The Dead Ex(79)

Patrick and I were on the way to see a new ‘tricky’ inmate. I remembered her from 2008 in a previous posting. She was the woman who had been fighting with Sam Taylor that day – someone I still can’t get out of my head. Like poor Sam, she’d been separated from her child a few months later and had blamed me for it, even though it was the rules. I’d tried to help her with extra counselling, but the woman had taken out her grief by lashing out at whoever was nearest, accusing me of ‘picking on her’. This wasn’t true although I did have to send her to solitary for hitting another woman. I felt bad, but you had to be fair in this job.

Now she was back – and as angry as ever. To make it worse, she’d recently managed to get into the mother-and-baby unit by escaping from her work party and pretending to be one of the cleaners. ‘I only want to cuddle the babies,’ she’d told the officers who found her there. But when they’d tried to make her leave, she’d bitten one of them.

She was punished by having visiting privileges removed and a spell in solitary.

‘Imagine never seeing your child again,’ I found myself saying to him on our way to see her. Then I stopped, appalled by my blunder.

‘It’s all right.’ He bit his lip. ‘I’m coming to terms with it; more than when we last worked together. Time is a great healer. You never forget, but you learn to live with it.’

We were approaching the security gate now to A wing. All personal chit-chat had to stop. We signed in. The officer looked serious. ‘You’ll need someone with you. Been sounding off all day, she has.’

‘I’m sure we can manage,’ I said briskly. What sort of message would it send if a prison governor needed hand-holding?

Other women lined the corridors as Patrick and I made our way to the cell. Some called out to me. ‘Guv? I need to talk to you. My kid’s foster parents want to adopt him even though me mum says she’ll have him. Can you help me?’

‘Guv? They won’t let my other kids visit cos they say I’m a risk. At this rate, they won’t bloody recognize me when I get out.’

‘Guv …’

We knocked on the cell door, more out of courtesy than anything else. Then I unlocked it from the outside. Zelda was sitting on the narrow bed, her long hair greased and matted. She had scratches all down her arms, which I suspected were from her own fingernails.

‘You!’ she roared, leaping up. ‘You took away my daughter.’

‘That’s enough,’ Patrick started, but I put my hand up in a let me handle this gesture.

‘I didn’t do it personally,’ I said firmly. ‘You know that. We went through it before at the time. Children over the age of eighteen months can’t be with their mothers in prison. They have to be fostered or adopted or brought up by a member of the family. I understand your distress. I really do.’

‘Do you have kids?’ Her eyes were glaring like a wild animal’s.

‘No, but …’

‘Then you don’t know what it’s like to lose one. To not feel that soft cheek against yours or a little pair of arms around you. I know I did wrong but why do the kids have to be punished too? What kind of law separates a mother from a child? You say it’s not your fault but you’re the one with power. Do something about it.’

‘I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s the law.’

‘Then make someone change it.’

Her eyes were red. Raw. Angry. I couldn’t even look at Patrick, who had remained silent. Then I remembered what he’d once told me. Sometimes you just have to listen. I felt a wave of grief as I thought of poor Samantha Taylor. ‘Can’t you even say anything to me? Stuck-up bitch.’ Then suddenly Zelda lunged towards me.

Thanks to my training, I was faster. I caught her hand before it had a chance to hit me, placing it in the restraining position.

‘Officers,’ yelled Patrick.

It was all over in seconds.

‘Are you all right?’ my friend and colleague asked me, briefly touching my shoulder in concern as we walked away.

I nodded, quaking inside. But if I’d known what the repercussions were going to be, I’d have run. As far as possible.





42



Helen

31 January 2018


I go into the office early before anyone else, knowing that David often did the same. This isn’t a conversation I want anyone else to overhear.

‘Hi,’ he says, looking up from his desk. ‘Didn’t you get my text, asking if you wanted to come over last night?’

‘Sorry. I was calling my parents.’

My fingers are clammy. There’s an odd taste in my mouth. ‘The thing is, I was asking their advice. But really I should have just asked you.’

‘Fire away.’ He looks flattered.

‘I’m pregnant.’

Immediately he leaps to his feet, face tight with anger. ‘You silly little girl. If you think you’re going to trap me like that, you’re mistaken. Anyway, we always used something.’

‘Not the last time we did it,’ I point out quietly.

‘That was only a few weeks ago.’

‘I know, but I was feeling strange and I did a test. I did a few. Believe me, I don’t want to be pregnant either.’