Prisoner Read online

It’s media bullshit that food quality is rubbish. After all, the little possums have human rights. That said, gravy is very popular from the canteen as virtually anything tastes good covered or dipped in that. Salt intake is low down the list of health risks here.

  A door opens on my right. A young girl with a mousey, shoulder-length bob takes a step out of her cell and yawns loudly, arms raised. She has a white vest top on and a pair of baggy jeans. She’s curvy for a prisoner, but light on her feet as she steps to the middle of the wing.

  ‘Now!’ she bellows, causing her voice to echo around the walls. She stretches out her arms, eyes challenging the other inmates.

  ‘Who’s ready for some fucking damage?’

  21

  The other girls quieten. The late arrival walks straight to the front of the queue.

  ‘Yo, Rose-Marie. Chicken and chips,’ she says.

  ‘Piss off, Damage. You’re on no choice.’

  ‘I want chicken and chips.’

  ‘I want to screw Prince Harry. Looks like nobody gets what they want.’

  I detect the tension change in the air. At least that’s the same on both sides of the prison, but the girl with the mousey hair is agile. She leaps up and sits on the counter. Reaching past Rose-Marie’s head, Damage yanks her ponytail down, pulling Rose-Marie’s face towards the food.

  ‘Enough!’ I roar.

  On the male side, that would grab their attention, but you’d still have to get in the middle to separate them. Here, everyone freezes. You could hear an ant fart. A girl in the queue whimpers and the people behind her shuffle back while staring at the growing puddle between her legs. Damage releases Rose-Marie’s head. They both turn to me. Rose-Marie retreats to the rear of the servery. There is total silence except for the sounds made by two women who were coming down the stairs and who are now swiftly returning to their cells.

  Tex comes out of the office with a confused look.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she asks.

  ‘This lady pulled Rose-Marie’s hair,’ I say, sounding like a grass.

  Tex stands next to the troublemaker.

  ‘Billie?’ says Tex. ‘Explain yourself.’

  Billie says nothing. I realise she’s the only one who is still relaxed on the entire wing. She has a slight smile on her lips.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asks me.

  ‘I’m asking the questions, Billie. What’s going on?’ says Tex.

  Billie’s eyes narrow. She turns to Tex.

  ‘Just getting my lunch.’

  Tex looks over her shoulder at me for a reply.

  ‘She jumped the queue, and it seems as though she forgot to make her lunch choices,’ I say.

  ‘Back of the queue, Billie,’ says Tex.

  Billie leans closer to her.

  ‘Keep your crappy food.’

  She leans back, spins on her heels and gives me a raised eyebrow. She pushes her hair behind her ear in a way that is so out of kilter with the environment and atmosphere we are immersed in that I can’t help staring after her as she walks to her cell and bangs the door shut.

  Tex delivers trays of food to the cells of the girls who vanished and the one who pissed herself when I hollered. I’m not entirely sure what’s happened. Tex says she’ll explain later. The rest of lunch finishes without incident and we lock up for roll count. It takes ten minutes for us to update all the ACCT books. As we walk towards the hub to hand in the figures, I ask Tex the obvious question.

  ‘Who the hell was that?’

  ‘Be very careful with her. She’s jailbait.’

  I frown. ‘I thought jailbait was to do with underage women?’

  She looks me in the eye. ‘That was Billie. This is jail. She will bait you.’

  22

  The rest of the shift is uneventful. The girls ask for the pool balls, but they don’t play with the same passion and bravado as the men do on the male side. They are polite to each other and don’t seem to mind that much who wins. Nobody throws a ball at anybody else. No one hits anyone around the back of their head with their cue or pretends it’s a spear. And, as far as I can tell, the players’ cells aren’t burgled while they’re distracted, either.

  Tex and I spend most of the afternoon drinking tea and reading my paper in the office. When the roll clears, we walk to the gatehouse together. Physically, I feel good. Sometimes I dread the cycle home after a long day. Mentally, though, I’m a little bruised. Tex picks up on it.

  ‘You did well today,’ she says.

  ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘That’s why.’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t get it.’

  She laughs. I realise she does that a lot.

  ‘Look at the size of you. There isn’t a female inmate who could take you one on one in a fight, even two on one. Not only that, you’ve worked on the male estate for five hard years. I often see officers come over from that side and throw their weight around. Throw women around. But you haven’t when you could have done.’

  I’m still not sure what she’s talking about.

  ‘Listen, Dalton. When you shouted “enough” earlier, that roar went straight through me and I wasn’t anywhere near you. I guess you learn to bellow in that way when eighty cons are causing havoc and the wing is twice as long. But most of these women are victims. I don’t see the females on our wings as prisoners. They are mostly exploited girls who’ve done silly things. Nearly every single one of them has been abused, or raped, or hit, by bigger men.’

  ‘Men like me.’

  ‘Yes, big, angry, shouting men. Then you stopped. They all know what happens when the shouting stops. Most of them were petrified.’

  ‘Should I not roar that loud?’

  ‘Of course you should. They had to be stopped, and no one got hurt. There was no anger in your voice, only control. They learned a lesson today, that not all men are violent when they shout. You earned their trust. Word spreads rapidly around a female prison. But be aware. If you carry on like this, some of them will quickly rely on you for emotional support and a feeling of safety. Most of them never had a father worth shit, but they all needed one. Most of them still want one.’

  ‘I struggle with my own kids. I’m not sure I can cope with another twenty.’

  ‘You made me laugh when you called Tara Ms Prestwick. Do you call the male prisoners Mr?’

  ‘Yes. It shows respect but also keeps them at arm’s length.’

  ‘Trust me, you’ll be calling the females by their first names before long. You may see them as victims, but I try to view them as survivors as well. You will also come to like them most of the time, warts and all.’

  ‘Like family?’

  We’ve reached the exit and we both throw our keys and radios down the chute. There’s a rush of officers trying to leave, and Tex and I get pushed apart. She waits for me outside.

  ‘Just like family,’ she says. ‘That’s the job on the female side. You are more parent than jailer, and sometimes that can be harder, because children let you down.’

  ‘Okay, it was weird though. I sensed that I shouldn’t touch them because it wasn’t necessary, but I wasn’t sure exactly what else to do.’

  ‘It’s just the same as the male side in that respect. Send the naughty ones back to their cells. If they don’t go, you’ll have to handle them.’

  She grins and trudges off. She must live within walking distance. I stand and watch her as she walks away. I have always liked her, but I’ve never really thought of her as being a great prison officer, or, for that matter, a mother.

  A meaty whack on my shoulder nearly lays me out on the pavement.

  ‘Spent the day reading the paper?’ asks Fats.

  It’s good to see him. ‘More or less. You?’

  ‘Nah, been busy today. We were behind on piss tests, so I’ve spent all day doing them. I need a shower.’

  ‘You cycling?’ I ask.

  ‘Walking. I had a flat tyre last night and was too tired to fix it.’

  ‘You
walked all the way to work this morning?’

  ‘That’s right, sir.’

  I’ve never looked too hard at my fellow officers. I’ve got enough of my own problems. But I’m changing. I take the time to study Fats closely. His shoulders are rounded and his face is drawn. I should think a five-mile walk home is the last thing he wants. I think of him as robust and healthy, a real life force, but he’s not. He’s on the edge and close to breaking. I catch the odd eye, and nod at other officers from both sides as they walk past us and home. Many of them are the same.

  ‘How’s Colt getting on?’

  Fats chuckles. ‘Guns blazing.’ Fats shakes his head. ‘Wow, he is quite something. He was upsetting everyone on the induction landings, so they brought him over to ours to stop him messing around. My buddy, Taufel, was off sorting queries, so I was on the wing on my own. I watched Scranton wander over to Colt and give him the word. You know, tell him the way things worked on there. Explained that it was him, Scranton, who ran the wing.’

  ‘Yeah, what did Colt say to that?’

