Prisoner

by Ross Greenwood

  ‘Thank you for your patience, Ms Burford. Please follow Officer Dalton, we’ll have you sorted in no time.’

  I walk over to the induction wing gates and open them. Sheraton is working the landing and I find him in the office.

  ‘Hi, Sheraton. Give this lady a penthouse suite.’

  Sheraton looks at the whiteboard behind him.

  ‘Can you stick her in twenty-three for me, mate? I’ve had to nick someone for smoking.’

  ‘Okay, follow me, Ms.’

  I glance down at the front of the file to see her name. Lavinia Burford. While I walk up the stairs, I ponder how many Lavinias I have met in my life. Was Burford the surname that Tara mentioned when she told me her story? This woman is the right age as well. I resist the temptation to look inside the file for her index offence. The reality of what’s happening to her has hit home as we walk along the line of grey metal doors. She stares at each one in horror.

  ‘Do you have any possessions with you, Lavinia?’

  ‘No, I came straight here.’

  All she’s clutching is the prison toiletries pack and some sweets that they give you on arrival. Her clothes make her resemble a headmistress from the sixties. Straight from court in non-court clothes can mean only one thing. She’s been picked up, charged, and the magistrates have declined bail. They tend only to do that for serious cases, or ones where women or children may be at risk.

  I open the door of twenty-three. She stands in the entrance as if she’s in a cowboy film checking whether she’ll take the room.

  ‘It’s disgusting in there. Show me another.’

  It’s been a long day.

  ‘Madam, there are two ways that you can enter the cell. The best way is to walk in.’

  She holds my glare for a few moments, then strides in and turns around to face me with her chin raised.

  ‘I can’t stand to be here.’

  I step into the doorway. It’s a foul cell with a strong smell of faeces. I’m tempted to slam the door shut on her, but my professionalism, the little I have left, resurfaces. She is still a human being.

  ‘Lavinia, it’s bang up in twenty minutes. Just get your head down. You’ll have induction in the morning, and all will be explained to you then. I’ll tell the officer that you want to clean the cell in the morning. Doing that will make it all feel a bit more normal. Are you going to be okay?’

  She turns her nose up again but keeps her gaze a foot above me.

  ‘I suppose I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I’ll leave a message for the night staff that you’re new to this sort of thing.’

  She nods, while blinking repeatedly.

  I close the door and return to Sheraton.

  ‘She seems lovely,’ I say to him. I fill in his obs book: one on. ‘I’ll put her in the movement log.’

  ‘Cheers, Dalton. Mental day, huh?’

  ‘Aren’t they all?’

  I open Lavinia’s file as I leave the office.

  Lavinia Burford. Offence: rape of a child under thirteen. I walk away shaking my head with my slow footsteps echoing miserably around the quiet wing. Kitty is outside the gates, not even pretending to mop. Her eyes are blazing and her top lip has curled back into a snarl. The woman who should have looked after them, but didn’t, is here for justice. I fear that Kitty will take it upon herself to dispense it.

  72

  The next morning when I wake up, bright sunlight streams through the window. The usual bird chorus is absent. I stretch and yawn, but I’m not tired. Missing all that sleep must have finally caught up with me. The children aren’t at school today due to a teacher-training day, and I can hear them laughing and giggling with the odd shout through the ceiling. I’m sweaty after a warm night, so I nip into the shower and put it on cool. Thirty seconds is enough and Abi will have her hot water.

  When I wander downstairs, the kids squeal happy birthday at me. With all the drama, I’d forgotten.

  ‘We thought you were never going to get up,’ says Abi.

  She comes over and gives me a big kiss full of real affection. Ivan walks over like he’s handling a bomb and solemnly presents me with a parcel. I take my gift to the kitchen table where my breakfast has been laid out. Hmm, I haven’t eaten Coco Pops since I was about ten, but birthdays are always a good time for change.

  I open Ivan’s present. He’s drawn me a picture, which Abi has framed. There are two big people in front of a house; one who resembles the elephant man, and the other in a dress who is as wide as she is tall, and two little kids holding hands, who look like penguins. I think of Zelda and feel my eyes well up. Ivan has kept just out of reach though, so I blow him a kiss.

