The Dead Ex(70)

‘Is there a mother-and-baby unit?’

‘No.’

‘OK.’ I felt slightly more reassured.

‘But there should be. And that’s partly why we’ve picked you, Vicki. We want you to start one.’

My skin went cold. I could see all too clearly Sam Taylor’s body lying on that cell floor.

We’re the forgotten island.

‘Here’s the thing, Vicki.’ My boss took in my expression. ‘The government’s been embarrassed by some of the inmate revolts. It’s prepared to spend some money – providing we can get the right person to turn it round.’

‘Is there a psychologist in the prison?’

‘Well, there’s the usual medical staff. Doctor on call. Resident nurses.’

‘I want one.’ I heard my voice coming out cool and clear. ‘Someone who specializes in family relationships.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘No.’ I could hardly believe I was speaking like this. ‘I will only go if I have a definite “yes”.’

He looked annoyed.

‘And if there isn’t one?’

‘Then I will have to consider my future in the prison service.’

It was a gamble. But it paid off.

The mother-and-baby unit was opened to fanfare in the press.

One journalist wrote a profile of me in a national tabloid, describing me as the ‘driving force’. He declared that I ‘wasn’t afraid to do a fair job’ and mentioned how I’d suspended a prison officer in possession of a mobile phone, made sure that smokers weren’t housed with non-smokers and initiated regular drug tests, which had become infrequent because of staff shortages. It meant more employees had to work overtime (including me), but it reduced the number of offences.

When an anonymous cartoon caricature of me arrived in the internal mail, I pinned it up on the staff noticeboard to pretend I didn’t care – even though the sender had portrayed me as being at least three sizes larger than I was, with hairs sprouting out of my chin.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ said Jackie. I’d asked her to come along with me from the old prison along with Frances, another high-ranking prison officer whom I trusted.

‘No point in hiding anything,’ I said. ‘I’d rather embarrass them than pretend it hadn’t happened.’

Besides, I wasn’t there to be popular. I was there to do a fair job. All too often I’d seen prison staff flaunt their power and sometimes abuse it. It was a crowd mentality thing: only a few had to do it before others followed suit. It was why I’d initiated an investigation into two officers who had punched an inmate in ‘self-defence’, even though his cellmate swore it was because they’d demanded his cigarettes and he’d refused to hand them over.

But the most important achievement in these prison changes was my appointment of Patrick Miles as the psychologist.

He’d stood out amongst the applicants not just because of his credentials but because of his empathy. ‘The bond between mother and baby is stronger than any other,’ he’d told me during his interview. ‘It’s inhuman to break it and then expect both to carry on as though they had never been joined together.’

‘Is it possible for the mother to cope?’ I asked.

‘Yes, but only with the right counselling and care.’ Then, to my embarrassment, he’d glanced at my left hand.

‘I don’t have children myself,’ I said quickly, checking his CV. Marital status: single.

I took a deep breath. ‘I knew a woman who hanged herself because she couldn’t face being separated from her toddler.’

He nodded. ‘I read about that. In your last prison, wasn’t it? A Samantha Taylor?’

So he’d done his homework.

‘She had no one to talk to?’ he asked.

‘Just the other women.’

He shook his head. It was a kind face, I thought, with lines around those dark brown eyes which might have come from laughter or sadness. Then he ran a hand through his short black curly hair as if expressing frustration. ‘They can do more harm than good. Where I worked before, there was great jealousy amongst mothers who were about to lose their children and those who still had some months to go. We will have to be very careful.’

‘You speak as though you have already got the job.’

‘I apologize.’ He spread out his hands. His nails were neatly clipped, I noticed. ‘I am, as usual, being carried away by my enthusiasm.’

It was catching. As I found out to my cost.





36



Helen

5 January 2018


I didn’t see much of David last month because he was away on business in the States and then apparently he took his wife to the Maldives for Christmas. My own Christmas was busy with family stuff. One of the geeks from the IT department at work asked me to a New Year party, but I told him I was already going out with a friend. The truth was that I needed to think.

David’s absence made me nervous. There was still so much I needed to do. It was like letting a slippery fish off the hook, hoping that it would come back so I could finish the job.

When he did return a few days ago, he was cool with me, declaring that I would have to do some general admin ‘as well as taking those pictures of yours’ in order to pull my weight.