  ‘It was mental. Colt was expecting it. He thumped Scranton bang on the nose. Hard. I’ve never seen a wing go quiet like that. It was as if God paused time. Scranton looked around in disbelief.’

  Fats laughs so hard, he has to lean over. He's still chuckling as he rights himself.

  ‘Scranton couldn’t believe it. Your boy didn’t give him any other choice. Scranton laid into him frantic. He gave him everything he had. You could hear the blows landing, but Colt took them all, and then he sent some back.’

  ‘I didn’t hear your personal alarm over the radio.’

  ‘I didn’t press it. It was nothing. I just pushed them apart. But there was a scary part to it.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘They were fighting at the top of the landing. I wasn’t even that far away, but it took me a while to get there. People kept getting in my way on the stairs. It was only after I’d locked them both in their cells that I realised the ones who kept blocking me were all Colt’s little gang.’

  ‘They got stuck in too?’

  ‘No, that’s the thing. They did it on purpose to slow me up. Colt planned it. He wanted to fight Scranton and didn’t care if he lost, but he didn’t want to get killed by him. They knew I’d split them up eventually, but they needed the fight to go on for a while to show the wing what they were about. That is some fucked-up shit. They’re just a bunch of kids.’

  One of the last officers to leave is Braddock, who walks behind Fats.

  ‘Hey, Braddock,’ I shout over to him. ‘Haven’t you just moved to Hampton?’

  ‘Yeah, want to come around and help me paint?’

  ‘Definitely, let me finish mine first and I’ll be in touch. But Fats here is walking home because he got a puncture. You drive past our street on the way to your new place, so can you give him a lift?’

  Braddock looks Fats up and down. ‘Yeah, okay, but he better not give my car a puncture.’

  It’s only as I’m cycling along the rowing lake that I realise that when Fats referred to my brother-in-law, he didn’t say Wyatt. He called him Colt, and I did too.

  23

  When I reach home, I open the back door and find the children watching cartoons.

  ‘Evening, urchins.’

  All I receive is half a wave from Tilly. I slump on the sofa, but I’m not especially tired. It’s warm and breezy outside and it seems a shame to stay indoors. At the commercial break, the kids come and sit either side of me.

  ‘I like it when you get home early,’ says Tilly.

  ‘Where’s your mum?’

  ‘In bed. She’s been there all day.’

  ‘Is she ill?’

  ‘No, she’s sleepy,’ says Ivan.

  ‘Haven’t you had any food?’

  This time Tilly answers.

  ‘Dur! She woke up to make us sandwiches and drinks. She played with the washing machine as well.’

  ‘Did you save me any sandwiches?’

  ‘Nuh uh,’ he replies.

  ‘Who wants to feed the ducks?’

  Neither of them answer. They just run to the door and pull their shoes on. Ivan gets cross with his, but we’re soon on the move. I stroll in the middle holding hands with my son. The quick route is under the road, through an underpass, but it’s a mugger’s paradise. Even the sun doesn’t go down there, but Ivan doesn’t like to walk too far, so I risk it.

  We see nobody at all on the way. The pond is next to a field in the nice bit of Orton Malborne called Stonebridge. Recently, someone hung a swing on the big horse chestnut tree, but it was soon pinched. The ducks race over when they spot us. It said in the paper today that you shouldn’t feed them bread, so I’ve brought a container of porridge oats and most of it blows back in our faces. Ivan copies the ducks’ argumentative quacking. The ducklings are so used to humans, they clamber out to peck at the food. Mummy and Daddy duck watch nervously from a half-sunken log.

  Going home, the kids want an ice cream. They aren’t cheap from the shop, so I buy them an orange lolly and tell them to share it. They don’t complain.

  When we get back home, I make them beans on toast, followed by vanilla ice cream from the tub in the freezer. Afterwards we watch TV but nothing catches our attention. I nip upstairs to the toilet and find their pyjamas are laid out on their beds. The kids follow me up. Ivan’s tired and asks to go to bed, so I help them brush their teeth. Tilly says she’ll read for a bit.

  ‘Night, Daddy.’

