Day Four continued. Day Five
"So," said Rose a while later: "How're you feeling?"
"Blitzed," I said. "Completely and utterly knocked out. And sore."
"Understandable," said Rose. "But you did yourself proud in there."
"Did I?" I asked. "I thought I made too much fuss."
"Chloe: I've seen girls kicking and screaming and crying their eyes out during their initiation. And for a long time afterwards. You did brilliantly. And the women respect you for it."
"Well – that's good to know," I said.
"And you dealt with Megan. I didn't see much of you afterwards, what were you up to?"
I told Rose about Wilson.
"She's a nasty piece of work," said Rose. "A racist and a bully. In fact she's in here for racist crimes. She usually picks on foreigners: but anyone weak or vulnerable will do. She's got a small group of hangers-on, but hardly anyone likes her. Best steer clear of her."
"She doesn't seem to like Megan much," I said, and told Rose what she'd said.
"They can't stand each other," said Rose. "Did you notice Wilson's missing front tooth?"
"I can't say I did," I said, trying to recall that tight-lipped, unpleasant smile.
"Megan did that," said Rose. "They had a fight. Only it wasn't much of a fight, because Wilson likes to pretend she's hard whereas Megan is genuinely hard. Still, Wilson's jealous, because she'd like to be top dog: and one day Megan called her bluff. I think it came to a head over one of the Indian girls: Wilson had been bullying her, she went to Megan to complain."
"I'll keep well away," I said.
Mention of an Indian girl brought to mind Prana: but something held me back from mentioning her to Rose. When I thought about this, later that night, I realised I felt ever so slightly guilty – as though in some way I had betrayed Rose. I knew this was silly: I'd learned very quickly that in prison everyone took their sexual pleasure whenever they could with whoever they could: Rose herself had told me, without a hint of jealousy, that everybody would want a piece of me. It was the fact that I'd enjoyed it that worried me, and made me feel the special pleasure I'd taken with Rose was no longer unique. So it wasn't until the following morning, when I'd realised that I was being over-sensitive, and that Rose would find out anyway, that I spilled the beans.
"I almost forgot to tell you," I said, shortly after breakfast: "I earned four squares of chocolate yesterday."
"You did what?" said Rose, who had her hand between her legs as usual. "That's amazing – I wonder you had the time. Did Megan give you some then?"
"No, not Megan – somebody else."
"Who?" asked Rose – so intrigued by now her hand had stopped moving.
"Prana," I said.
"Prana?" asked Rose: she took her hand away altogether and turned towards me.
"Little Indian girl, about my age," I said, "very pretty."
"Yes," said Rose. "I know who Prana is. But unless there are two identical Pranas I very much doubt she gave you four squares of chocolate. Are you absolutely sure about this?"
"Certain," I said. "I was surprised myself: I thought she'd try and beat me down."
"Chloe:" said Rose: and suddenly she was sitting up on her bed looking very serious: "there's something not right about this. Other people pay Prana for sex. She does not pay for sex. And definitely not four squares. People don't even pay Prana four squares."
"But she did," I said, almost doubting my own judgement. "She told me she liked me and she wanted to have sex with me. I mean, I am young and – well, you told me yourself that everybody would want me."
"Chloe: I want you to think very carefully and tell me exactly what happened."
"Well, Prana came up to me – after I'd been in the shower – and she told me I had nice breasts, and I told her she had nice breasts, and then she said she'd like to have sex with me and would I like to have sex with her, and I thought a bit, as I didn't really, but Wilson had just been bullying me and – "
"Never mind Wilson – what exactly did you and Prana say?"
"So I said yes. Then I thought of what you'd said to me, and I said 'Four squares of chocolate?' And she looked at me a bit oddly and said 'Yes Four Squares." So we – we had sex."
"And who brought who off?"
"We brought each other off," I said, starting to feel a bit embarrassed. First she brought me off with her hand, then I sucked her off. Then she said 'Thank you Chloe, that was a nice surprise'".
"And that's it? What about the chocolate?"
"When she left me she said 'See you with the chocolate in the Exercise Yard'."
"Chloe you fool! You utter fool. Oh you stupid, stupid –"
"What have I done?" I cried. I had never seen Rose angry like this.
"What have you done? Chloe: Prana didn't pay you four squares of chocolate: you paid her!"
"What?" I said.
"How could you be such a little fool?"
"But that's crazy," I said. "That doesn't make sense."
"Didn't it ever occur to you as strange that the prettiest girl in the whole prison should offer to pay you four squares of chocolate? Well didn't it?"
"It was a surprise, but then I didn't think –"
"You have to think, Chloe. In here you have to have your wits about you all the time. Didn't I tell you that if you were lucky you might get half a square?"
"But she was so nice," I said. "She came on to me: she wanted it more than I did."
"You are so naïve it's not true," said Rose. "Of course she came on to you. Of course she flattered you. That's part of her technique. What do you expect her to do: say 'I think you stink, but do you want to have sex with me anyway?'"
I thought back over the whole incident: I just couldn't square what had happened with Rose's version. Prana had liked me. Even if I had inadvertently offered to pay her, I was sure she had liked me."
"She liked me," I said defensively.
"Well maybe she did," said Rose. The two things aren't mutually exclusive. Maybe she did think you had lovely breasts: that still doesn't alter the fact that you owe her four squares of chocolate."
"I'll explain," I said. "She was sweet – she'll understand."
"Sweet?" Rose almost screamed. "This is prison Chloe, nobody's sweet here. You're not discussing Henry the Eight with a bunch of Undergraduates: everybody in this place is screwed, Chloe. Some of them may be eighty percent decent or even ninety per cent decent: but somewhere they've all got a screw loose. That's why they're here. They've done something wrong: seriously wrong. They've stabbed somebody or robbed somebody or set fire to something. Sweet? I'll tell you how sweet Prana is: do you know what she did before she came here?"
"No," I said apprehensively.
"I'll tell you," said Rose. "She worked in a massage parlour: she had a row with one of the other girls, something about stealing a client: and she gouged out one of this girl's eyes.
"So what do you think she'll do to you when you turn up in the Exercise Yard and tell her you don't have any chocolate because you thought she was paying you? Well?"
"Oh God," I said. "Oh God Rose: what have I done?"
I started to shake: first my shoulders shook; then my hands and jaw shook; then my head and then my whole body were shaking. Rose was still staring at me in disbelief. Then she put her hand to her chin.
"You are in shit up to here," she said.
"Rose," I said, "please don't be angry, please, I don't know what to do."
"Neither do I," said Rose.
"Oh God, Rose: when is Exercise?"
"Tomorrow afternoon," said Rose. "So you've got just over twenty-four hours to get your hands on some chocolate."
For a while Rose would not speak to me. I lay on my bed shaking. Then I kicked my legs up and down on the bed in frustration, over and over and over. Then I cried.
Then the door opened and Clark and Bradley came in with lunch.
"What's up with misery guts," said Clark.
"She had a hard time in the showers yesterday," said Rose.
"Hard time?" snorted Clark. "I thought she had it easy. She needs to toughen up."
"You're all heart Officer Clark," said Rose. "I don't suppose you've got any chocolate going spare?"
"In your dreams," said Clark.
"You want chocolate you lick my arse," said Bradley.
"Why didn't you tell me about this yesterday?" asked Rose when they'd gone.
"I don't know," I sobbed.
"It would have given us more time. Now eat your lunch before it gets cold."
Since lunch was a cold cheese sandwich this was Rose's attempt at a joke, but I was too miserable to respond. I was also too miserable to eat, and though I sipped half-heartedly at the tea I ignored the food.
"Chloe: eat," said Rose.
"I can't," I said.
"Chloe: no-one can think straight on an empty stomach: I'm not going to talk this through with you until you've eaten."
So I ate a joyless lunch.
"Alright," said Rose. "I've stopped being angry. Now pull yourself together."
"I'll try," I said.
"The good thing is," said Rose, "you told me. If you hadn't, and you'd gone to Exercise tomorrow – well, we'd best not think about that."
"Supposing I explained to Prana," I said, "and asked for more time? Offered to pay in instalments. Offered her double or something?"
"And how are you going to explain the mistake without insulting her?"
"I could say I thought I had chocolate but I didn't. Or that somebody took it."
"Chloe: you're a very bad liar, and in any case that is the most transparent lie you could tell. Don't go there: you'll make a bad situation worse."
"Rose: if I confronted her: if I told her I'd made a mistake, and refused to let her bully me if she got angry – would you – be with me?"
"As back up you mean?" asked Rose.
"I suppose so," I said – though even as I was saying this I was shaking with terror at the prospect, and knew there was not the slightest chance of carrying it through.
"Chloe: you'd have about as much chance as a laboratory rabbit against a polecat. And just suppose you got a million to one break – let's say she slipped and knocked herself out – who do you think would back her up?"
"I don't know – one of the other Indian girls I suppose."
"Megan," said Rose.
"Megan?"
"That's right," said Rose. "Prana was the girl who went to Megan after Wilson threatened her."
"I'm dead," I said. "Rose: what on earth am I going to do?"
"You've got to get hold of some chocolate," said Rose: "by whatever means it takes."
"What if I was sick?" I asked. "Could I get out of Exercise?"
"If anybody believed you, you'd be taken to the prison doctor," said Rose. "She'd stick a thermometer up your arse and if it read less than a hundred you'd be told to stop malingering. Forget it: cleverer people than you have tried it and failed."
"Well, supposing I went to Megan," I said: "and explained, and asked her?"
"If you ask Megan for chocolate for services rendered you'd better write your Will first."
"I don't mean that – I mean as a loan."
"It's a possibility," said Rose. "She does make loans. But I don't recommend it: you'd be in hock to her for the rest of your term – and in ways you can't predict."
"Rose, I'll suck her off every Showers if that's what it takes," I exclaimed.
"Would you move into her cell?"
"What? No of course not! Surely they wouldn't allow it? You told me prisoners rarely got moved."
"Megan has a lot of pull – even with the Wardens. You look in her cell you'll see things you won't see anywhere else: paper, books, playing cards. I'll tell you about it sometime. Moving in might be her condition for a loan."
"For four lousy squares of chocolate?"
"Four squares of chocolate that might just save your life."
"I couldn't do it," I said.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," said Rose. "Because you won't just be sucking her off every shower day, you'll be locked up with her at her beck and call every day and night. And if you do something to annoy her you'll find yourself upside down with your head in the slops."
Instinctively I put my hands to my face.