  Tilly stands next to him, takes one of Ivan’s hands, and passes me her present. She’s drawn us all on the beach on a towel. On close inspection, I can see she has drawn me and her next to each other and we’re holding hands. Tears pour down my face.

  As it’s my birthday, Abi insists I have the car to go to work. She says that’s my present, but then she lifts up a carrier bag, which contains five neatly wrapped gifts. They’re little things: a box of Maltesers, a bell for my bike to replace the one that Ivan broke, a new leather belt, a joke book about middle-aged men entitled Has Your Man Turned into Mr Grumpy? She also hands over a portrait of me.

  Abi went to art college after school, but struggled to find work in that area. When we met, she’d already given up on that particular dream, but she’s found the time to do something special for my birthday. It’s a picture of me looking straight ahead. My face fills the whole page. It’s impressive and the detailed lines and shading must have taken many hours.

  ‘I had plenty of free time in Spain.’

  ‘It’s fantastic.’

  ‘I know.’ She giggles. ‘I used the photos on my phone to copy from, but I loved doing it. These last few years, I’ve really forgotten who I am. I basically gave up on everything, but I’m no quitter.’

  I said almost the same words while she was away. She pulls me into a strong hug. She didn’t quit on us in the end, and this is her way of trying to make things work. But I hate the picture. My eyes are dark and shrouded, but instead of the mystery Abi deduces, I see guilt.

  I drive to Argos on the Maskew Avenue Retail Park. There’s a big sign out the front saying spend over fifty pounds and get 20 per cent off. I walk in and flick through a catalogue. The best bit about my birthday is that it’s five days before my wife’s, so I never forget her date.

  Billie’s locket necklace is forty-five pounds. On the same page is a spinning ring that catches my eye. It’s silver and brass, classy, and only twenty pounds, which means it’s practically half price with the discount, but I can’t help feeling terrible buying Abi a lesser present than my blackmailer. By the time I’ve paid and they’ve fetched the jewellery, I’m nearly late. I race to the prison and park up, then sprint towards the gatehouse. When I push open the door and approach the scanners, there are two men and a woman from Security waiting for me.

  73

  MacStravick, who is Oscar One, is also there, and he steps towards me.

  ‘Come through the scanner, please.’

  I feel like dropping my rucksack and sprinting away, but I don’t have anything on me, or do I? Heat rises in my cheeks.

  ‘Pass me your bag. Follow me.’

  I hand it over, then follow them along the corridor. The changing room has the SO from Security in it. Peabody is in there having a pat-down search. Opposite is the chill-out room, which they have also commandeered. There’s another security guy waiting, wearing blue plastic gloves. MacStravick passes him my bag, which he opens and slowly begins to remove everything.

  ‘Ready for a search, Mr Dalton?’

  MacStravick examines my face, while one of the other officers gives me an extremely thorough rubdown search.

  ‘What’s this for?’ I ask.

  ‘Just a random check,’ says MacStravick, with a little shrug.

  The way Security works is they build a
picture from all of their sources of intel: phone calls, overheard chats, incoming and outgoing mail that they read, CCTV footage, and obviously from the inmates who grass people up. Some information won’t be true and will be the result of sour grapes, jealousy, or even deflection. But if Security have reached the point where they’re searching me, then I’ve figured repeatedly in their intelligence gathering.

  ‘What are these?’ asks the bag searcher.

  ‘Presents. It’s my wife’s birthday in five days.’

  The man looks to MacStravick, whose eyes have narrowed. He takes hold of the two sealed packages and opens one. It’s the ring. He checks under the soft packaging before handing both items back to the searcher. He smiles at me, but I feel uneasy.

  ‘Come up to the office with us. We’d like a little chat,’ he says.

  I follow him and the security SO up the stairs, through the admin block, straight into the HR manager’s office. Mrs Kelly is expecting us there. She’s a pleasant, warm woman, but she isn’t smiling. There are three seats facing one other around a table.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Dalton. Please sit.’

