Chloe in Prison Ch. 06

"Look at her!" she exclaimed. "It is working Chloe, look!"

For several minutes we watched: Wilson's posture told the whole tale: she squatted; she stood up; she clasped her stomach; she leaned forward; she shat again.

Then a whistle blew:

"End of exercise," a voice boomed. "Get into line."

Grudgingly we began to form a line – everyone except Wilson who remained in the corner, oblivious. Hardiman walked past us, pointed to her and shouted something to Clark and Mrs Tiggywinkle, who went striding across the pen. We watched as they approached Wilson: there was an exchange of words, which we couldn't make out, then Clark and Mrs Tiggywinkle looked at each other nonplussed. And no wonder: it was one thing being sent to round-up an errant prisoner: but if that prisoner was squatting in a corner shitting out her guts, what could they do? After a brief consultation they came striding back across the pen and spoke to Hardiman.

Hardiman looked grim. Any minute now the order would be given for us to start walking back, but we were desperate to see how this panned out. Hardiman shouted for Dawes: Dawes arrived, and after another brief consultation the two of them went striding off towards Wilson. More words were shouted: for a moment it seemed even Dawes and Hardiman were at a loss. Then from her squatting position Wilson stretched out her arm and pointed across towards me. Hardiman and Dawes walked about half way back towards us then Hardiman shouted my name:

"Littlehayes: Here."

With awful trepidation I went to my fate.

"What did you do with that chocolate I gave you?" Hardiman demanded.

"I – I gave half to Wilson Sir," I said. "That is – Wilson took it off me. I had no choice Sir."

"Where's the other half?" asked Dawes.

"Megan's got it Sir," I said. "She – she knows what it is, Sir."

And then, of all the improbable happenings that day, what happened next was the most improbable of all: Hardiman and Dawes looked at each other: and they started to laugh.

"All right Littlehayes," said Hardiman. "Get back in line."

"Yes Sir – thank you Sir," I said.

I scuttled back to the line. I saw Prana grinning and giving me a thumbs-up sign, which I returned.

"All right?" asked Rose anxiously.

"I think so," I said. "Yes."

The last we all saw, as we filed round the perimeter of the pen, was Wilson's bare backside huddled into the corner, whilst Dawes and Hardiman berated her, and told her she was, amongst other things, a 'stinking fat pile of shit'.

Despite the merriment, Rose seemed subdued when we were back in the cell. Dinner was brought: a baked potato which even the prison kitchens couldn't ruin. But afterwards Rose told me she had a headache and wanted to lie quiet. I watched her take off her skirt and pants, and settle herself down on her stomach, with her head turned to the wall. I could see she had her hand between her legs, but she hardly seemed to be moving.

I lay on my back, and tried to relax, but my mind was buzzing. Never before had so much happened to me in one day: my ordeal with Hardiman; my relief at getting the bar of chocolate; my encounter with Wilson; my pleasure at seeing Prana which quickly turned to anguish, then relief; the spectacle of Wilson shitting herself. It had been a day of roller coaster extremes. My fanny was sore from Hardiman's hand, my cheek still stung from Prana's slap, and I had a bump on the back of my head from my fall, which had swollen painfully. I ran these events over and over: in particular I thought of Prana, trying to make sense of her, trying to fit my latest experience of her with my old. Without my intending it my hand had slid between my legs: just for comfort, no more. I saw Prana hurl herself at me like an avenging fury; I saw her face glowing with delight at Wilson's predicament; I saw again the lovely, sensual girl I'd held in the shower. My fingers were moving of their own accord: I was starting to get wet. Then my reverie was broken by a muffled, sobbing sound.

Rose is bringing herself off again, I thought. But the sound wasn't right, and a quick glance showed me that Rose was crying.

I slipped off my bed and across to her. I looked down at her, her fulsome, pale buttocks and thighs that I had become so fond of. I put my hand on her bottom:

"What is it Rose?" I asked.

For a minute Rose continued to sob into the pillow. I tried to lie on the bed beside her.

"Move up," I said.

She turned onto her side, facing the wall, and I lay behind her, pressed up close, and put my hand over her tummy. I'd come to think of Rose as the ultimate in wisdom and experience, strong, almost indestructible: it was disconcerting to see this vulnerable side.

"Look at me," she said, trying to laugh. "You'd think I'd know better."

"Come on Rose," I said: "what is it?"

"When you've been in here as long as I have," Rose sighed, "you think you've seen every meanness human beings are capable of. But there are always surprises."

"Hardiman?" I asked.

"That stunt with the laxative – that was low, even for Hardiman."

"She hates me Rose: I don't know why, I've never done anything to upset her.

"She hates you because you're bright and because you're a good person: everything she's not and wants to destroy."

"I never told you what she did to me this morning."

"What did she do?"

I told Rose.

"She's sick," Rose said. "That's the trouble – you can't counter that sort of sickness. Do you realise what the consequences of the laxative could have been?"

"We could have been fighting over the bucket?"

"Worse than that. Hardiman knew it was Exercise day. She knew you'd try to trade at least some of that chocolate. It could have gone to anybody. Anybody could have eaten it. And then they'd have been after your blood. It was pure luck it went to somebody who recognised it for what it was"

"Rose," I said, thinking again of the incident. "When I was on the ground – when Prana attacked me – you came running towards me."

"I know," said Rose. "And that's what really scares me."

"Because of Megan?"

"She frightens me Chloe – I don't mind admitting it"

"But – she let me speak. She pulled Prana off and listened to me. She believed me."

"True," said Rose. "But if you'd been lying – or if she hadn't believed you – things could have gone very differently. For both of us. That's what I mean Chloe: ever since I've been here I've tried to keep my head down. I've never conned anybody or antagonised anybody. I think most people here respect me. I've protected myself emotionally, too: I've never let myself get close to anybody or get hurt by anybody. You only get let down in the end, and besides, there hasn't been anybody worth getting close to. Then I forgot myself for a moment – and came within a whisker of landing us both in hospital. It's brought it home to me, Chloe: no matter how carefully you tread in here, you're always walking on very thin ice."

I hugged Rose tightly.

"I'm very touched – and grateful," I said. "But you'd have come to help anyone else in my position, wouldn't you."

"No," said Rose. "I might have come towards them – but I wouldn't have intervened."

"What would have happened if you'd got to Prana first?"

"I don't care to think about it."

"Why didn't the Wardens intervene?"

"They were thinking about it," said Rose. "But unless someone is being half-killed they don't get involved in what they call prisoner squabbles."

"Rose – I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"Some of the people in here are like black holes Chloe. Get close to them and they suck you in, and you never get out again. Please stay away from them if you can."

"I will," I said. "Megan frightens me as well – even though she did right by me today. The way she looks at me scares me."

"Megan isn't the only one," said Rose.

We seemed to have said all that was necessary. The light had now gone out, and I cuddled up to Rose as best as I could on the narrow bed. I tried to show my affection and gratitude by holding her, squeezing her. I ran my hand under her pullover, and down over her warm, soft belly.

"We haven't shaved today you know, she said. "Still, it's too late now. We'll have to do it straight after slops."

"Is there anything I can do for you now?" I asked.

"A rub to send me to sleep would be nice," she said. So I obliged her.