"No," said Rose. "Megan is a very last resort. Besides, you won't see her until Exercise and by then it may be too late. And that applies to all the other prisoners. No: your best hope is one of the Wardens. And your best hope amongst them is Raymond. She might, she just might, help. It's a huge ask, and you'll be in her debt for a long time: but that's better than being in hock to Megan."
"I'll do anything," I said.
"Alright," said Rose. "The trouble is, we don't know when we'll see Raymond again. There's no regular rota that I've ever been able to work out, it's hit and miss who turns up when. If Raymond comes with dinner, I'll talk to her. But this has got to be sorted today: tomorrow's too late. Even if you saw Raymond at breakfast it's unlikely she could be back with chocolate in time."
I spent a very anxious afternoon. I paced the four paces between the washbasin and the door until Rose practically screamed at me to stop. Rose insisted on shaving me – it seemed you could be at death's door but shaving had to go on – though this time there was no happy ending. I was in too much of a state to shave Rose.
At long last the door opened: it was Bradley and Clark.
"You don't seem very pleased to see us," said Clark, as my face fell. "And here we've brought you a lovely stew."
"Officer Clark," said Rose, when the tepid bowls had been handed out. "May I speak to you frankly?"
"No rule against speaking," said Clark.
"The thing is," said Rose: "my cellmate is very unhappy."
"She expect a holiday camp?" asked Bradley.
"No: but she's desperate for some chocolate. That's why she was crying yesterday. In fact she'd do anything for some chocolate. Anything at all."
There was no mistaking Rose's meaning. Clark looked at her and worked her jaw, as though she was chewing gum."
"Are you her puppet?" she asked.
"No Officer Clark," said Rose.
"Then let her speak for herself."
Clark looked at me expectantly.
"Please Sir," I said. "Rose is right: I'd do anything for some chocolate. Anything you or Officer Bradley wished."
"Don't you just love it when they beg," grinned Clark to Bradley. "What do you reckon Officer Bradley: you tempted?"
"No," said Bradley. "Little white druggy girls ain't my type."
"Mine neither," said Clark. "Besides, it's more than my job's worth."
"What do you mean?" asked Rose.
"What I mean," said Clark, "is that Officer Hardiman has first call."
I would have given up. I would have crawled under the blankets and hoped never to come out. But Rose said:
"Then would you please give Officer Hardiman a message, Officer Clark?"
"You're asking a lot today Mason," said Clark. "What's the message?"
"Please will you tell her Chloe Littlehayes is desperate for a bar of chocolate, and she'll do anything to get one. Anything at all."
"Suppose I tell her: what do I get in return?"
"Anything it's in my power to give you," said Rose.
"All right Mason: I'll deliver your message. And I'll be back for payment sometime soon."
"Tweedledee and Tweedledum," said Rose, when the two Wardens were safely out of the cell. "Still, at least they agreed to take a message."
"Rose: how can I thank you?" I said.
"Chances are you won't have anything to thank me for," said Rose. "This is a long-shot, Chloe. Don't kid yourself otherwise. But it's the only shot we have."
Day Six: Exercise
I passed my worst night in prison so far, sleeping, waking, drifting in and out of fitful dreams. In the morning I slopped-out like a zombie, let Rose eat my breakfast, and barely noticed when Mrs Tiggywinkle came in to inspect my shave. The morning drew on, and my spirits sank lower and lower. Rose and I could think of nothing to say. I'd never been religious: but as I lay on my bed I silently prayed. Please, please, if you are there God, please let Hardiman come. It must have been the first time in the history of Sparsebrook Prison that someone had prayed for a visit from Hardiman.
To this day I don't know if anybody was listening. But at what I suppose must have been around noon, the door clanged open and Hardiman appeared.
"You, Mason," she said to Rose. "The passage wants sweeping: get out."
Just behind Hardiman I could see Bradley hovering with a broom. Rose got up promptly and left the cell. Hardiman closed the door. We were alone and my heart quailed.
"One of my Officers brought me a message," said Hardiman, who seemed to fill up half the cell. "She says you asked her to deliver it: is that correct?"
"Yes Sir," I said.
"I don't take kindly to being interrupted by messages," said Hardiman. "Especially messages asking for favours."
"No Sir," I said.
"I decide if and when I give chocolate to prisoners," said Hardiman. "And if I want you I'll come for you whenever I please."
"I'm sorry Sir," I said. My last hope had died away: my life was as good as over.
"All right, get your clothes off," said Hardiman.
"Sir?"
"Are you deaf Littlehayes? Get your kit off. NOW!"
I ripped my clothes off so fast a button tore off my shirt. Slowly, and with far more dignity, Hardiman too undressed. Naked, she was even more terrifying than clothed: her muscles were those of a bodybuilder: bulging; unnatural; hard. She stood up, towering and menacing: even her breasts seemed like weapons, a blow from one of which could put out your eye.
"Stand against the wall," she said. I stood in the space at the bottom of my bed and backed against the side wall. Hardiman placed herself in front of me, her face just inches from mine.
"You want a bar of chocolate?" she asked.
I no longer knew what to say.
"Well: do you?"
"Yes Sir," I said.
"Then suppose we fight for it," Hardiman said. "You and me. No weapons, no back-up. You beat me, you get a bar of chocolate. What about it?"
I looked up, at the muscled biceps and shoulders, the bulging neck, the granite face towering about a foot above mine. I felt the wall, cold against my back. I was in a living nightmare. No words would come out of my mouth.
Suddenly Hardiman thrust her right hand between my legs: I was too terrified to cry out. I felt the pressure down there increase: and then I found my feet were no longer touching the ground. The expression on Hardiman's face grew grimmer: her arm and shoulder were tensed: I could see the muscles rippling as slowly I began to rise into the air. My back chafed against the wall; the pressure on my vagina grew. Hardiman's lips were clenched: I was looking down on her head: I stretched my arms forward, was about to rest my hands on her crew-cut to stop myself falling forward, but checked myself, and regained my balance by leaning back against the wall.
My head was touching the ceiling. Hardiman's arm was outstretched, braced firm. Then the ceiling was pressing against the top of my head. I thought my head was going to crack open: I bent it forward, and then the pressure transferred to my neck.
Then Hardiman stopped. I hung there, suspended, my legs dangling, my head bowed, all my weight compressed into my vagina, onto Hardiman's hand and arm. Her arm began to tremble: there was sweat on her forehead. A new terror gripped me, the terror of being dropped. I started to panic, to reach out for Hardiman's head. Slowly Hardiman lowered her arm: when I was about two feet in the air she collapsed her arm altogether, and I dropped to the ground. Because Hardiman was so close to me there was nowhere to fall, so I stood, propped against the wall. Hardiman put her head close to mine: I could feel her breath on my face.
"I could crush you with one hand," she said. "Don't ever forget that,"
"I won't," I managed to mumble. "I mean 'I won't Sir'."
Hardiman stood back, and began to rub and rotate her right arm.
"Now get on the bed," she said.
I lay down: I thought I had gone to sleep and woken up in hell.
"'I'll do anything'" didn't you say?" she asked unpleasantly. "You can start by cleaning my arse."
She squatted over me, facing my feet. Even her arse had muscles where most arses have flesh. She reached back and spread her cheeks, and lowered her anus directly over my mouth.
"Get licking," she said.
So I licked. All around her ring. Backwards and forwards and round and round, the rank smell of her in my nostrils, the taste of sweat and anus and traces of shit on my tongue. At one point her anus puckered and opened slightly, so my tongue unintentionally probed inside. I heard Hardiman grunt: and for an awful moment I thought she was going to shit on me: but her anus contracted again.
"That's enough," she said abruptly. "Now suck me off."
She turned around: unlike Dawes she was clean-shaven: she lowered her vagina onto my lips until my head was pressed down into the pillow and I thought my jaw was going to break. I screamed: muffled sounds came out: I tried to wriggle free. She rose just sufficient for me to breathe.
I got to work with my tongue, but it was hard going. I'd struggled a bit with Megan, but that was mostly down to inexperience and nerves. But even between the legs Hardiman seemed to be made of muscle rather than flesh. Her labia felt rubbery and hard: I sucked: it was like rolling gristle over my tongue. I couldn't understand how a woman could be built like this: then it came to me: steroids. That would explain her aggression too, I thought. But the knowledge was no help to me. I probed and licked, but she felt dry, I just could not get into a rhythm. I remembered Rose's words, about women with clits like pebbles who you could rub for an hour before they came. It would be a terrible irony if Hardiman, the butchest woman in the prison, turned out to be one of these.
I squeezed out more saliva. Hardiman was barking commands: harder; higher; not so high. Finally I seemed to hit the spot: she'd stopped giving orders and started grunting. The grunts came more rapidly: her fanny was grinding down on my mouth: I licked and sucked for all I was worth, willing her to come – and she finally obliged, climaxing fiercely and almost burying my face.
Even the hardest, least emotional women must feel some flush of warmth towards somebody who has just given them an orgasm. But Hardiman showed nothing: she just stood up and started putting on her uniform. I might have been a robot, or a vibrating machine. Not a half-friendly look, not an acknowledgement did she give. Until, with one hand on the door, she reached inside the front pocket of her jacket, pulled out a bar of chocolate, and tossed it down onto the bed.
She was gone before I could thank her. I clutched at the chocolate, looked at it in disbelief – then clasped it to my breast as though it were my newborn child.
I was still clutching the chocolate when Rose returned.
"You look as though you've been through it," she said. "Want to talk about it?"
I shook my head. Then instead of answering I held out the chocolate bar.
"Chloe!" she exclaimed. "You got it. Oh, that's fantastic: and a whole bar!"
She came to the bed and hugged me.
"God Chloe," she said "I didn't really expect it. And a whole bar." Then a shadow ran across her face:
"Can I see it Chloe?" she said.
I handed over the chocolate, puzzled. Rose scrutinised the wrapper, then pushed out the foil-covered chocolate an inch or so, folded back a flap of the foil, and held it to her nose.
"It's OK," she said, smiling again. "It is real chocolate. After that misunderstanding in the showers I had to be sure."
"Eight squares," I said, for I had run my fingers over the wrapper and counted the outlines of the squares. Four for me to give Prana, and four for you."
"Oh no," said Rose. "You've earned it: and by the look of you it was hard earned. You keep the other four."
"If it wasn't for you there wouldn't be any chocolate," I said. "You take the other four."
"No," said Rose. "But if you take my advice you won't eat any yet. There are things more worth having than chocolate. Take it with you this afternoon and see if you can get some shampoo. The rate is usually two squares for one of those little bottles. If you get some shampoo I won't say no to a squeeze."
"I'll do that," I said, already making up my mind to get one bottle for myself and one for Rose. Then I hastily shoved the chocolate under my pillow as the lunch trolley clattered through the door.
