Blood Sisters(19)

‘I don’t want to draw Stan, miss. His nose is too big.’

‘Piss off, Wayne. Your ears are small. Just like your …’

‘Language.’ Kurt cuts in. ‘You’re talking in front of a lady.’

‘Teacher’s pet,’ says someone else.

Kurt smirks as though he likes this idea. Although he’s ostensibly always trying to help, I’m uneasy about the way he pops up wherever I go. As for the drumming up of business, is he doing it out of the kindness of his heart or because he’s expecting a favour back? Now I’ve made it worse by confiding in him about Barry.

Maybe I’ll look up Kurt’s crime when I get home. A quick Google. That’s all it takes.

But if I find out he has done something awful, I know I’ll find it difficult to work with him. And, although I don’t want to admit it, I’ve come to need him.

‘Fancy a cup of tea anyone?’ he asks now, interrupting my thoughts.

Grandad – Barry – thumps his mug on the table. I shudder.

There’s a kettle for tea and coffee in the room, even though boiling water is potentially dangerous. An open prison, I am learning, is a maze of contradictions. Criminals can make tea during class. Tea which could scald someone, especially if thrown deliberately. But they can’t have sharp objects. Criminals can go out of the prison to work in those little white vans. But they must be ready to pick up the same van at the allotted spot, so they get back to their cell on time.

Meanwhile, Stefan is concentrating on his drawing. He seems completely absorbed, ignoring all the noise around him. ‘Want to take a look?’ he asks, suddenly glancing up, as though sensing my eyes on him.

I gasp. It’s good. Very good. He has captured the shadowing on my face perfectly. Shadowing is notoriously tough to get right. It almost makes me forget the shock of earlier.

‘Have you drawn before?’ I ask.

‘A long time ago. We do not have artist teachers in the prison I have just left.’

Barry interrupts. ‘Will you put it on the wall for everyone to see? Can my cat pictures go there too?’

Just the sound of his voice freaks me out now I know what he’s done. ‘Let’s see, shall we?’

I turn away and, as I do so, unexpectedly collide with Kurt, knocking the mug of tea from his hand. Luckily, it’s not scalding hot, but it has stained my white top. Blast. I scrabble for some wet wipes which I know I have in my drawer somewhere.

Out of nowhere, there’s an ear-piercing scream.

‘Jesus! I’ve been fucking stabbed!’

For a minute, I think it’s a joke. One of them messing around.

Then my blood chills.

Barry is lying, face upwards, on the ground. Howling in agony. There’s a pair of scissors by his side. The same scissors I’d cut up the paper with before class started. I stumble towards him. All around me the men are jumping up.

My ears ring with shock. My skin sweats. My heart thumps so hard that it’s like having a weighty pendulum in my chest. No. This can’t be happening. It can’t.

Barry’s left eye is staring glassily at me. The right is a red pool of dark crimson blood gushing down the side of his face.





10


November 2016


Kitty


The dentist fucking hurt.

‘Hold her down, will you?’ he kept saying to the nurse.

‘I can’t. Not while she’s lashing out at me like this.’

I’m not being difficult, Kitty wanted to say. I’m trying to tell you that you’re bruising my lip.

But it was impossible to talk with all this stuff in her mouth. And even if she did, he wouldn’t understand her. She should be used to this by now, Kitty told herself.

But Johnny could guess her thoughts. More or less. She also loved the fact that his own teeth weren’t great either. They stuck out at strange angles and had a big thick silver band on them.

‘Hold her down firmer please.’ The dentist’s voice now had a hint of desperation in it. ‘Otherwise the impression isn’t going to fit.’

‘Can you sit still, dear?’ The nurse’s voice was softer. A bit wet and wishy-washy. It reminded Kitty of Friday Mum, who hadn’t visited for a few Fridays now. ‘Try thinking of something nice.’

Johnny.

Beating the flabby-faced man into a pulp. Just like they did on telly.

‘That’s better,’ said the nurse encouragingly. ‘Now the dentist can do his job properly. Well done, Kitty!’

Not long now until she’d be sitting next to Johnny. His kiss was safely inside her pocket. She’d caught it in the air with her good hand.

‘All done now. Good girl.’

Kitty glowed. Not many people called her a good girl. ‘Challenging’ was one of Bossy Supervisor’s favourite phrases. ‘Chatterbox’ was another (usually from one of the carers). ‘Pretty,’ Johnny had said just before she’d left. The carers had put her in a brown checked dress that Friday Mum had brought in on her last visit. ‘The Super says you need to look nice for the dentist.’ Had Johnny meant that it was just the dress that was pretty? Or her too? Would he mind that the dress was covered in bloody spit because she refused to wear the dental bib?

All the way back in the van, Kitty hoped and hoped that Johnny would be there to meet her like he’d promised. Hummm. Hummm.