would argue their actions were completely justified.

  I’ve never really considered the fact that decades of abuse can cause women to snap and kill their husbands. The more I chat to them, the more I understand that it’s not just the violence. They were also kept without money or friends, because their partners controlled every part of their lives. The children were often caught in the middle, and this fact was often what kept them in a different kind of prison.

  Like Rose-Marie’s, these women’s choices were terrible, but in their cases the fault was not their own, until they finally lashed out. Killing can never be the answer though. With dad dead and mum in jail, it’s hard to argue the children will be in a better place.

  A bloke next to me at the gate looks equally nervous, but he has flowers. Great, I never thought of that. I contemplate nipping into Marks & Spencer, but I see Abi as the doors open and people flood out. I’m near the back of the waiting throng, but I’m taller than everyone in front of me.

  Abi looks refreshed and tanned. She has a white dress on and a simple gold chain around her neck. Her hair is up the way I prefer it and I get an unexpected rush of affection and attraction for my wife. It feels strange to say so, but I like it. Tilly sees me first and points me out to Ivan. They both start running and burrow through the small crowd to get to me.

  The overriding emotion I felt at both their births was relief. There was none of that instant connection that I’d read about in Abi’s books. Perhaps that was because I hadn’t carried them. All I did was fire the starting pistol. But I feel it now. It’s a tidal wave and overwhelming. My children hang onto me and I kneel to stop myself falling over. I kiss the tops of their heads, smell their hair, their necks. It takes them thirty seconds to loosen their grip. I could stay like this for hours.

  I have a sharp stab of guilt for what I’ve been doing and thinking since they’ve been gone, but I push it away. Abi stands three metres from us, looking awkward. I stand up and open my arms. She comes over and joins our group hug. She feels the same, smells the same. We connect like we used to. My family is back.

  64

  It’s been nearly a week since Abi came home. I’ve worked long shifts every day, but I’ve got an early today. Surprisingly, there are fewer ACCT books on the lifers’ wing. The inmates seem to have switched themselves off to feel less. Each day is the same and therefore nothing to get up or down about. Many have triggers though, such as their child’s birthday or even their wedding anniversary, where we are extra vigilant.

  Most of the women are in their mid-thirties or older. They support each other, which makes my role easier. Without the violence of the men, or the drama from the kids on the YO wing, time drags a little. The only excitement I had this morning was hearing two of them in the shower together. I coughed outside, hoping that it would shock them, but one of the cheeky cows popped her head out and asked if I wanted to join them. I instantly thought of Billie and left them to it.

  I’m back cycling to work again, but before I go home at lunchtime, I stroll over to the male side to see Colt. It’s hard to remember Wyatt now. Braddock told me he’s at court tomorrow. I pop my head into the male hub to tell them I’m going to have a chat with Colt, but it’s Fats on lunch cover, so I take a seat.

  ‘The wanderer returns,’ he says. ‘Are you here to see the demon?’

  ‘God, are you calling him that now?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s got toothache. It’s made him worse.’

  ‘Can’t he get Gronkowski to knock it out?’

  Fats laughs. ‘You’ll never believe this, but him and Colt are friendly now. They run the servery. Don’t have no grief, ever, with them two giving out the food. It’s a shame that he’s going.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back to mess everything up for you.’

  I leave him chuckling and go to Colt’s wing. When I reach his cell, I tap my keys and open the panel. I realise I don’t do that on the female side. There, I usually knock and wait for a few seconds. Colt is pacing up and down like a tiger in a tiny cage. I find myself slowly opening the door.

  ‘Bruv,’ he gasps. ‘You got to get me into the dentist. I’m dying here.’

  ‘You don’t want to visit the guy here. He’ll only whip the tooth out. You’ll be gone tomorrow, get it sorted then.’

  His face screws up. He gingerly rests his hand on his chin and plonks down onto a chair.

  ‘Did you bring me any goodbye cake?’ he asks.

  ‘Yeah, but Fats just ate it.’

  He attempts a grin, but grimaces instead.

  ‘Hang on,’ I say.