After lunch I felt better. I brushed my teeth to try to get rid of the lingering taste of Hardiman's anus, and then I managed to fall asleep. When I awoke Rose told me to put on my clothes.
"Exercise isn't like showers," she said. "You won't get everybody groping you: for a start, everyone has to wear their uniform; for another it's often too cold. We use it more as a chance to barter: everyone who wants to trade takes their stuff there."
"How do we carry things?" I asked, for there were no pockets in our uniforms.
"You can carry them in your hands," said Rose: "it's not against the rules to trade. But sometimes it's better to keep things hidden, not let on what you've got. You can put stuff inside your bra or down your knickers. Or down your socks at a pinch. I'd put the chocolate inside your knickers, it's more secure. Just make sure it doesn't melt. Oh, and watch out for contraband."
"What's contraband?"
"Stuff that's been taken from the kitchens. The women who work there are searched before they leave, but they find ways. Just remember: if you fancy a carrot it's probably been inside somebody's fanny."
So when the cell doors were unlocked I stuffed the chocolate down the front of my knickers and joined the line of women in the corridor.
As before showers there was a buzz of excitement in the air. We were marched down a succession of corridors, through doors I'd never been through before, until I felt sharp, fresh air on my face, and we were outside.
It was almost a week since I had seen natural light, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. It was a fresh sort of day, with clouds chasing each other across the March sunshine. My bare legs felt chilled, but pleasantly so. It hit me with a pang of regret: what I had been missing all this time.
The Exercise Yard was a wire cage, about the size of four tennis courts. Wire mesh sides about twelve feet high supported a wire mesh roof. The Wardens were again out in force: when everybody had entered the pen, Dawes locked the steel doors. A couple of foam footballs were available, and some of the girls started tossing them around. There was chatter and excitement and an aura of pent-up energy being released. Some of the women were cuddling: a few paired off, took themselves off to the far end, and began kissing and sticking their hands up each-other's skirts.
Rose had drifted away with some friends. I looked for Prana, but could not see her in the throng. I decided to walk around the perimeter, for no other reason than the fact that I could, and was half-way round when Wilson, the skinhead, made a bee line for me.
"So what you brought me?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said.
"That's not very friendly, is it?" she said, and now that Rose had mentioned it I noticed the gap in her top front teeth. "Nothing in your bra or knickers then?"
"Get off me," I said, as she put her arms round me from behind and started patting my tits."
"Make me," she said nastily. Then roughly she pushed up my skirt, groped inside my knickers and yanked out my chocolate bar.
"Give that back, it's mine," I cried.
"Finders keepers," she said with a nasty grin. "A whole bar too: it's my lucky day."
"Please give it me back," I said, tears coming to my eyes.
"Oh, it's 'please' now is it?" she said. "Not a chance darling."
She would have walked away with it, but in desperation I snatched at the chocolate, and managed to regain it. I would have run, but quick as lightening she grabbed my arm and began to twist it.
"Let go of the chocolate or I'll break your stupid little arm," she growled.
"I can't," I wailed: "I've promised half of it to Prana. If you take it she'll tell Megan and there'll be a riot."
"Are you threatening me?" Wilson demanded.
"No," I protested, "I'm just telling you the truth. Look, I'll give you half. If you take half and leave me half I won't say anything. I promise."
Wilson glowered at me: her face creased with a succession of thoughts like the face of a child struggling with algebra. She'd already wrested the chocolate from me: now, abruptly, she snapped it in two, tore the wrapping off one of the halves, and, making sure I was watching, broke it into four and one after another crammed all four squares in her mouth. When she had chewed and swallowed them, she frowned at the other half then thrust it back at my chest.
"I've had my finger up you," she said. "Just remember that."
I turned and ran away.
"Watch Out!" somebody shouted.
"Catch it!" shouted somebody else. A foam football came sailing towards me, hit me on the shoulder and bounced away. "Come and join in," called a woman I half-recognised from the showers.
"Later," I called. There was nothing I fancied more than a mad chase after a ball, but I could hardly run with the chocolate in my knickers, and I desperately wanted to give it to Prana before anymore mishaps could occur. I wormed my way through a cluster of women who were haggling over items laid out on the ground. I saw packets of biscuits, an orange, hair-slides and hair-bands, shampoo and perfume, a hair brush, chocolate and crisps. I looked for someone I could recognise, but with their hair dry and their uniforms on everybody looked unfamiliar.
"My my, aren't you a girl's wet dream, even with your clothes on?" someone said, as an arm was coiled around my waist. "Fancy earning a hairband?"
"Maybe later," I said.
"She'd rather have a banana, wouldn't you love?" said a second woman, of about sixty."
"Wouldn't we all!" exclaimed the first.
I twisted away, and found Prana chatting at the end of the pen, with Megan and a few others.
"Chloe," she said, running towards me. Again she gave that little hands-together bow of greeting, which I returned.
"Chloe: it is so good to see you," she said. "But you are looking unhappy: why is this?"
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her: but I'd promised Wilson I would say nothing, and dreaded the trouble that might ensue if I broke my word.
"It's nothing," I said: "just a bit of a row."
"A bit of a row? Is this anything we can help with?"
"No, Prana," I said. "It's nothing: I'm fine now."
"That is good," said Prana: and she put her arms around me and gave me a hug.
"I've got something for you," I said. And I reached down into my knickers and pulled out the chocolate."
"Chloe, this is wonderful, thank you," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "I love chocolate, I cannot have too much."
She waved the chocolate at Megan, who was leaning against the mesh – I had a hunch that Megan never played ball. The other women nodded at me.
"It's so good to see you Prana," I said.
"You too Chloe, you too," Prana said. "And now I must eat a piece of this lovely chocolate you've brought for me."
She held the bar up to her nose and sniffed sensuously, closing her eyes as she did so. Then she peeled back the wrapper, and the foil. And then her expression changed.
At first she frowned in puzzlement; then, as she peeled back the wrapper completely and held the chocolate in front of her, her face turned into a mask of rage.
"Why have you given me this shit?" she demanded. "You tried to cheat me: you are a sick, poisonous little girl."
Before I could get out a word, before I could even take in what was happening, a stinging slap caught me on the cheek, and I was so take aback I fell backwards onto the ground.
"Cheat; scum; fucking little bitch:" Prana was screaming at me like a fury: her hair was wild, her eyes were blazing, and following up the blow she threw the bar of chocolate at me then hurled herself on top of me, pinned me down with her knees either side of my head, grabbed hold of my hair and was screaming insults into my face, shaking my head, spitting at me like a tigress whose cubs have been threatened.
"Help me," I yelled: I had absolutely no idea what I'd done, only that this girl who seconds ago had been my friend was spitting insults at me and trying to tear out my hair. I twisted my head: I saw Rose running towards us: then another figure was on the scene: a strong hand gripped Prana's wrist, an arm was hooked around Prana's waist and she was lifted clean off me, still screaming, and restrained.
I was too stunned to move. Rose was kneeling by my side, asking me if I was alright; my face stung, my hair was dishevelled, my skirt had ridden up to my waist, and a crowd of women had gathered at the scene.
"Now what's this all about?" asked Megan, who still had a restraining arm around Prana.
"I don't know," I wailed. "She just turned on me for no reason."
"She tried to trick me," shouted Prana, who was panting heavily. "She owed me chocolate: she tried to give me that shit instead."
"I gave you chocolate," I cried. "What's wrong with it?"
"The bitch tried to give me laxative," Prana yelled.
"What?" I exclaimed.
Rose picked up the chocolate. She looked at it, sniffed at it, and looked puzzled. Prana snatched it out of her hand, and brandished it in front of the watching crowd.
"It looks like chocolate," she said. "But it is laxative. Look at the markings."
Megan took the chocolate, let go of Prana, and examined the bar.
"It's laxative chocolate," she said, giving me a very hard look.
"I didn't know," I protested. "I had no idea."
"Show me," said Rose.
Megan showed her the chocolate: "Here," she said, pointing: "it looks like ordinary chocolate: you can tell by the imprint here. We've seen them before."
"But it's in an ordinary wrapper," said Rose.
"Somebody's switched them," shrugged Megan: again she gave me a look that chilled me to the core.
"She switched them," said Prana, extending her arm and pointing at me. "Stinking little bitch switched them to cheat me."
"Let her speak," said Megan.
"I didn't know," I said. "I didn't switch wrappers, how could I? I had no idea. Hardiman gave it to me. Honestly," I went on, tears in my eyes. "I wouldn't cheat anybody least of all Prana. I swear I didn't know."
Megan and Prana looked at each other. Megan said to Rose:
"Is this true?"
"Yes," said Rose. "Hardiman gave her the chocolate. She had no idea what it was. I looked at it myself: I had no idea either."
"Get up," said Megan.
Rose helped me to my feet.
"She's telling the truth," said Megan. Prana looked down at her feet; she began twisting her hands, one hand in the other: she looked like a shamefaced child who has just been caught doing wrong.
"Chloe," she said. "I am sorry. I thought you tried to cheat me."
"I would never cheat you," I said, sobbing.
"I know that now: but so many people lie and cheat: I have a nasty temper when I think someone is trying to cheat me. I am truly sorry."
"It's all right," I said.
Her head still bowed Prana came up to me: then she looked up at me, and touched her hand to my cheek. I flinched.
"I've hurt you Chloe: can you ever forgive me?"
"Yes," I said. "I understand: if I'd been you I'd have done the same."
"You are very understanding Chloe: but you do not tell truth: if you had been me you would not have done this, because you are a much, much better person than I."
"Prana," said. "I'm just glad we've cleared things up." I put my arms round her and we hugged. Over Prana's shoulder I saw Rose watching me, looking displeased.
"I'll get you some proper chocolate Prana," I said, letting go.
"No no," said Prana. "No chocolate. Finished."
"OK, "I said.
We separated. I think we both felt very sheepish. I wasn't sure what to do next when Megan fixed me with another of her looks and said:
"How much chocolate did Hardiman give you?"
I hesitated, because I could see at once where this might lead, but there was no way of avoiding it.
"A bar," I said.
"A bar. Eight squares?"
"Yes."
"So where are the other four squares?"
Again I hesitated.
"I gave them to somebody," I said.
"Who?"
"I can't say," I said.
Both Megan and Prana stirred at this.
"Chloe," said Prana, a little less warmly: "this is important: because if you ate any of that chocolate you would have known it was laxative, and then if you still gave this to me – "
"She didn't," said Rose sharply. "She had the whole bar with her when we came out. She was going to try to trade for shampoo. Besides, if she knew it was laxative she'd hardly try to palm it off on you."
