Daisy in Chains(38)

‘He makes things out of coloured paper. Look.’ Like a proud parent, Phil is directing their visitor’s attention towards the narrow, metal window ledge. ‘It’s like having a window box.’

Most often, Wolfe makes flowers. Their simple, regular form makes them amongst the easiest of shapes to create and he is a relative newcomer to origami. Using the coloured paper his mother sends he’s fashioned roses, tulips, chrysanthemums and lilies, that to his mind seem to emphasize the drab squalor of the room, but which nevertheless delight Phil. Other inmates on the block have started to copy their Christmas decorations, fashioning their own chains, which are relatively simple, begging lessons in how to make the baubles, which are not. There have been rumours that the Governor is getting concerned about the fire hazard, is threatening to have the home-made decorations taken down. This worries Wolfe. His chains and baubles are important to him and Phil.

‘What are these about?’ Sedge can’t keep still. He stands below Wolfe’s bookshelf, looking up at the row of paperbacks, seven of them by the same author. ‘Throw the Key Far.’ Sedge spells out the words slowly. ‘A true-life tale of harsh justice, by Maggie Rose.’ He pulls the book from the shelf, oblivious to Wolfe’s glare of annoyance, and opens it at a page marked with a yellow Post-it note. ‘Part . . ., part . . .’ he tries.

‘Participle.’ The tone of Wolfe’s voice makes Phil frown, nervously. ‘She uses the participle sunk, when she really needs the past tense, sank. It’s a common mistake.’

Sedge flicks through the other Post-it notes peering out of the top of the book. ‘So you’ve, like, gone through the whole book, looking for mistakes?’

‘It passes the time,’ says Wolfe.

In the corridor someone is hurting, although not so badly that he doesn’t have the strength to swear and threaten the officers who are trying to contain him. Then he falls silent, and maybe he is hurting that badly now.

‘Can’t get my f*ckin’ ’ead round it.’ Sedge has grown bored with the books and has found Wolfe’s pile of mail on the narrow desk. He’s flicking through the latest batch of coloured, even scented, paper and photographs. ‘Are these bints mental, or what?’

Wolfe is fairly certain that Sedge’s reading ability is limited to the more basic of the graphic novels. Not that he’d care. He feels no need to protect the confidentiality of women he will never meet. ‘You could describe it as a mental disorder,’ he says. ‘But it’s pretty much common to every woman in the world.’

‘You what?’ Sedge says.

‘All women are drawn to the alpha male.’ Wolfe goes back to his folding and twisting. ‘They can’t help themselves. The cleverer ones, the feminists, will deny it, but the evidence is against them.’ He glances up at Sedge, sees no sign of light dawning. ‘It’s instinctive,’ he tries again. ‘The bigger, stronger, smarter men are going to be better at protecting the women and their children. They’ll bring home more food. A man who is capable of killing is the ultimate protector.’

‘Aye, but, like . . .’ Sedge has an idea in his head, is struggling to get it out. ‘You can’t protect any of ’em. You can’t even bring ’em home a takeaway pizza, you’re banged up in here, so how does that work?’

‘It works even better. It makes me a fantasy figure. They can dream about how dark and dangerous I am, with no chance of real life getting in the way. They’ll never find out that, like most blokes, I can be a bit of a twat.’

Phil looks up. This is something he and Wolfe have discussed before. Phil is yet to be convinced. ‘Yeah, but like, my missus, she won’t take shit from no one, especially not me. I just don’t get what you say about birds secretly wanting to be bossed about. It’s the other way round at our gaff.’

‘Jezz, this one is well fit!’ Sedge has pulled a photograph from the pile. Wolfe glances over. It is a selfie, taken in a bedroom. The girl is naked from the waist up.

‘She looks fifteen.’ Wolfe takes it and drops it in the bin. ‘If I could be bothered, I’d send it home to her parents. And we’re talking fantasy here, mate. Just about every erotic film or book going is about a young, innocent woman being dominated by a dangerous man. All women secretly long to be dominated.’ He grins to himself. ‘Especially by a bloke who’s fit and handsome. That’s why I get the letters, you Scotch pillock, and you don’t.’

‘Frigging Nora, look at the tits on this one!’ Sedge probably isn’t listening. He hands another photograph over to Phil who nods, appreciatively. ‘Hamish, mate, why don’t you get some of ’em to visit?’

‘That’s what I keep saying,’ Phil pipes up. ‘He should find one he likes the look of, write to her a few times and get a relationship going. Has to be better than just getting visits from his mum.’

‘Yeah, why not, mate? Don’t you want a woman?’

Hamish smiles to himself and glances up at the calendar on the wall. ‘Maybe I’m waiting for the right woman.’

The flower is finished. Wolfe twirls it between forefinger and thumb.

‘Nice one.’ Phil has given up watching the action on the corridor and comes back to admire the flower. ‘Want me to put it on the ledge?’