  I leave the cell, lock the door, and stride to the staff room. Lennox drinks peppermint tea. I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to help toothache. I grab three tea bags and a blue plastic prison mug and make a brew. When I return to Colt, I hand it to him.

  ‘Did you piss in this mug?’

  ‘Idiot, it’s peppermint tea, which soothes toothache.’

  ‘Yeah? Nice one. I owe you. Anything, man, say it. You sorted me out in here.’

  I nod, not imagining ever needing his help. When I get back to my bike afterwards, I realise I’m nibbling my nails, which is something I haven’t done since I was a child. Maggie has agreed to pick the kids up from school today. Abi is going to the supermarket this morning, buying some wine, then cooking a meal for the two of us. I’m a bag of nerves for my afternoon date.

  When I arrive at home, Abi opens the door in the same white dress she bought in Spain, which I admired, and she has her hair up like when we got married and has drop earrings and high sandals on. She looks stunning. Chanel No. 5, her favourite scent, wafts over me as she approaches. Abi gives me a slow kiss, then passes me a glass of wine, which I down in one when her back is turned.

  I feel rather underdressed in my uniform, so nip up the stairs to our bedroom. My wardrobe contains very few decent clothes and I’m still in my boxers, looking for a nice shirt, when Abi arrives at the door.

  ‘There’s probably not much point in putting anything on just for me to take it off.’

  She sounds confident, but she doesn’t look it. She undoes her dress at the back and it falls to the floor, revealing matching bra and pants in a very similar design to the ones I considered buying Billie. I smile reassuringly at her because I know she’s self-conscious about the loose skin on her tummy after having children.

  Making love to Abi is so unlike what I did with Billie that it could be a different act. I know Abi so well from all the years together that it’s easy to please her. However, after so long without any close contact between us, we have an attack of the giggles when she’s on top so Abi rolls off and turns over. She has tan lines where she’s been sunbathing. Her white boobs, and her white bottom, which is still firm from running, jiggle provocatively as she kneels in front of me.

  As I pick up the speed, a nasty thought materialises in my brain. Billie. When I had sex with her in Myerscough’s office, she was as brown as a berry, but she didn’t have tan lines on her top half, only her bottom. How can she have been sunbathing topless?

  I begin to lose rigidity. Removing the thought from my mind is near impossible. It takes ages before I finally finish, by which time I’m sweating like a racehorse and Abi is howling like a wolf.

  Afterwards, as she lies in my arms, she strokes my chest and tells me how wonderful it was. I am an absolute bastard.

  65

  Four weeks later

  Colt went to court that Friday, and the judge sentenced the wh
ole gang to eighteen weeks’ imprisonment. That meant, with time served, he only had five more weeks to do, so I had to stay on the female side as they decided it wasn’t worth moving them. Without Billie in the prison though, it wasn’t a big deal. I have a week left now. I’ve got the hang of things over here, even though there are still some horrifying sights. One woman on my wing had been cutting her arms and inserting paper clips into the wound. Another ligatured herself with a bra, but managed to press the emergency button before she passed out.

  Since Colt had more time to serve, I checked and found out the dentist’s waiting list was six weeks. I had a word and got Colt put to the front of the queue. It seems my corruption has no end. My home life is much better. Abi runs three or four times a week, even if it’s just for a quick one. I help out more, even if I’m tired.

  Red returned to HMP Peterborough for her dad’s funeral. She said she barely knew him but fancied a day out and the chance to see her sisters. I laughed my head off when she got brought back before the wake. These YOs pretend to be street smart, but they have no idea how the world works. I suppose most children haven’t.

  They shipped Red back to HMP Styal a few days later. I couldn’t help asking her how Billie was getting on.

  ‘Shit, man. Damage runs the show.’

  I can believe it. Billie pops into my head from time to time. I daren’t go out to the gardens, because I’m struggling enough to not keep recalling that moment. It’s Billie I’m thinking of when the houseblock gates clang open behind me and I see her. I wonder for a moment if I created an apparition, but it’s definitely her.

  My stomach lurches. Whether through shock or happiness, I’m not sure. She walks past, only giving me a brief, disinterested glance.

  When she leaves for meds later, she returns via my wing and shouts my name through the gates.