"OK," said Prana. "I am only asking."
"Is that what you did," asked Rose: "trade for shampoo?"
"No," I said.
"Chloe," said Prana: "you must tell us: if somebody has this chocolate and doesn't realise it is laxative there will be much trouble."
"I gave it to somebody. That is, somebody took it off me. But I promised I wouldn't tell."
"Who took it Chloe?" Megan's expression left me in no doubt I had to tell.
"Wilson," I said.
"Wilson?" exclaimed Prana. "Wilson the skinhead?"
Megan whistled, long and low.
"Yes," I said. And then I told the whole story, how Wilson had cornered me, how I had only managed to keep half the bar by telling her it was for Prana.
"Chloe," said Prana: "what did Wilson do with the chocolate?"
"She ate it," I said.
"All four squares?" asked Rose.
"Yes," I said. "She stuffed it into her mouth in front of me and swallowed it."
Prana and Megan looked at each other. For the first time since I'd known her a semblance of a grin cracked Megan's face. Rose too was smiling. But Prana was literally jumping up and down with delight.
"Chloe," she said. "This is brilliant. This is wonderful. She will shit her pants. She will shit herself day and night. She will shit out all her fat racist guts. Chloe, you are a genius: this is the best thing that has ever happened in prison." She came up to me and hugged me over and again, an expression of mischievous, childlike glee on her face. The few women who had remained after the fight was over were also laughing. I couldn't help being buoyed up by their excitement - but I was scared as well.
"She'll kill me when she finds out," I said.
"No Chloe," said Prana. "She thinks I had half the chocolate, so when she comes to me I will say I ate it and was OK. Maybe I'll say Megan had a square and was OK?" She turned to Megan for confirmation, and Megan nodded. "She is very stupid Chloe: she will think the Wardens put laxative in her lunch – sometimes they do this."
"She's not that stupid," said Rose. "Even she will make the connection."
"If she does, what can she say?" said Prana. "She took the chocolate – Chloe did not want to give it to her. Chloe will be safe."
"That's easy for you to say," said Rose. "It's not your neck on the block."
"Wilson won't touch her," said Megan.
I breathed a little easier:
"How long does it take to act?" I asked.
"One square, about half and hour," said Megan. "Four squares – who knows?"
"Where is Wilson?" asked Rose. We looked around, and quickly spotted the bulky skinhead amongst the ballplayers. Even as I looked I saw her barge into one of the West Indian girls, and any vestige of charity I might have felt towards her disappeared.
"There'll be fireworks soon," said Rose.
In fact it seemed as though the fireworks were about to begin: for once, then a second time, Wilson paused in her pursuit of the ball, leaned forward, touched her hands to her belly, and looked around, puzzled. "Ball," somebody shouted, as the ball headed her way: but instead of making for the ball, she turned her back on the game and began lumbering towards the furthest corner of the pen. There was only one person in the vicinity – Fatima, the Muslim girl, who was crouched against the wire with her head to her knees. Wilson pulled her up by the shoulder and shoved her away; then she yanked urgently at her skirt and struggled to get her knickers off. In her haste her knickers caught around one ankle, she half lost her balance, put out a hand to steady herself: and then, although it was too far away to hear her distinctly, we could tell from a curse and an angry gesture that it was too late. She steadied herself, leaning into the corner of the pen, looked down at her knickers which were still trapped around one ankle: and then the bottom began to drop out of her world. Gathering her skirt around her waist, she shat again. Prana was delirious with joy:
"Look at her!" she exclaimed. "It is working Chloe, look!"
For several minutes we watched: Wilson's posture told the whole tale: she squatted; she stood up; she clasped her stomach; she leaned forward; she shat again.
Then a whistle blew:
"End of exercise," a voice boomed. "Get into line."
Grudgingly we began to form a line – everyone except Wilson who remained in the corner, oblivious. Hardiman walked past us, pointed to her and shouted something to Clark and Mrs Tiggywinkle, who went striding across the pen. We watched as they approached Wilson: there was an exchange of words, which we couldn't make out, then Clark and Mrs Tiggywinkle looked at each other nonplussed. And no wonder: it was one thing being sent to round-up an errant prisoner: but if that prisoner was squatting in a corner shitting out her guts, what could they do? After a brief consultation they came striding back across the pen and spoke to Hardiman.
Hardiman looked grim. Any minute now the order would be given for us to start walking back, but we were desperate to see how this panned out. Hardiman shouted for Dawes: Dawes arrived, and after another brief consultation the two of them went striding off towards Wilson. More words were shouted: for a moment it seemed even Dawes and Hardiman were at a loss. Then from her squatting position Wilson stretched out her arm and pointed across towards me. Hardiman and Dawes walked about half way back towards us then Hardiman shouted my name:
"Littlehayes: Here."
With awful trepidation I went to my fate.
"What did you do with that chocolate I gave you?" Hardiman demanded.
"I – I gave half to Wilson Sir," I said. "That is – Wilson took it off me. I had no choice Sir."
"Where's the other half?" asked Dawes.
"Megan's got it Sir," I said. "She – she knows what it is, Sir."
And then, of all the improbable happenings that day, what happened next was the most improbable of all: Hardiman and Dawes looked at each other: and they started to laugh.
"All right Littlehayes," said Hardiman. "Get back in line."
"Yes Sir – thank you Sir," I said.
I scuttled back to the line. I saw Prana grinning and giving me a thumbs-up sign, which I returned.
"All right?" asked Rose anxiously.
"I think so," I said. "Yes."
The last we all saw, as we filed round the perimeter of the pen, was Wilson's bare backside huddled into the corner, whilst Dawes and Hardiman berated her, and told her she was, amongst other things, a 'stinking fat pile of shit'.
Despite the merriment, Rose seemed subdued when we were back in the cell. Dinner was brought: a baked potato which even the prison kitchens couldn't ruin. But afterwards Rose told me she had a headache and wanted to lie quiet. I watched her take off her skirt and pants, and settle herself down on her stomach, with her head turned to the wall. I could see she had her hand between her legs, but she hardly seemed to be moving.
I lay on my back, and tried to relax, but my mind was buzzing. Never before had so much happened to me in one day: my ordeal with Hardiman; my relief at getting the bar of chocolate; my encounter with Wilson; my pleasure at seeing Prana which quickly turned to anguish, then relief; the spectacle of Wilson shitting herself. It had been a day of roller coaster extremes. My fanny was sore from Hardiman's hand, my cheek still stung from Prana's slap, and I had a bump on the back of my head from my fall, which had swollen painfully. I ran these events over and over: in particular I thought of Prana, trying to make sense of her, trying to fit my latest experience of her with my old. Without my intending it my hand had slid between my legs: just for comfort, no more. I saw Prana hurl herself at me like an avenging fury; I saw her face glowing with delight at Wilson's predicament; I saw again the lovely, sensual girl I'd held in the shower. My fingers were moving of their own accord: I was starting to get wet. Then my reverie was broken by a muffled, sobbing sound.
Rose is bringing herself off again, I thought. But the sound wasn't right, and a quick glance showed me that Rose was crying.
I slipped off my bed and across to her. I looked down at her, her fulsome, pale buttocks and thighs that I had become so fond of. I put my hand on her bottom:
"What is it Rose?" I asked.
For a minute Rose continued to sob into the pillow. I tried to lie on the bed beside her.
"Move up," I said.
She turned onto her side, facing the wall, and I lay behind her, pressed up close, and put my hand over her tummy. I'd come to think of Rose as the ultimate in wisdom and experience, strong, almost indestructible: it was disconcerting to see this vulnerable side.
"Look at me," she said, trying to laugh. "You'd think I'd know better."
"Come on Rose," I said: "what is it?"
"When you've been in here as long as I have," Rose sighed, "you think you've seen every meanness human beings are capable of. But there are always surprises."
"Hardiman?" I asked.
"That stunt with the laxative – that was low, even for Hardiman."
"She hates me Rose: I don't know why, I've never done anything to upset her.
"She hates you because you're bright and because you're a good person: everything she's not and wants to destroy."
"I never told you what she did to me this morning."
"What did she do?"
I told Rose.
"She's sick," Rose said. "That's the trouble – you can't counter that sort of sickness. Do you realise what the consequences of the laxative could have been?"
"We could have been fighting over the bucket?"
"Worse than that. Hardiman knew it was Exercise day. She knew you'd try to trade at least some of that chocolate. It could have gone to anybody. Anybody could have eaten it. And then they'd have been after your blood. It was pure luck it went to somebody who recognised it for what it was"
"Rose," I said, thinking again of the incident. "When I was on the ground – when Prana attacked me – you came running towards me."
"I know," said Rose. "And that's what really scares me."
"Because of Megan?"
"She frightens me Chloe – I don't mind admitting it"
"But – she let me speak. She pulled Prana off and listened to me. She believed me."
"True," said Rose. "But if you'd been lying – or if she hadn't believed you – things could have gone very differently. For both of us. That's what I mean Chloe: ever since I've been here I've tried to keep my head down. I've never conned anybody or antagonised anybody. I think most people here respect me. I've protected myself emotionally, too: I've never let myself get close to anybody or get hurt by anybody. You only get let down in the end, and besides, there hasn't been anybody worth getting close to. Then I forgot myself for a moment – and came within a whisker of landing us both in hospital. It's brought it home to me, Chloe: no matter how carefully you tread in here, you're always walking on very thin ice."
I hugged Rose tightly.
"I'm very touched – and grateful," I said. "But you'd have come to help anyone else in my position, wouldn't you."
"No," said Rose. "I might have come towards them – but I wouldn't have intervened."
"What would have happened if you'd got to Prana first?"
"I don't care to think about it."
"Why didn't the Wardens intervene?"
"They were thinking about it," said Rose. "But unless someone is being half-killed they don't get involved in what they call prisoner squabbles."
"Rose – I don't know what to say. Thank you."
"Some of the people in here are like black holes Chloe. Get close to them and they suck you in, and you never get out again. Please stay away from them if you can."
"I will," I said. "Megan frightens me as well – even though she did right by me today. The way she looks at me scares me."
"Megan isn't the only one," said Rose.
We seemed to have said all that was necessary. The light had now gone out, and I cuddled up to Rose as best as I could on the narrow bed. I tried to show my affection and gratitude by holding her, squeezing her. I ran my hand under her pullover, and down over her warm, soft belly.
"We haven't shaved today you know, she said. "Still, it's too late now. We'll have to do it straight after slops."
"Is there anything I can do for you now?" I asked.
"A rub to send me to sleep would be nice," she said. So I obliged her.