  She gives me a knowing smile, as if she understands I need time alone, or perhaps time to speak to Mummy. I tiptoe into our room. Abi’s turned and facing the wall. The kids’ rooms are tidy, but ours is a dumping ground. The curtain at the window has come away from the rail. I half fix it and look outside. There’s no hiding that the houses are run-down here. Someone’s dumped an old brown plastic-looking armchair in one of the parking spaces today, or maybe I just didn’t notice it before.

  I turn around and listen to Abi as she snuffles in her sleep. This won’t have been what she wanted or expected. Her parents are pretty well off. They retired soon after our wedding and when Wyatt turned sixteen and left home without a backward glance, they moved to Spain to play golf. I can’t remember much about our special day, seven years ago now, but I’ll never forget what I overheard her father say when he didn’t know that I was standing behind him.

  24

  Our wedding

  The waitress at the Marriott Hotel takes our dessert plates and cutlery away.

  ‘Any more drinks?’ she asks.

  ‘No, thanks,’ Abi’s father slurs. ‘Just the bill, please.’

  I smile at him, and he nods back.

  Our wedding reception has been a quiet affair. My best man, Martin, is steaming, and he’s got the chief bridesmaid, the only bridesmaid, drunk, too. I can see him rubbing her leg under the table. My mum has spent most of the day crying. I think Abi feels the same way, but for different reasons. Wyatt turned up for the ceremony, then said he was going out with his mates. No one thought to challenge him.

  I wasn’t overly keen on getting married, to be honest. Perhaps it’s the thought of being tied down I don’t like, but that’s stupid, because life has me tied down anyway, and I’m not unhappy. Abi cuddles the reason why we’re here: baby Tilly. Abi looks pleased to have something to focus on, apart from our depressing wedding.

  I made Abi agree to a small celebration, even though her dad said he’d pay. I couldn’t be doing with the aggravation. The only guests today are the two drunks, Abi’s parents and my mum. I didn’t even tell my other mates any of the details, just that we were keeping to a tight budget.

  I’ve let them slip away. Martin told me that Woods is a research engineer for an airline in Dubai being paid big bucks and Belly has been designing a shopping centre in Australia. I’m not jealous of their success and am genuinely pleased for them. It’s myself I’m disappointed in. I was the one with plans and dreams. It was me who would e
scape Peterborough. Instead I’ve lived here all my life, rarely leaving even for holidays, and now work for little more than minimum wage as an administrator in a job that might lead nowhere. I wouldn’t have been able to look my friends in the eye.

  I also realised, at the register office, I had stolen Abi’s dream of a magical day, and it was too late to do anything about it. So now we’re all just going through the motions. I couldn’t even taste my food.

  ‘Let’s go,’ says Abi. ‘Tilly needs a nap.’

  It’s obvious she can’t wait to get out of here. The waitress returns with a silver platter, which she hands to Abi’s dad. My mum picks up the uncut wedding cake, while Abi and I kiss everyone goodbye. Her dad can’t even be bothered to make a joke about me taking Abi off his hands. My mum says she’ll drive us home. The best man and bridesmaid say they’re nipping off to have another drink in town. I wish I were going with them. When we reach where we parked, Abi realises Tilly’s dropped her little doggy.

  I return to the small function room that her dad hired and I’m about to push the door open when I hear him talking on the other side of it.

  ‘My God, what a disaster.’

  ‘Shh, Michael.’

  ‘What? They’ve gone.’

  ‘It was nice. Abi looked lovely.’

  ‘It was a joke. We have one daughter and I get to hand her over to that loser in a dimly lit room at the register office. I rue the day she met that lad.’

  ‘They’re happy and in love.’

  ‘She doesn’t look happy and in love.’

  ‘Well, they’ve got a kid now. No one’s happy when they’re exhausted.’

  She titters a laugh, but he just growls.

  ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Let’s go home and forget today ever happened.’

  ‘Stop it, Michael. I like him. You’ve pushed one of our children away already, let’s not repeat our mistakes. He is trying hard to make a good life for them.’

  ‘Well, he needs to try harder.’