Page 41 of The Stranger in Room Six
My pusher looks suitably reprimanded. Jac clearly carries weight here. I wonder how I’ve never met her before.
‘Come in with me,’ she says when she finds me hovering at the door of the communal lounge, wondering whether to brave the cold stares and those snide ‘Lady Belinda’ comments. ‘We could play table tennis. There are a couple of others who’ll join in too. Lifers, like me. I’ll introduce you.’
Playing table tennis with three lifers? Before that dreadful day when Gerald died, I’d never in a month of Sundays have thought I’d be doing that.
‘Sorry,’ I say, feeling the panic rising in my chest. ‘I think I should go back to my cell.’
‘That’s OK.’ She places a hand briefly on my arm. ‘I remember my first time in prison. Bloody awful. But I’m here if you need a friend.’
A few days after that, Jac comes into the laundry where I’ve been sent to work. There are all kinds of horrible things inside the sheets. Used tampons. Turds. Skid marks. I gag, thinking of laundry back home, when on Sundays I’d change everyone’s linen, comforted by the sense of order, and the lavender water I’d iron with.
‘Here,’ says Jac. ‘Let me do that. You take a minute – go to the toilet and blow your nose.’
This time I accept her offer.
The following week, I’m sorting out the dirty pile of laundry. So far I haven’t found any tampons or excrement. But what’s this? A small parcel with what looks like white powder inside.
A flash of unease zips through me. I’ve never actually seen cocaine before, but I have seen pictures online. In fact, I’d printed out some facts about drugs to give to the girls when they were doing a project at school.
As I turn the packet over in my hand, I can hear a guard’sfootsteps coming down the corridor. What if they think these drugs are mine?
‘Inspection time,’ comes a yell. My body freezes. I need to think fast. Hand it in and not be believed or hide it. But where?
The footsteps are getting closer. Sweat runs down my neck. Swiftly I throw the packet into the washing machine along with the soap powder and turn it on. I can feel my face burning, my heart pounding.
The guard puts her face round the door. ‘Everything all right here?’
I nod, fear leaving me unable to speak.
The guard gives the room a cursory look, then marches out. When the washing-machine cycle finishes, I take out the sheets. There’s no sign of the plastic bag. Maybe it’s melted. Thank God! I’m off the hook.
At lunch, everyone at my table is talking about one of the girls who’d been strip-searched that morning in the drugs check. ‘Bloody invasion of human rights,’ snorts one.
Jac slides onto the chair next to me with an extra roll of bread. She passes it to me under the table, placing it in my lap. ‘Thanks for hiding it,’ she whispers.
‘Hiding what?’ I whisper back.
‘My stuff. I wrapped it up in my bedsheet. Someone told me the inspection was happening, and I knew it would be safe with you.’
A cold horror shoots through me. ‘But I put it in the washing machine,’ I stutter. ‘I think it melted.’
‘Youwhat?’
Jac raises her voice so high that everyone stares at us.
‘Your girlfriend giving you problems, is she?’ titters a woman with a purple crewcut.
Girlfriend?
‘Fuck off and mind your own business.’
This is a side of Jac I haven’t seen before.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I thought someone might blame me.’
Jac’s spit flies into my face. ‘Do you know how much that was fucking worth? I was meant to pass it to someone else. Now they’re going to get me –andyou when I tell them you’re responsible.’
The bread sticks in my throat, making me choke until I wash it down with water.