"So," said Rose a while later: "How're you feeling?"
"Blitzed," I said. "Completely and utterly knocked out. And sore."
"Understandable," said Rose. "But you did yourself proud in there."
"Did I?" I asked. "I thought I made too much fuss."
"Chloe: I've seen girls kicking and screaming and crying their eyes out during their initiation. And for a long time afterwards. You did brilliantly. And the women respect you for it."
"Well – that's good to know," I said.
"And you dealt with Megan. I didn't see much of you afterwards, what were you up to?"
I told Rose about Wilson.
"She's a nasty piece of work," said Rose. "A racist and a bully. In fact she's in here for racist crimes. She usually picks on foreigners: but anyone weak or vulnerable will do. She's got a small group of hangers-on, but hardly anyone likes her. Best steer clear of her."
"She doesn't seem to like Megan much," I said, and told Rose what she'd said.
"They can't stand each other," said Rose. "Did you notice Wilson's missing front tooth?"
"I can't say I did," I said, trying to recall that tight-lipped, unpleasant smile.
"Megan did that," said Rose. "They had a fight. Only it wasn't much of a fight, because Wilson likes to pretend she's hard whereas Megan is genuinely hard. Still, Wilson's jealous, because she'd like to be top dog: and one day Megan called her bluff. I think it came to a head over one of the Indian girls: Wilson had been bullying her, she went to Megan to complain."
"I'll keep well away," I said.
Mention of an Indian girl brought to mind Prana: but something held me back from mentioning her to Rose. When I thought about this, later that night, I realised I felt ever so slightly guilty – as though in some way I had betrayed Rose. I knew this was silly: I'd learned very quickly that in prison everyone took their sexual pleasure whenever they could with whoever they could: Rose herself had told me, without a hint of jealousy, that everybody would want a piece of me. It was the fact that I'd enjoyed it that worried me, and made me feel the special pleasure I'd taken with Rose was no longer unique. So it wasn't until the following morning, when I'd realised that I was being over-sensitive, and that Rose would find out anyway, that I spilled the beans.
"I almost forgot to tell you," I said, shortly after breakfast: "I earned four squares of chocolate yesterday."
"You did what?" said Rose, who had her hand between her legs as usual. "That's amazing – I wonder you had the time. Did Megan give you some then?"
"No, not Megan – somebody else."
"Who?" asked Rose – so intrigued by now her hand had stopped moving.
"Prana," I said.
"Prana?" asked Rose: she took her hand away altogether and turned towards me.
"Little Indian girl, about my age," I said, "very pretty."
"Yes," said Rose. "I know who Prana is. But unless there are two identical Pranas I very much doubt she gave you four squares of chocolate. Are you absolutely sure about this?"
"Certain," I said. "I was surprised myself: I thought she'd try and beat me down."
"Chloe:" said Rose: and suddenly she was sitting up on her bed looking very serious: "there's something not right about this. Other people pay Prana for sex. She does not pay for sex. And definitely not four squares. People don't even pay Prana four squares."
"But she did," I said, almost doubting my own judgement. "She told me she liked me and she wanted to have sex with me. I mean, I am young and – well, you told me yourself that everybody would want me."
"Chloe: I want you to think very carefully and tell me exactly what happened."
"Well, Prana came up to me – after I'd been in the shower – and she told me I had nice breasts, and I told her she had nice breasts, and then she said she'd like to have sex with me and would I like to have sex with her, and I thought a bit, as I didn't really, but Wilson had just been bullying me and – "
"Never mind Wilson – what exactly did you and Prana say?"
"So I said yes. Then I thought of what you'd said to me, and I said 'Four squares of chocolate?' And she looked at me a bit oddly and said 'Yes Four Squares." So we – we had sex."
"And who brought who off?"
"We brought each other off," I said, starting to feel a bit embarrassed. First she brought me off with her hand, then I sucked her off. Then she said 'Thank you Chloe, that was a nice surprise'".
"And that's it? What about the chocolate?"
"When she left me she said 'See you with the chocolate in the Exercise Yard'."
"Chloe you fool! You utter fool. Oh you stupid, stupid –"
"What have I done?" I cried. I had never seen Rose angry like this.
"What have you done? Chloe: Prana didn't pay you four squares of chocolate: you paid her!"
"What?" I said.
"How could you be such a little fool?"
"But that's crazy," I said. "That doesn't make sense."
"Didn't it ever occur to you as strange that the prettiest girl in the whole prison should offer to pay you four squares of chocolate? Well didn't it?"
"It was a surprise, but then I didn't think –"
"You have to think, Chloe. In here you have to have your wits about you all the time. Didn't I tell you that if you were lucky you might get half a square?"
"But she was so nice," I said. "She came on to me: she wanted it more than I did."
"You are so naïve it's not true," said Rose. "Of course she came on to you. Of course she flattered you. That's part of her technique. What do you expect her to do: say 'I think you stink, but do you want to have sex with me anyway?'"
I thought back over the whole incident: I just couldn't square what had happened with Rose's version. Prana had liked me. Even if I had inadvertently offered to pay her, I was sure she had liked me."
"She liked me," I said defensively.
"Well maybe she did," said Rose. The two things aren't mutually exclusive. Maybe she did think you had lovely breasts: that still doesn't alter the fact that you owe her four squares of chocolate."
"I'll explain," I said. "She was sweet – she'll understand."
"Sweet?" Rose almost screamed. "This is prison Chloe, nobody's sweet here. You're not discussing Henry the Eight with a bunch of Undergraduates: everybody in this place is screwed, Chloe. Some of them may be eighty percent decent or even ninety per cent decent: but somewhere they've all got a screw loose. That's why they're here. They've done something wrong: seriously wrong. They've stabbed somebody or robbed somebody or set fire to something. Sweet? I'll tell you how sweet Prana is: do you know what she did before she came here?"
"No," I said apprehensively.
"I'll tell you," said Rose. "She worked in a massage parlour: she had a row with one of the other girls, something about stealing a client: and she gouged out one of this girl's eyes.
"So what do you think she'll do to you when you turn up in the Exercise Yard and tell her you don't have any chocolate because you thought she was paying you? Well?"
"Oh God," I said. "Oh God Rose: what have I done?"
I started to shake: first my shoulders shook; then my hands and jaw shook; then my head and then my whole body were shaking. Rose was still staring at me in disbelief. Then she put her hand to her chin.
"You are in shit up to here," she said.
"Rose," I said, "please don't be angry, please, I don't know what to do."
"Neither do I," said Rose.
"Oh God, Rose: when is Exercise?"
"Tomorrow afternoon," said Rose. "So you've got just over twenty-four hours to get your hands on some chocolate."
For a while Rose would not speak to me. I lay on my bed shaking. Then I kicked my legs up and down on the bed in frustration, over and over and over. Then I cried.
Then the door opened and Clark and Bradley came in with lunch.
"What's up with misery guts," said Clark.
"She had a hard time in the showers yesterday," said Rose.
"Hard time?" snorted Clark. "I thought she had it easy. She needs to toughen up."
"You're all heart Officer Clark," said Rose. "I don't suppose you've got any chocolate going spare?"
"In your dreams," said Clark.
"You want chocolate you lick my arse," said Bradley.
"Why didn't you tell me about this yesterday?" asked Rose when they'd gone.
"I don't know," I sobbed.
"It would have given us more time. Now eat your lunch before it gets cold."
Since lunch was a cold cheese sandwich this was Rose's attempt at a joke, but I was too miserable to respond. I was also too miserable to eat, and though I sipped half-heartedly at the tea I ignored the food.
"Chloe: eat," said Rose.
"I can't," I said.
"Chloe: no-one can think straight on an empty stomach: I'm not going to talk this through with you until you've eaten."
So I ate a joyless lunch.
"Alright," said Rose. "I've stopped being angry. Now pull yourself together."
"I'll try," I said.
"The good thing is," said Rose, "you told me. If you hadn't, and you'd gone to Exercise tomorrow – well, we'd best not think about that."
"Supposing I explained to Prana," I said, "and asked for more time? Offered to pay in instalments. Offered her double or something?"
"And how are you going to explain the mistake without insulting her?"
"I could say I thought I had chocolate but I didn't. Or that somebody took it."
"Chloe: you're a very bad liar, and in any case that is the most transparent lie you could tell. Don't go there: you'll make a bad situation worse."
"Rose: if I confronted her: if I told her I'd made a mistake, and refused to let her bully me if she got angry – would you – be with me?"
"As back up you mean?" asked Rose.
"I suppose so," I said – though even as I was saying this I was shaking with terror at the prospect, and knew there was not the slightest chance of carrying it through.
"Chloe: you'd have about as much chance as a laboratory rabbit against a polecat. And just suppose you got a million to one break – let's say she slipped and knocked herself out – who do you think would back her up?"
"I don't know – one of the other Indian girls I suppose."
"Megan," said Rose.
"Megan?"
"That's right," said Rose. "Prana was the girl who went to Megan after Wilson threatened her."
"I'm dead," I said. "Rose: what on earth am I going to do?"
"You've got to get hold of some chocolate," said Rose: "by whatever means it takes."
"What if I was sick?" I asked. "Could I get out of Exercise?"
"If anybody believed you, you'd be taken to the prison doctor," said Rose. "She'd stick a thermometer up your arse and if it read less than a hundred you'd be told to stop malingering. Forget it: cleverer people than you have tried it and failed."
"Well, supposing I went to Megan," I said: "and explained, and asked her?"
"If you ask Megan for chocolate for services rendered you'd better write your Will first."
"I don't mean that – I mean as a loan."
"It's a possibility," said Rose. "She does make loans. But I don't recommend it: you'd be in hock to her for the rest of your term – and in ways you can't predict."
"Rose, I'll suck her off every Showers if that's what it takes," I exclaimed.
"Would you move into her cell?"
"What? No of course not! Surely they wouldn't allow it? You told me prisoners rarely got moved."
"Megan has a lot of pull – even with the Wardens. You look in her cell you'll see things you won't see anywhere else: paper, books, playing cards. I'll tell you about it sometime. Moving in might be her condition for a loan."
"For four lousy squares of chocolate?"
"Four squares of chocolate that might just save your life."
"I couldn't do it," I said.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," said Rose. "Because you won't just be sucking her off every shower day, you'll be locked up with her at her beck and call every day and night. And if you do something to annoy her you'll find yourself upside down with your head in the slops."
Instinctively I put my hands to my face.