  'What is this?’ I ask, as I take the chair which is clearly for me.

  ‘This isn’t a formal interview, more a fact-finding mission. I’ll be taking notes for my benefit, but there won’t be a record of the meeting. If at any point this becomes more than a chat, I will explain the procedure. Do you understand and are you happy to continue?’

  She interviewed me when I applied for the job. She was a lot jollier on that occasion. My collar is shrinking by the second. If I say I’m unhappy, or want the union in here, I might as well admit to my guilt.

  ‘Is there anything you’d like to tell us?’ she asks.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Your wing.’

  ‘Not really. It’s quiet and a bit boring. I’ll be pleased to return to the men.’

  ‘You find the young offenders boring?’

  ‘I’m on the lifers’ wing now.’

  I resist a smile as the wind leaves her sails. The security SO’s face reddens.

  ‘What can you tell me about Billie Harding?’

  ‘Not much. She’s quite volatile. Typical YO.’

  ‘Do you get on with her? Do you like her?’

  ‘Billie has her moments and can be funny at times, but she’s a little damaged.’

  I watch her pause, then look at MacStravick. Something unsaid passes between them. He takes over.

  ‘What is your opinion of Officer Peabody?’

  Ah ha. Does this mean they don’t have anything concrete on me?

  ‘He has his moments, and he can be funny at times.’

  All three of them stare hard at me. I stare back. MacStravick stands.

  ‘You may go. Thanks for your patience.’

  I manage not to blow out a long breath. Instead, I rise, grab my bag, leave the room, and return to the gatehouse toilets. I sit on one of the seats for ten minutes trying to centre myself, before getting my keys and radio. As I stroll over to the houseblocks, I accidentally break my earpiece ramming it into the radio. When it’s not plugged in, everyone else can hear the radio chatter from Comms, but I can’t be arsed to go back as I’m late already. I press talk and hold the radio to my mouth.

  ‘QP, this is Officer Dalton taking call sign Yankee Seven.’

  ‘Officer Dalton, Yankee Seven confirmed, please acknowledge First Response, over.’

  ‘Confirming First Response.’

  When I reach the houseblocks, all the prisoners are queueing at the wing gates for work. Nasima beckons me towards the hub.

  ‘Take a seat, Dalton. Tex can do movement to work.’

  I sit next to her, with my heart racing.

  ‘There’s something going on around here, and I don’t like it. You got noticed on the male side for all the right reasons, but here it’s the opposite. You’re too close to some of the prisoners. Your lines have become blurred. Tell me what’s happening.’

  ‘Nothing. I’m out of here tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll never be back.’

  ‘And why’s that?’

  I pause, realising I have my foot millimetres from a tripwire.

  ‘Prison doesn’t make much sense on either side. It’s inhumane to lock people up all day and night for so long without hope, especially if you give them nothing to do but watch TV. But at least on the male side I understood the punishment aspect of it. The men knowingly did wrong in most cases and deserve to pay the price. It doesn’t feel as clear-cut as that over here. Most of the prisoners on this side are crying out for help, but will never get any.’

  Nasima stares out of the window of the hub, then presses the talk button on her radio speaker.

  ‘Commence mass movement to work.’

  Suspicious eyes return to me.

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t have been allowed in the jail today if they’d found anything, so let’s make your last few days quiet ones.’

  I nod and stride to the door. Before I can escape, she sneaks a jab in.

  ‘Dalton, Peabody has resigned. I’d have prosecuted him, but they’ve let him go.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Is it a surprise, though?’

  ‘Nothing surprises me about this place.’

  ‘They’re watching you, too.’

  I’m unsure how to respond to that, so I just leave. Other than doing the daily cell checks, I spend the rest of the day sitting in the office. Tex knows something’s up and leaves me to it. She works hard doing everything that needs doing while I stare at the wall.

  It’s late afternoon when I hear the gate being rattled. I look out of the office and see Billie waving at me through the bars. Tex is upstairs, so I nip over to Billie.

