or Cole as Kara soon found she was commonly known, looked Kara up and down. ‘Who did ya hurt?’
‘My neighbour.’
‘Why? Did she fuck ya ol’ man?’
Colette was getting excited. She was bored, and this young woman might have something interesting to make the daily grind of prison life actually bearable for once. Colette loved aggro. It was in her DNA. Not only did she want to hear all the gory details, she needed to size up this Kara bitch. For all she knew, she could be a raving nutter, sharing her cell.
‘I don’t know. I, er … I mean, I can’t remember exactly what happened.’
Colette frowned and thought it best to back off. If this posh bird couldn’t remember what she’d done, then she didn’t want to be the one who suffered from a red-mist moment at the hands of a fucking psycho.
‘Right, Posh, lights are out in twenty minutes, so you’d better sort ya shit out and no fucking snoring. I ’ate noise, when I’m trying ta sleep. The last bird cried all night, and I swear to God, I gave her something to cry about, so no blubbering, right?’
Kara took a few deep breaths as if she was trying to stop herself from being sick. ‘I don’t snore, and I won’t cry, but I might be sick. I have a virus I picked up from abroad.’
Colette noticed the girl’s face looked almost grey. She pointed to the toilet tucked in the corner. ‘Use that, and I swear, if ya fucking puke anywhere near me, I’ll make sure you fucking eat my next shit.’
Kara’s lower lip trembled. The tension was so hostile and downright scary. Suddenly, the light went out and she had to feel her way around the cell. Running her hands along the bed and to the small partitioned wall, she finally found the place she wanted. Kneeling beside the chrome toilet, she hoped beyond hope that she wouldn’t be sick anywhere near her cellmate.
For over an hour, Kara gripped the basin, with nothing but the tremendous feeling of guilt for company. She just couldn’t get Mrs Langley off her mind; it was eating away at her. Silently, she prayed for the poor woman’s full recovery. The nausea was relentless, so she sat on the hard floor with her chin resting on the stinking toilet bowl until she felt her head nod as she began to drift off to sleep.
The sickly feeling at last receded, so she crept onto her hard bed and entered the world of darkness. In no time at all, a loud sound pulled her from her nightmares. Doors were opening, and the small room lit up. Colette was rolling a cigarette, her fat tongue sliding along the sides of the rolling paper before she stuck it together. She didn’t look at Kara but just jumped up and left, with the cigarette in her mouth.
Kara sat upright, trying to get her bearings; everything was still surreal. The night before when she was in reception, the officers were reeling off so much information, she couldn’t take it all in. It was something about breakfast, showers, jobs, and times.
A few minutes later, in the doorway, a tall woman with wild black hair, grinning from ear-to-ear, was showing a neat row of gold teeth. Kara couldn’t work out if she was black or white. Her features were African, but her skin was milky, and her eyes were green. Kara was uncomfortable because the woman’s gaze was anything but welcoming.
‘Cole tells me ya burned ya house down, fucked up the neighbour, ’cos she fucked ya ol’ man.’ She had her hands on the doorframe and was gently swinging in and out of the cell.
A bead of sweat trickled down Kara’s back and her face flushed. She recognised that feeling. The sickness was coming up, and this time she couldn’t hold it. Ignoring the tall woman, she leaped from the bed and hurled her stomach contents down the toilet. As she pulled away, she noticed how disgusting the toilet actually was and then remembered she’d been leaning on it for some time during the night. With that thought in mind, she heaved again. There was nothing left to bring up.
With wobbly legs, she tried to stand up and had to grip the wall. As she turned, she saw the small sink and leaned heavily, bowing her head and catching her breath. She turned on the taps and ran her hot face under the flowing water, whilst slurping mouthfuls of the cold liquid. She spat twice and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Falling back onto her bed, she glanced up at the woman in the doorway. The ordeal had no doubt made her own eyes bloodshot and evil-looking.
Kara took a deep breath. ‘What did you say?’ she tried to sound friendly, but her voice was hoarse and her expression demonic. The woman stopped swaying on the doorframe and stepped back, as if unsure what to make of Kara.
At that moment, the inmate was shoved away from the entrance to the cell and in her place stood a square-shouldered, tall, and heavily built screw, as they called them. Kara should have been relieved. Weren’t they the good guys?
‘Bannon, you’re supposed to be back at reception!’ the screw growled, her voice deep and husky. ‘Get up and follow me.’ Kara naively expected the officer to be less harsh and less manly. It was the big tits that gave her sex away. Dressed in the prison sweats, Kara dragged herself up, still shaking, and stepped forward. The screw huffed, ‘Jesus, woman, what’s the fucking matter with ya? Get a wriggle on. I ain’t got all day!’
Kara gulped back a breath, hoping she could get enough oxygen to her brain to stay upright and walk on. Outside the cell, she noticed prisoners bustling from one place to another, all on some kind of mission. She tried to keep her head down, too afraid of making eye contact with anyone. This was so far detached from anything else she’d ever experienced, that it was hard to stomach. Even her first day at boarding school wasn’t this intimidating. The banging and clanking of keys and doors was a stark call of reality to the situation.
As the officer marched ahead, Kara noticed the inmates looked away. The officer was the one who called the shots – that was a given. As they approached the end of the landing, an inmate, who was standing in the doorway of her cell, swiftly stepped out and unexpectedly pinched Kara’s arse and whistled. A fear crushed her, and she could feel the tears welling up.
No, this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. How would she ever survive? She wasn’t gay, she wasn’t streetwise, and she certainly wasn’t hard. She felt the tear trickle down her face and quickly she wiped it away. The screw unlocked the end door and pushed her through, locking it behind her. They marched down the stairs and along another hallway, until, finally, they were in the reception area. Kara was too afraid to look at anyone, until she heard a man’s voice. ‘Kara Bannon?’
Slowly, she glanced up and nodded.
There, a tall, dark-haired, and smartly dressed man in his mid-forties, who reminded her of a younger Hugh Bonneville, smiled compassionately, giving Kara a feeling of hope. Please tell me I am going home?
‘You need to fill out this form. They forgot yesterday.’ He spun a piece of paper around on the desk and handed her a pen. The female officer stood by her side like a concrete statue. Kara looked at the form. It had two questions: name and next of kin. She scribbled her name, and on the line below, she wrote ‘no one’.
The male officer took the form from her, and then he raised his eyebrow. ‘You have no next of kin?’
Kara shook her head.
‘What, no parents, partner, brother, sister, or even aunts?’
Kara shook her head again. ‘No one,’ she whispered.
‘Okay, now it was a mad rush yesterday. It