"No," said Rose. "Megan is a very last resort. Besides, you won't see her until Exercise and by then it may be too late. And that applies to all the other prisoners. No: your best hope is one of the Wardens. And your best hope amongst them is Raymond. She might, she just might, help. It's a huge ask, and you'll be in her debt for a long time: but that's better than being in hock to Megan."
"I'll do anything," I said.
"Alright," said Rose. "The trouble is, we don't know when we'll see Raymond again. There's no regular rota that I've ever been able to work out, it's hit and miss who turns up when. If Raymond comes with dinner, I'll talk to her. But this has got to be sorted today: tomorrow's too late. Even if you saw Raymond at breakfast it's unlikely she could be back with chocolate in time."
I spent a very anxious afternoon. I paced the four paces between the washbasin and the door until Rose practically screamed at me to stop. Rose insisted on shaving me – it seemed you could be at death's door but shaving had to go on – though this time there was no happy ending. I was in too much of a state to shave Rose.
At long last the door opened: it was Bradley and Clark.
"You don't seem very pleased to see us," said Clark, as my face fell. "And here we've brought you a lovely stew."
"Officer Clark," said Rose, when the tepid bowls had been handed out. "May I speak to you frankly?"
"No rule against speaking," said Clark.
"The thing is," said Rose: "my cellmate is very unhappy."
"She expect a holiday camp?" asked Bradley.
"No: but she's desperate for some chocolate. That's why she was crying yesterday. In fact she'd do anything for some chocolate. Anything at all."
There was no mistaking Rose's meaning. Clark looked at her and worked her jaw, as though she was chewing gum."
"Are you her puppet?" she asked.
"No Officer Clark," said Rose.
"Then let her speak for herself."
Clark looked at me expectantly.
"Please Sir," I said. "Rose is right: I'd do anything for some chocolate. Anything you or Officer Bradley wished."
"Don't you just love it when they beg," grinned Clark to Bradley. "What do you reckon Officer Bradley: you tempted?"
"No," said Bradley. "Little white druggy girls ain't my type."
"Mine neither," said Clark. "Besides, it's more than my job's worth."
"What do you mean?" asked Rose.
"What I mean," said Clark, "is that Officer Hardiman has first call."
I would have given up. I would have crawled under the blankets and hoped never to come out. But Rose said:
"Then would you please give Officer Hardiman a message, Officer Clark?"
"You're asking a lot today Mason," said Clark. "What's the message?"
"Please will you tell her Chloe Littlehayes is desperate for a bar of chocolate, and she'll do anything to get one. Anything at all."
"Suppose I tell her: what do I get in return?"
"Anything it's in my power to give you," said Rose.
"All right Mason: I'll deliver your message. And I'll be back for payment sometime soon."
"Tweedledee and Tweedledum," said Rose, when the two Wardens were safely out of the cell. "Still, at least they agreed to take a message."
"Rose: how can I thank you?" I said.
"Chances are you won't have anything to thank me for," said Rose. "This is a long-shot, Chloe. Don't kid yourself otherwise. But it's the only shot we have."
Day Six: Exercise
I passed my worst night in prison so far, sleeping, waking, drifting in and out of fitful dreams. In the morning I slopped-out like a zombie, let Rose eat my breakfast, and barely noticed when Mrs Tiggywinkle came in to inspect my shave. The morning drew on, and my spirits sank lower and lower. Rose and I could think of nothing to say. I'd never been religious: but as I lay on my bed I silently prayed. Please, please, if you are there God, please let Hardiman come. It must have been the first time in the history of Sparsebrook Prison that someone had prayed for a visit from Hardiman.
To this day I don't know if anybody was listening. But at what I suppose must have been around noon, the door clanged open and Hardiman appeared.
"You, Mason," she said to Rose. "The passage wants sweeping: get out."
Just behind Hardiman I could see Bradley hovering with a broom. Rose got up promptly and left the cell. Hardiman closed the door. We were alone and my heart quailed.
"One of my Officers brought me a message," said Hardiman, who seemed to fill up half the cell. "She says you asked her to deliver it: is that correct?"
"Yes Sir," I said.
"I don't take kindly to being interrupted by messages," said Hardiman. "Especially messages asking for favours."
"No Sir," I said.
"I decide if and when I give chocolate to prisoners," said Hardiman. "And if I want you I'll come for you whenever I please."
"I'm sorry Sir," I said. My last hope had died away: my life was as good as over.
"All right, get your clothes off," said Hardiman.
"Sir?"
"Are you deaf Littlehayes? Get your kit off. NOW!"
I ripped my clothes off so fast a button tore off my shirt. Slowly, and with far more dignity, Hardiman too undressed. Naked, she was even more terrifying than clothed: her muscles were those of a bodybuilder: bulging; unnatural; hard. She stood up, towering and menacing: even her breasts seemed like weapons, a blow from one of which could put out your eye.
"Stand against the wall," she said. I stood in the space at the bottom of my bed and backed against the side wall. Hardiman placed herself in front of me, her face just inches from mine.
"You want a bar of chocolate?" she asked.
I no longer knew what to say.
"Well: do you?"
"Yes Sir," I said.
"Then suppose we fight for it," Hardiman said. "You and me. No weapons, no back-up. You beat me, you get a bar of chocolate. What about it?"
I looked up, at the muscled biceps and shoulders, the bulging neck, the granite face towering about a foot above mine. I felt the wall, cold against my back. I was in a living nightmare. No words would come out of my mouth.
Suddenly Hardiman thrust her right hand between my legs: I was too terrified to cry out. I felt the pressure down there increase: and then I found my feet were no longer touching the ground. The expression on Hardiman's face grew grimmer: her arm and shoulder were tensed: I could see the muscles rippling as slowly I began to rise into the air. My back chafed against the wall; the pressure on my vagina grew. Hardiman's lips were clenched: I was looking down on her head: I stretched my arms forward, was about to rest my hands on her crew-cut to stop myself falling forward, but checked myself, and regained my balance by leaning back against the wall.
My head was touching the ceiling. Hardiman's arm was outstretched, braced firm. Then the ceiling was pressing against the top of my head. I thought my head was going to crack open: I bent it forward, and then the pressure transferred to my neck.
Then Hardiman stopped. I hung there, suspended, my legs dangling, my head bowed, all my weight compressed into my vagina, onto Hardiman's hand and arm. Her arm began to tremble: there was sweat on her forehead. A new terror gripped me, the terror of being dropped. I started to panic, to reach out for Hardiman's head. Slowly Hardiman lowered her arm: when I was about two feet in the air she collapsed her arm altogether, and I dropped to the ground. Because Hardiman was so close to me there was nowhere to fall, so I stood, propped against the wall. Hardiman put her head close to mine: I could feel her breath on my face.
"I could crush you with one hand," she said. "Don't ever forget that,"
"I won't," I managed to mumble. "I mean 'I won't Sir'."
Hardiman stood back, and began to rub and rotate her right arm.
"Now get on the bed," she said.
I lay down: I thought I had gone to sleep and woken up in hell.
"'I'll do anything'" didn't you say?" she asked unpleasantly. "You can start by cleaning my arse."
She squatted over me, facing my feet. Even her arse had muscles where most arses have flesh. She reached back and spread her cheeks, and lowered her anus directly over my mouth.
"Get licking," she said.
So I licked. All around her ring. Backwards and forwards and round and round, the rank smell of her in my nostrils, the taste of sweat and anus and traces of shit on my tongue. At one point her anus puckered and opened slightly, so my tongue unintentionally probed inside. I heard Hardiman grunt: and for an awful moment I thought she was going to shit on me: but her anus contracted again.
"That's enough," she said abruptly. "Now suck me off."
She turned around: unlike Dawes she was clean-shaven: she lowered her vagina onto my lips until my head was pressed down into the pillow and I thought my jaw was going to break. I screamed: muffled sounds came out: I tried to wriggle free. She rose just sufficient for me to breathe.
I got to work with my tongue, but it was hard going. I'd struggled a bit with Megan, but that was mostly down to inexperience and nerves. But even between the legs Hardiman seemed to be made of muscle rather than flesh. Her labia felt rubbery and hard: I sucked: it was like rolling gristle over my tongue. I couldn't understand how a woman could be built like this: then it came to me: steroids. That would explain her aggression too, I thought. But the knowledge was no help to me. I probed and licked, but she felt dry, I just could not get into a rhythm. I remembered Rose's words, about women with clits like pebbles who you could rub for an hour before they came. It would be a terrible irony if Hardiman, the butchest woman in the prison, turned out to be one of these.
I squeezed out more saliva. Hardiman was barking commands: harder; higher; not so high. Finally I seemed to hit the spot: she'd stopped giving orders and started grunting. The grunts came more rapidly: her fanny was grinding down on my mouth: I licked and sucked for all I was worth, willing her to come – and she finally obliged, climaxing fiercely and almost burying my face.
Even the hardest, least emotional women must feel some flush of warmth towards somebody who has just given them an orgasm. But Hardiman showed nothing: she just stood up and started putting on her uniform. I might have been a robot, or a vibrating machine. Not a half-friendly look, not an acknowledgement did she give. Until, with one hand on the door, she reached inside the front pocket of her jacket, pulled out a bar of chocolate, and tossed it down onto the bed.
She was gone before I could thank her. I clutched at the chocolate, looked at it in disbelief – then clasped it to my breast as though it were my newborn child.
I was still clutching the chocolate when Rose returned.
"You look as though you've been through it," she said. "Want to talk about it?"
I shook my head. Then instead of answering I held out the chocolate bar.
"Chloe!" she exclaimed. "You got it. Oh, that's fantastic: and a whole bar!"
She came to the bed and hugged me.
"God Chloe," she said "I didn't really expect it. And a whole bar." Then a shadow ran across her face:
"Can I see it Chloe?" she said.
I handed over the chocolate, puzzled. Rose scrutinised the wrapper, then pushed out the foil-covered chocolate an inch or so, folded back a flap of the foil, and held it to her nose.
"It's OK," she said, smiling again. "It is real chocolate. After that misunderstanding in the showers I had to be sure."
"Eight squares," I said, for I had run my fingers over the wrapper and counted the outlines of the squares. Four for me to give Prana, and four for you."
"Oh no," said Rose. "You've earned it: and by the look of you it was hard earned. You keep the other four."
"If it wasn't for you there wouldn't be any chocolate," I said. "You take the other four."
"No," said Rose. "But if you take my advice you won't eat any yet. There are things more worth having than chocolate. Take it with you this afternoon and see if you can get some shampoo. The rate is usually two squares for one of those little bottles. If you get some shampoo I won't say no to a squeeze."
"I'll do that," I said, already making up my mind to get one bottle for myself and one for Rose. Then I hastily shoved the chocolate under my pillow as the lunch trolley clattered through the door.