  ‘Look, you need to get away from here,’ I snap at her.

  ‘Where’s my locket?’

  ‘I have it, but I can’t give you it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘They searched me on the way in.’

  ‘Well, hand it over if you’ve still got it. They won’t be searching you on the way out.’

  She’s got a point.

  ‘There’s another thing,’ she says. ‘I need another two hundred pounds.’

  ‘What the hell for? I paid you.’

  ‘I’ve worked out how much I need for when I get out, but someone’s let me down.’

  ‘No, I don’t have it.’

  ‘I know, but you will on payday.’

  ‘Why will I?’

  ‘I’ve got eyes. I can see who’s always here on overtime, but I have a gift for you too.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t have Hepatitis or AIDS, or whatever the fuck they call it. Your wife will be pleased, or do you use condoms with her?’

  I flinch at the risk I took. Billie presses on.

  ‘You met me months before you thought you did. I remember you in Reception the night I came in. You looked at the red marks on my arm like I was scum. I was one of the two who you called junkies when Kitty was kicking off in Reception.’

  I close my eyes as I picture the wretched girls who they brought in with Kitty. They looked so worthless that I never gave them another thought. Now look where we are. One of them is blackmailing me at work. Not in a million years could I have imagined the situation I’m in now. Has she used me to take revenge?

  ‘You know nothing about me, Dalton.’

  ‘I know you’re damaged. Go on, piss off.’

  ‘No, you had yours, and now I want mine. You have to pay. They’ll chuck me out of here with sixty quid. How am I going to get a cot, or baby clothes, or everything else with that?’

  ‘The council will help you.’

  ‘Screw the council, you’ll help me. The need to provide for my baby will mean I don’t give a shit about your future.’

  Billie snarls the words, but she’s started talking louder. I look behind and see Tex walking towards me.

  I glance across at the hub and spot Nasima watching
us.

  ‘I haven’t got enough to give you,’ I whisper to Billie.

  ‘Compared to me, you have plenty. You have a house, a car, a bike, furniture, and probably a big fucking TV. I don’t even have a place to stay.’

  My radio crackles. We both look down at it.

  ‘Personal alarm. Personal alarm. Officer Thrapston. Last known location female education department. First Response, please attend. This is a code red.’

  Billie and I stare at each other. Education is where they do induction for the new arrivals. Lavinia will be there, and so will Tara.

  ‘Shit, Tara, oh, God!’ says Billie, stepping away from me with her hand to her mouth.

  I unlock the wing gate and yank it open.

  ‘Go, Dalton. I have the gate,’ says Tex, who’s now reached us.

  I sprint to the houseblock exit, passing a confused-looking Kitty, arriving at the door at the same time as Sheraton. I open the houseblock door and he unlocks the gate behind it. Nasima runs out of the hub and shouts to us.

  ‘Go, I’ve got them.’

  We run to Main Street, through the doors, pound up the steps, and unlock the door to the education department. I hear shouting and crying coming from inside. A throng of milling prisoners with anguished faces are on the other side. When we open the gate, a surge of female bodies presses towards us. There’s no stopping them. They shove past us, over twenty of them, and stream onto Main Street. The last one to go is Tara. For the first time since I’ve known her, she doesn’t look at me.

  ‘Leave them,’ I shout to Sheraton. ‘They’ll be stuck on Main Street. The cameras will pick them up.’

  I grab my radio and press talk.

  ‘QP, Officer Dalton, First Response at location. Prisoners have left Education and are in Main Street. Put a freeze on. Send an officer out from Healthcare or the gym. Do not allow the inmates to leave. I repeat, do not open the doors back to the houseblocks and do not let industries release any of their workers.’

  We stride along the corridor, checking left and right in the rooms for evidence of what’s happened. Thrapston is standing outside the toilets surrounded by vomit on the floor. I’m not sure if it’s hers or someone else’s. She points to the toilet door. Her mouth moves, but her words are mumbled. I push the door open. There are three cubicles. All of their doors are shut. I can smell blood in the air amongst the foul stench of human waste. The first two cubicles are empty.