Blood Sisters(11)

He’s standing between me and the door. Not only are his teeth stained but I can smell his breath. ‘Yeah, but they don’t look as pretty as you, do they, miss?’

I don’t know how to reply. It’s clearly an inappropriate remark. Is he flirting with me? I don’t dare to say anything, though. There’s no one around if he gets angry. Why? This is a prison. Someone should be here. Looking after me. I yearn for the safety of my outside classes: my students like Horse Face, Lead Man and Beryl, who don’t represent any kind of threat.

‘Come on, miss,’ he continues. ‘Aren’t you going to open the door?’

I search for the right key on my black belt. There are three. One for the Education hut, which we’re standing outside. Another for the art room, inside Education. And another for the staffroom, in a different cabin. None has a label. I find the correct one on the third attempt.

‘Lock it behind us,’ purrs Kurt.

I can almost hear the words at my own inquest. The victim locked the door behind her. She willingly walked into the trap.

But according to Sandra the key lady’s instructions, I could get sacked if I don’t.

Relief! There are voices inside. Laughter. Mugs clinking. We’re not the only ones here.

‘Hello! You must be Alison. Just in time for a coffee before we start.’

A jolly-looking woman with jet black hair down to her waist pumps my hand. She has long red glossy nails which seem more suited to a beautician on a cosmetics counter. ‘I’m Angela, the education coordinator. Good to meet you. I’ve never come across a real artist before.’

She’s appraising me as though slightly disappointed. Maybe I should have worn something more colourful than cream and black.

‘Are you famous? They did tell me your name but I have to say it didn’t ring any bells.’

‘Afraid not.’

‘Never mind. We all have to earn our living, don’t we? Builders’ tea?’

‘Do you have peppermint, by any chance?’

She snorts but in a kindly manner. ‘Bog-standard or nothing. If you want something fancy, you have to bring in your own, as long as you can get it past Security. I advise bringing in your own mug too. Ours are all a bit chipped.’

‘You don’t know who’s been drinking from them either,’ adds Kurt.

‘That’s true enough. Kurt here’s the fussiest of us all. Now, let me tell you how this place works.’ Angela sits down heavily on a chair, indicating I should do the same. I can’t help looking at her hair. She’s of an age where many women would choose to cut it. I think back to when I chopped off mine. I was eighteen. It was soon after the accident.

‘The men that come here,’ continues Angela, ‘they might be around for two weeks or two months or two years. If they want to come to Education to improve themselves, they have to go on a list. When they’re accepted, they can take qualifications in maths or English. Nothing fancy like A levels or an Open University degree cos they’re not here for long enough – although if they’ve already started in another prison, they can keep going, provided we’ve got the staff. Which we don’t always have.’

‘Where does art fit in?’

Angela throws a you tell me look. ‘No idea. All I know is that we were told we’d got some kind of grant so we had to have an artist. It’s up to you to put up posters and get your own students here.’

I think back to what Kurt had said about prisoners wanting to come and see me because I’m a woman. ‘Will I have a guard with me?’

‘This is an open prison, love. We don’t have that kind of one-to-one security. Sides, there’s no need. There’s usually someone around in Education. We haven’t had any trouble since …’

Her voice tails off.

‘Since when?’ I ask urgently.

She sighs, looking at me unsurely.

‘Come on, I can handle it.’ I make myself sound braver than I feel. ‘I’d rather know.’

‘OK.’ She speaks slowly and hesitantly. ‘Since one of the men threw boiling water mixed with sugar at someone he didn’t like. Doesn’t happen often, though. Only once since I’ve been here.’

‘Why sugar?’

‘Sticks to the skin.’ She waves her words away as if they shouldn’t have come out in the first place. ‘Now, let’s show you the resources cupboard. There’s some paper there you could use. And felt-tips. That all right for you?’

I spend the rest of the day making posters.

WANT TO LEARN TO PAINT OR DRAW?

I’M THE NEW ARTIST IN RESIDENCE.

SIGN UP IN THE EDUCATION OFFICE FOR MY CLASSES.

Then I do a little drawing of an artist’s easel using the faded felt-tips from the stationery cupboard. It’s the best I can do under the circumstances.

On Angela’s advice, I pin up my posters on the Education hut’s noticeboards and then around the rest of the prison. And I do the same in the staff dining room, where Sandra the key lady is sitting with Angela. ‘Come over here, love, and join us!’

I’m not sure about eating food that’s been cooked by prisoners.

‘I’ve found the odd pube,’ says Sandra, when she sees me pick at my bowl of macaroni cheese. ‘Only kidding! Watch out. You’ve dropped your fork.’