After lunch I felt better. I brushed my teeth to try to get rid of the lingering taste of Hardiman's anus, and then I managed to fall asleep. When I awoke Rose told me to put on my clothes.
"Exercise isn't like showers," she said. "You won't get everybody groping you: for a start, everyone has to wear their uniform; for another it's often too cold. We use it more as a chance to barter: everyone who wants to trade takes their stuff there."
"How do we carry things?" I asked, for there were no pockets in our uniforms.
"You can carry them in your hands," said Rose: "it's not against the rules to trade. But sometimes it's better to keep things hidden, not let on what you've got. You can put stuff inside your bra or down your knickers. Or down your socks at a pinch. I'd put the chocolate inside your knickers, it's more secure. Just make sure it doesn't melt. Oh, and watch out for contraband."
"What's contraband?"
"Stuff that's been taken from the kitchens. The women who work there are searched before they leave, but they find ways. Just remember: if you fancy a carrot it's probably been inside somebody's fanny."
So when the cell doors were unlocked I stuffed the chocolate down the front of my knickers and joined the line of women in the corridor.
As before showers there was a buzz of excitement in the air. We were marched down a succession of corridors, through doors I'd never been through before, until I felt sharp, fresh air on my face, and we were outside.
It was almost a week since I had seen natural light, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. It was a fresh sort of day, with clouds chasing each other across the March sunshine. My bare legs felt chilled, but pleasantly so. It hit me with a pang of regret: what I had been missing all this time.
The Exercise Yard was a wire cage, about the size of four tennis courts. Wire mesh sides about twelve feet high supported a wire mesh roof. The Wardens were again out in force: when everybody had entered the pen, Dawes locked the steel doors. A couple of foam footballs were available, and some of the girls started tossing them around. There was chatter and excitement and an aura of pent-up energy being released. Some of the women were cuddling: a few paired off, took themselves off to the far end, and began kissing and sticking their hands up each-other's skirts.
Rose had drifted away with some friends. I looked for Prana, but could not see her in the throng. I decided to walk around the perimeter, for no other reason than the fact that I could, and was half-way round when Wilson, the skinhead, made a bee line for me.
"So what you brought me?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said.
"That's not very friendly, is it?" she said, and now that Rose had mentioned it I noticed the gap in her top front teeth. "Nothing in your bra or knickers then?"
"Get off me," I said, as she put her arms round me from behind and started patting my tits."
"Make me," she said nastily. Then roughly she pushed up my skirt, groped inside my knickers and yanked out my chocolate bar.
"Give that back, it's mine," I cried.
"Finders keepers," she said with a nasty grin. "A whole bar too: it's my lucky day."
"Please give it me back," I said, tears coming to my eyes.
"Oh, it's 'please' now is it?" she said. "Not a chance darling."
She would have walked away with it, but in desperation I snatched at the chocolate, and managed to regain it. I would have run, but quick as lightening she grabbed my arm and began to twist it.
"Let go of the chocolate or I'll break your stupid little arm," she growled.
"I can't," I wailed: "I've promised half of it to Prana. If you take it she'll tell Megan and there'll be a riot."
"Are you threatening me?" Wilson demanded.
"No," I protested, "I'm just telling you the truth. Look, I'll give you half. If you take half and leave me half I won't say anything. I promise."
Wilson glowered at me: her face creased with a succession of thoughts like the face of a child struggling with algebra. She'd already wrested the chocolate from me: now, abruptly, she snapped it in two, tore the wrapping off one of the halves, and, making sure I was watching, broke it into four and one after another crammed all four squares in her mouth. When she had chewed and swallowed them, she frowned at the other half then thrust it back at my chest.
"I've had my finger up you," she said. "Just remember that."
I turned and ran away.
"Watch Out!" somebody shouted.
"Catch it!" shouted somebody else. A foam football came sailing towards me, hit me on the shoulder and bounced away. "Come and join in," called a woman I half-recognised from the showers.
"Later," I called. There was nothing I fancied more than a mad chase after a ball, but I could hardly run with the chocolate in my knickers, and I desperately wanted to give it to Prana before anymore mishaps could occur. I wormed my way through a cluster of women who were haggling over items laid out on the ground. I saw packets of biscuits, an orange, hair-slides and hair-bands, shampoo and perfume, a hair brush, chocolate and crisps. I looked for someone I could recognise, but with their hair dry and their uniforms on everybody looked unfamiliar.
"My my, aren't you a girl's wet dream, even with your clothes on?" someone said, as an arm was coiled around my waist. "Fancy earning a hairband?"
"Maybe later," I said.
"She'd rather have a banana, wouldn't you love?" said a second woman, of about sixty."
"Wouldn't we all!" exclaimed the first.
I twisted away, and found Prana chatting at the end of the pen, with Megan and a few others.
"Chloe," she said, running towards me. Again she gave that little hands-together bow of greeting, which I returned.
"Chloe: it is so good to see you," she said. "But you are looking unhappy: why is this?"
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her: but I'd promised Wilson I would say nothing, and dreaded the trouble that might ensue if I broke my word.
"It's nothing," I said: "just a bit of a row."
"A bit of a row? Is this anything we can help with?"
"No, Prana," I said. "It's nothing: I'm fine now."
"That is good," said Prana: and she put her arms around me and gave me a hug.
"I've got something for you," I said. And I reached down into my knickers and pulled out the chocolate."
"Chloe, this is wonderful, thank you," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "I love chocolate, I cannot have too much."
She waved the chocolate at Megan, who was leaning against the mesh – I had a hunch that Megan never played ball. The other women nodded at me.
"It's so good to see you Prana," I said.
"You too Chloe, you too," Prana said. "And now I must eat a piece of this lovely chocolate you've brought for me."
She held the bar up to her nose and sniffed sensuously, closing her eyes as she did so. Then she peeled back the wrapper, and the foil. And then her expression changed.
At first she frowned in puzzlement; then, as she peeled back the wrapper completely and held the chocolate in front of her, her face turned into a mask of rage.
"Why have you given me this shit?" she demanded. "You tried to cheat me: you are a sick, poisonous little girl."
Before I could get out a word, before I could even take in what was happening, a stinging slap caught me on the cheek, and I was so take aback I fell backwards onto the ground.
"Cheat; scum; fucking little bitch:" Prana was screaming at me like a fury: her hair was wild, her eyes were blazing, and following up the blow she threw the bar of chocolate at me then hurled herself on top of me, pinned me down with her knees either side of my head, grabbed hold of my hair and was screaming insults into my face, shaking my head, spitting at me like a tigress whose cubs have been threatened.
"Help me," I yelled: I had absolutely no idea what I'd done, only that this girl who seconds ago had been my friend was spitting insults at me and trying to tear out my hair. I twisted my head: I saw Rose running towards us: then another figure was on the scene: a strong hand gripped Prana's wrist, an arm was hooked around Prana's waist and she was lifted clean off me, still screaming, and restrained.
I was too stunned to move. Rose was kneeling by my side, asking me if I was alright; my face stung, my hair was dishevelled, my skirt had ridden up to my waist, and a crowd of women had gathered at the scene.
"Now what's this all about?" asked Megan, who still had a restraining arm around Prana.
"I don't know," I wailed. "She just turned on me for no reason."
"She tried to trick me," shouted Prana, who was panting heavily. "She owed me chocolate: she tried to give me that shit instead."
"I gave you chocolate," I cried. "What's wrong with it?"
"The bitch tried to give me laxative," Prana yelled.
"What?" I exclaimed.
Rose picked up the chocolate. She looked at it, sniffed at it, and looked puzzled. Prana snatched it out of her hand, and brandished it in front of the watching crowd.
"It looks like chocolate," she said. "But it is laxative. Look at the markings."
Megan took the chocolate, let go of Prana, and examined the bar.
"It's laxative chocolate," she said, giving me a very hard look.
"I didn't know," I protested. "I had no idea."
"Show me," said Rose.
Megan showed her the chocolate: "Here," she said, pointing: "it looks like ordinary chocolate: you can tell by the imprint here. We've seen them before."
"But it's in an ordinary wrapper," said Rose.
"Somebody's switched them," shrugged Megan: again she gave me a look that chilled me to the core.
"She switched them," said Prana, extending her arm and pointing at me. "Stinking little bitch switched them to cheat me."
"Let her speak," said Megan.
"I didn't know," I said. "I didn't switch wrappers, how could I? I had no idea. Hardiman gave it to me. Honestly," I went on, tears in my eyes. "I wouldn't cheat anybody least of all Prana. I swear I didn't know."
Megan and Prana looked at each other. Megan said to Rose:
"Is this true?"
"Yes," said Rose. "Hardiman gave her the chocolate. She had no idea what it was. I looked at it myself: I had no idea either."
"Get up," said Megan.
Rose helped me to my feet.
"She's telling the truth," said Megan. Prana looked down at her feet; she began twisting her hands, one hand in the other: she looked like a shamefaced child who has just been caught doing wrong.
"Chloe," she said. "I am sorry. I thought you tried to cheat me."
"I would never cheat you," I said, sobbing.
"I know that now: but so many people lie and cheat: I have a nasty temper when I think someone is trying to cheat me. I am truly sorry."
"It's all right," I said.
Her head still bowed Prana came up to me: then she looked up at me, and touched her hand to my cheek. I flinched.
"I've hurt you Chloe: can you ever forgive me?"
"Yes," I said. "I understand: if I'd been you I'd have done the same."
"You are very understanding Chloe: but you do not tell truth: if you had been me you would not have done this, because you are a much, much better person than I."
"Prana," said. "I'm just glad we've cleared things up." I put my arms round her and we hugged. Over Prana's shoulder I saw Rose watching me, looking displeased.
"I'll get you some proper chocolate Prana," I said, letting go.
"No no," said Prana. "No chocolate. Finished."
"OK, "I said.
We separated. I think we both felt very sheepish. I wasn't sure what to do next when Megan fixed me with another of her looks and said:
"How much chocolate did Hardiman give you?"
I hesitated, because I could see at once where this might lead, but there was no way of avoiding it.
"A bar," I said.
"A bar. Eight squares?"
"Yes."
"So where are the other four squares?"
Again I hesitated.
"I gave them to somebody," I said.
"Who?"
"I can't say," I said.
Both Megan and Prana stirred at this.
"Chloe," said Prana, a little less warmly: "this is important: because if you ate any of that chocolate you would have known it was laxative, and then if you still gave this to me – "
"She didn't," said Rose sharply. "She had the whole bar with her when we came out. She was going to try to trade for shampoo. Besides, if she knew it was laxative she'd hardly try to palm it off on you."
