wasn’t an option, for Miss Haynes, one of the prison officers, was already advancing on her, grim-faced.
‘Pick it up, Fellows,’ she yelled, as if Susan was deaf as well as clumsy.
Susan knew by the sniggers around her that it would be folly to make any sort of complaint, and as she knelt down to try to scoop the mess back on to the tray she fought back the desire to cry. She wouldn’t put it past Haynes to make her eat it. She had already discovered that humanity didn’t exist in prison, not from the other prisoners or the officers.
‘Scrape it into the slop bucket and get a pail of water to clear it up,’ Haynes yelled again. She looked round at the women grinning at the nearest table. ‘I suppose you think that was funny?’ she said. ‘Little things please little minds!’
Susan rushed to do as she was told, embarrassed by the way everyone was looking at her.
A blowsy woman in a pink sweatshirt was standing by the slop bucket, scraping the remains of her own food into it. ‘Don’t let it get to you, love,’ she said. ‘They do it to everyone new. They like to see how you’ll react.’
‘It’s a bit childish,’ Susan said with a sigh.
‘We’re all like kids when we’re in here,’ the woman said, and handed the bucket and cloth to her. ‘Some cry all the time, some fight, but the best way to cope with it is to laugh.’
As Susan hurried back to clean the floor, she wondered what anyone could find to laugh at in here. She wished now she’d turned the gun on herself after she’d shot the doctor.
In her naivety she had imagined prison to be something like going into a religious retreat. No comforts of course, but a chance to be alone most of the time, and in utter silence. But the noise in here was deafening and relentless. It never let up, not even at night: women shouting, swearing, crying, even screaming, trying to pass messages on to one another, others banging on the doors. She was in a cell with another woman called Julie who prattled on about nothing all the time and even the sound of her voice grated on Susan’s nerves.
It was so hot and airless, she would lie there at night in the dark feeling as if she couldn’t breathe. The cell was so small, just the bunks and a toilet and wash-basin, nowhere even to sit properly for there wasn’t enough headroom on the bottom bunk. She hated having to wash and dress in front of Julie, and having to use the toilet made her squirm with embarrassment – she would hang on for hours in the hopes of getting a minute alone. But Julie didn’t suffer from the same problem, she even laughed about it when she made terrible smells and noises.
Then there was the brutality.
On her second day Susan had seen one woman punched in the face by another prisoner while they were exercising outside. Since then she’d witnessed countless cat-fights and overheard all kinds of hideous threats to prisoners who weren’t liked for some reason. But worse still than the open aggression was the semi-concealed kind. She would see women whispering to one another in association time, and could sense by their scowls and gestures that they were plotting something against someone. She lived in fear that it might be her.
Once she’d cleaned the floor and taken the bucket back to the kitchen, her appetite was gone. It was perhaps as well, for it was time to go back to the cells.
Once there, she lay down on her bunk and picked up her book. But she was only pretending to read, she couldn’t see well enough and it occurred to her she needed glasses.
It seemed very strange to her that she kept becoming aware of things which hadn’t affected her outside. Her eyesight was one of them. Of course, she hadn’t tried to read anything for a very long time, so her vision may have been impaired for some while. She hadn’t noticed smells outside either, yet here it was so airless she was aware all the time of odours of stale food, toilets, sweat and feet. There was her own
‘Pick it up, Fellows,’ she yelled, as if Susan was deaf as well as clumsy.
Susan knew by the sniggers around her that it would be folly to make any sort of complaint, and as she knelt down to try to scoop the mess back on to the tray she fought back the desire to cry. She wouldn’t put it past Haynes to make her eat it. She had already discovered that humanity didn’t exist in prison, not from the other prisoners or the officers.
‘Scrape it into the slop bucket and get a pail of water to clear it up,’ Haynes yelled again. She looked round at the women grinning at the nearest table. ‘I suppose you think that was funny?’ she said. ‘Little things please little minds!’
Susan rushed to do as she was told, embarrassed by the way everyone was looking at her.
A blowsy woman in a pink sweatshirt was standing by the slop bucket, scraping the remains of her own food into it. ‘Don’t let it get to you, love,’ she said. ‘They do it to everyone new. They like to see how you’ll react.’
‘It’s a bit childish,’ Susan said with a sigh.
‘We’re all like kids when we’re in here,’ the woman said, and handed the bucket and cloth to her. ‘Some cry all the time, some fight, but the best way to cope with it is to laugh.’
As Susan hurried back to clean the floor, she wondered what anyone could find to laugh at in here. She wished now she’d turned the gun on herself after she’d shot the doctor.
In her naivety she had imagined prison to be something like going into a religious retreat. No comforts of course, but a chance to be alone most of the time, and in utter silence. But the noise in here was deafening and relentless. It never let up, not even at night: women shouting, swearing, crying, even screaming, trying to pass messages on to one another, others banging on the doors. She was in a cell with another woman called Julie who prattled on about nothing all the time and even the sound of her voice grated on Susan’s nerves.
It was so hot and airless, she would lie there at night in the dark feeling as if she couldn’t breathe. The cell was so small, just the bunks and a toilet and wash-basin, nowhere even to sit properly for there wasn’t enough headroom on the bottom bunk. She hated having to wash and dress in front of Julie, and having to use the toilet made her squirm with embarrassment – she would hang on for hours in the hopes of getting a minute alone. But Julie didn’t suffer from the same problem, she even laughed about it when she made terrible smells and noises.
Then there was the brutality.
On her second day Susan had seen one woman punched in the face by another prisoner while they were exercising outside. Since then she’d witnessed countless cat-fights and overheard all kinds of hideous threats to prisoners who weren’t liked for some reason. But worse still than the open aggression was the semi-concealed kind. She would see women whispering to one another in association time, and could sense by their scowls and gestures that they were plotting something against someone. She lived in fear that it might be her.
Once she’d cleaned the floor and taken the bucket back to the kitchen, her appetite was gone. It was perhaps as well, for it was time to go back to the cells.
Once there, she lay down on her bunk and picked up her book. But she was only pretending to read, she couldn’t see well enough and it occurred to her she needed glasses.
It seemed very strange to her that she kept becoming aware of things which hadn’t affected her outside. Her eyesight was one of them. Of course, she hadn’t tried to read anything for a very long time, so her vision may have been impaired for some while. She hadn’t noticed smells outside either, yet here it was so airless she was aware all the time of odours of stale food, toilets, sweat and feet. There was her own
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