"OK," said Prana. "I am only asking."
"Is that what you did," asked Rose: "trade for shampoo?"
"No," I said.
"Chloe," said Prana: "you must tell us: if somebody has this chocolate and doesn't realise it is laxative there will be much trouble."
"I gave it to somebody. That is, somebody took it off me. But I promised I wouldn't tell."
"Who took it Chloe?" Megan's expression left me in no doubt I had to tell.
"Wilson," I said.
"Wilson?" exclaimed Prana. "Wilson the skinhead?"
Megan whistled, long and low.
"Yes," I said. And then I told the whole story, how Wilson had cornered me, how I had only managed to keep half the bar by telling her it was for Prana.
"Chloe," said Prana: "what did Wilson do with the chocolate?"
"She ate it," I said.
"All four squares?" asked Rose.
"Yes," I said. "She stuffed it into her mouth in front of me and swallowed it."
Prana and Megan looked at each other. For the first time since I'd known her a semblance of a grin cracked Megan's face. Rose too was smiling. But Prana was literally jumping up and down with delight.
"Chloe," she said. "This is brilliant. This is wonderful. She will shit her pants. She will shit herself day and night. She will shit out all her fat racist guts. Chloe, you are a genius: this is the best thing that has ever happened in prison." She came up to me and hugged me over and again, an expression of mischievous, childlike glee on her face. The few women who had remained after the fight was over were also laughing. I couldn't help being buoyed up by their excitement - but I was scared as well.
"She'll kill me when she finds out," I said.
"No Chloe," said Prana. "She thinks I had half the chocolate, so when she comes to me I will say I ate it and was OK. Maybe I'll say Megan had a square and was OK?" She turned to Megan for confirmation, and Megan nodded. "She is very stupid Chloe: she will think the Wardens put laxative in her lunch – sometimes they do this."
"She's not that stupid," said Rose. "Even she will make the connection."
"If she does, what can she say?" said Prana. "She took the chocolate – Chloe did not want to give it to her. Chloe will be safe."
"That's easy for you to say," said Rose. "It's not your neck on the block."
"Wilson won't touch her," said Megan.
I breathed a little easier:
"How long does it take to act?" I asked.
"One square, about half and hour," said Megan. "Four squares – who knows?"
"Where is Wilson?" asked Rose. We looked around, and quickly spotted the bulky skinhead amongst the ballplayers. Even as I looked I saw her barge into one of the West Indian girls, and any vestige of charity I might have felt towards her disappeared.
"There'll be fireworks soon," said Rose.
In fact it seemed as though the fireworks were about to begin: for once, then a second time, Wilson paused in her pursuit of the ball, leaned forward, touched her hands to her belly, and looked around, puzzled. "Ball," somebody shouted, as the ball headed her way: but instead of making for the ball, she turned her back on the game and began lumbering towards the furthest corner of the pen. There was only one person in the vicinity – Fatima, the Muslim girl, who was crouched against the wire with her head to her knees. Wilson pulled her up by the shoulder and shoved her away; then she yanked urgently at her skirt and struggled to get her knickers off. In her haste her knickers caught around one ankle, she half lost her balance, put out a hand to steady herself: and then, although it was too far away to hear her distinctly, we could tell from a curse and an angry gesture that it was too late. She steadied herself, leaning into the corner of the pen, looked down at her knickers which were still trapped around one ankle: and then the bottom began to drop out of her world. Gathering her skirt around her waist, she shat again. Prana was delirious with joy:
"Look at her!" she exclaimed. "It is working Chloe, look!"
For several minutes we watched: Wilson's posture told the whole tale: she squatted; she stood up; she clasped her stomach; she leaned forward; she shat again.
Then a whistle blew:
"End of exercise," a voice boomed. "Get into line."
Grudgingly we began to form a line – everyone except Wilson who remained in the corner, oblivious. Hardiman walked past us, pointed to her and shouted something to Clark and Mrs Tiggywinkle, who went striding across the pen. We watched as they approached Wilson: there was an exchange of words, which we couldn't make out, then Clark and Mrs Tiggywinkle looked at each other nonplussed. And no wonder: it was one thing being sent to round-up an errant prisoner: but if that prisoner was squatting in a corner shitting out her guts, what could they do? After a brief consultation they came striding back across the pen and spoke to Hardiman.
Hardiman looked grim. Any minute now the order would be given for us to start walking back, but we were desperate to see how this panned out. Hardiman shouted for Dawes: Dawes arrived, and after another brief consultation the two of them went striding off towards Wilson. More words were shouted: for a moment it seemed even Dawes and Hardiman were at a loss. Then from her squatting position Wilson stretched out her arm and pointed across towards me. Hardiman and Dawes walked about half way back towards us then Hardiman shouted my name:
"Littlehayes: Here."
With awful trepidation I went to my fate.
"What did you do with that chocolate I gave you?" Hardiman demanded.
"I – I gave half to Wilson Sir," I said. "That is – Wilson took it off me. I had no choice Sir."
"Where's the other half?" asked Dawes.
"Megan's got it Sir," I said. "She – she knows what it is, Sir."
And then, of all the improbable happenings that day, what happened next was the most improbable of all: Hardiman and Dawes looked at each other: and they started to laugh.
"All right Littlehayes," said Hardiman. "Get back in line."
"Yes Sir – thank you Sir," I said.
I scuttled back to the line. I saw Prana grinning and giving me a thumbs-up sign, which I returned.
"All right?" asked Rose anxiously.
"I think so," I said. "Yes."
The last we all saw, as we filed round the perimeter of the pen, was Wilson's bare backside huddled into the corner, whilst Dawes and Hardiman berated her, and told her she was, amongst other things, a 'stinking fat pile of shit'.
Despite the merriment, Rose seemed subdued when we were back in the cell. Dinner was brought: a baked potato which even the prison kitchens couldn't ruin. But afterwards Rose told me she had a headache and wanted to lie quiet. I watched her take off her skirt and pants, and settle herself down on her stomach, with her head turned to the wall. I could see she had her hand between her legs, but she hardly seemed to be moving.
I lay on my back, and tried to relax, but my mind was buzzing. Never before had so much happened to me in one day: my ordeal with Hardiman; my relief at getting the bar of chocolate; my encounter with Wilson; my pleasure at seeing Prana which quickly turned to anguish, then relief; the spectacle of Wilson shitting herself. It had been a day of roller coaster extremes. My fanny was sore from Hardiman's hand, my cheek still stung from Prana's slap, and I had a bump on the back of my head from my fall, which had swollen painfully. I ran these events over and over: in particular I thought of Prana, trying to make sense of her, trying to fit my latest experience of her with my old. Without my intending it my hand had slid between my legs: just for comfort, no more. I saw Prana hurl herself at me like an avenging fury; I saw her face glowing with delight at Wilson's predicament; I saw again the lovely, sensual girl I'd held in the shower. My fingers were moving of their own accord: I was starting to get wet. Then my reverie was broken by a muffled, sobbing sound.
Rose is bringing herself off again, I thought. But the sound wasn't right, and a quick glance showed me that Rose was crying.
I slipped off my bed and across to her. I looked down at her, her fulsome, pale buttocks and thighs that I had become so fond of. I put my hand on her bottom:
"What is it Rose?" I asked.
For a minute Rose continued to sob into the pillow. I tried to lie on the bed beside her.
"Move up," I said.
She turned onto her side, facing the wall, and I lay behind her, pressed up close, and put my hand over her tummy. I'd come to think of Rose as the ultimate in wisdom and experience, strong, almost indestructible: it was disconcerting to see this vulnerable side.
"Look at me," she said, trying to laugh. "You'd think I'd know better."
"Come on Rose," I said: "what is it?"
"When you've been in here as long as I have," Rose sighed, "you think you've seen every meanness human beings are capable of. But there are always surprises."
"Hardiman?" I asked.
"That stunt with the laxative – that was low, even for Hardiman."
"She hates me Rose: I don't know why, I've never done anything to upset her.
"She hates you because you're bright and because you're a good person: everything she's not and wants to destroy."
"I never told you what she did to me this morning."
"What did she do?"
I told Rose.
"She's sick," Rose said. "That's the trouble – you can't counter that sort of sickness. Do you realise what the consequences of the laxative could have been?"
"We could have been fighting over the bucket?"
"Worse than that. Hardiman knew it was Exercise day. She knew you'd try to trade at least some of that chocolate. It could have gone to anybody. Anybody could have eaten it. And then they'd have been after your blood. It was pure luck it went to somebody who recognised it for what it was"
"Rose," I said, thinking again of the incident. "When I was on the ground – when Prana attacked me – you came running towards me."
"I know," said Rose. "And that's what really scares me."
"Because of Megan?"
"She frightens me Chloe – I don't mind admitting it"
"But – she let me speak. She pulled Prana off and listened to me. She believed me."
"True," said Rose. "But if you'd been lying – or if she hadn't believed you – things could have gone very differently. For both of us. That's what I mean Chloe: ever since I've been here I've tried to keep my head down. I've never conned anybody or antagonised anybody. I think most people here respect me. I've protected myself emotionally, too: I've never let myself get close to anybody or get hurt by anybody. You only get let down in the end, and besides, there hasn't been anybody worth getting close to. Then I forgot myself for a moment – and came within a whisker of landing us both in hospital. It's brought it home to me, Chloe: no matter how carefully you tread in here, you're always walking on very thin ice."
I hugged Rose tightly.
"I'm very touched – and grateful," I said. "But you'd have come to help anyone else in my position, wouldn't you."
"No," said Rose. "I might have come towards them – but I wouldn't have intervened."
"What would have happened if you'd got to Prana first?"
"I don't care to think about it."
"Why didn't the Wardens intervene?"
"They were thinking about it," said Rose. "But unless someone is being half-killed they don't get involved in what they call prisoner squabbles."
"Rose – I don't know what to say. Thank you."
"Some of the people in here are like black holes Chloe. Get close to them and they suck you in, and you never get out again. Please stay away from them if you can."
"I will," I said. "Megan frightens me as well – even though she did right by me today. The way she looks at me scares me."
"Megan isn't the only one," said Rose.
We seemed to have said all that was necessary. The light had now gone out, and I cuddled up to Rose as best as I could on the narrow bed. I tried to show my affection and gratitude by holding her, squeezing her. I ran my hand under her pullover, and down over her warm, soft belly.
"We haven't shaved today you know, she said. "Still, it's too late now. We'll have to do it straight after slops."
"Is there anything I can do for you now?" I asked.
"A rub to send me to sleep would be nice," she said. So I obliged her.