by James Nash
Title Page
WOMEN’S PRISON
by
James Nash
Kinks Books is an imprint
of W&H Publishing LLP.
Publisher Information
This ebook edition published by Kink Books is an imprint of W&H Publishing LLP, Foresters Hall, 25-27 Westow Street, London, SE19 3RY.
Digital edition converted and published by
Andrews UK Limited 2011
www.andrewsuk.com
Previously published by The Olympia Press PO Box 148, Ryde, Isle of Wight, PO33 9BE.
Copyright ©Keith Raynolds
The right of Keith Reynolds to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This ebook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by the way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, electronically copied, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent.
The Women’s Prison
Jane Callender sat hunched and cold in her tiny cell, the odour of the slop bucket in the corner permeating her senses inducing feelings of nausea. She moved her leg and began to rub it frantically to ease the cramp, caused by lying in a tiny bunk nearly a foot too small for her. She picked up her note paper and pen and, by the illumination of the searchlight which shone incessantly at night through her cell window, recommenced the letter to her anxious parents.
She tried to stop her eyes from moistening as she wrote the usual confidence bolstering reassurances, but they belied her real feelings of helpless misery and bewilderment. How had a holiday gone so badly wrong? She blinked a tear out of the corner of her eye and tried to finish her letter, aware with mounting fear that in half an hour or so she would learn her fate. They would come for her and she would again face the grim faced magistrates in this hot, alien land, the courtroom so stifling, the single fan whirring pointlessly overhead, a sea of hostile Asiatic faces whose language she could not comprehend, yet who, nevertheless, had found her guilty of drug smuggling only three days before.
In despair, Jane thought back to the start of her holiday of a lifetime, a special cut rate tour around the countries of the Far East rarely visited by tourists, especially since the Vietnam war. Her parents, concerned for her safety, had expressed doubts about young girls going to these secretive, authoritarian countries whose standards were so different from those in Britain, but Jane had pooh-poohed their concerns with her usual good humour. The holiday was just two weeks after her eighteenth birthday, a glorious opportunity for some exciting adventure travel for which she, Jo and Debbie had saved for nearly a year. When they applied for their visas, they were contacted by a member of the Foreign Office who told them in no uncertain terms that the British Government did not advise tourists, particularly girls as young as themselves, to stay in some of these places and advised them to think again. They were told that Britain was trying to perform some delicate political reconciliation with these one party states and consequently would be very reluctant to get involved if any of the girls found themselves in any kind of criminal or civil problem.
They had thanked him for his advice, which all three girls had thought patronising, and ignored it. Oh Christ, why had they ignored it? Jane swallowed hard and fought off the tears. An adventure holiday, the travel firm had called it ... and how! That first week, so wonderful, so varied, the friendliness of their hosts, the fun the three girls enjoyed. She remembered them discussing that first week, wide eyed and slightly tipsy, in their hotel room, how amazed they had been at the friendliness they had encountered in countries which were known to most people only for guerrilla armies, the sights of burning villages and napalm bearing helicopters. Violence of one sort or another was their trademark, but the girls had found nothing like that, just happy smiling faces and courtesy everywhere they went.
Jane’s mind flashed back to the start of the second week, the night club where they had danced the night away, all three girls loving the attention they received from the local boys. They had all felt so free, so pretty, so desirable. They had been flattered and courted, cajoled and persuaded, had laughed merrily and happily along with their would be seducers. She thought back to the hotel room from which they had gently but firmly ejected the three lads who had promised them a night of pleasure they would not forget. They had not given in, but they had responded to long, lingering good night kisses and a promise to deliver a gift to a student girlfriend of one of the boys on their return to London. The gift had been a small package pressed into Jane’s hand, containing, the boy had said, an expensive ring in a protective case. Jane, happy to oblige, had put the gift in her handbag.
The last day of the holiday had been one of the best, with visits to a small village and then back to the small jungle airport where they waited for their plane, sorry that such a wonderful holiday was over. They had boarded the small aircraft which was to take them back across two national boundaries to the major international terminal which would be their starting point for the long trip back to London.
The girls had been happy and chatty as they hauled their plentiful luggage through Customs, necessary as they were entering another sovereign state prior to departure. As they approached the Customs counter, they had been giggling over the fun they’d had with the boys during the holiday, when suddenly, as if by pre-arranged signal, a squad of armed police surrounded them, shouting and yelling, frightening the three girls who could not understand a word. This was to be the end of a holiday and the start of a nightmare!
Jane, though herself terrified, had taken charge and tried to calm things down, but they had all been pushed roughly behind the Customs counter into a room at the back. The girls, at first frightened, had then become angry, bitterly angry, demanding to know what was happening; but got nothing but threatening gestures and angry scowls from the policemen. Eventually a bespectacled young man arrived who appeared to carry some authority, for he said something sharply to the policemen who immediately stopped jostling the girls. He had stared at them, grim faced, and spoken to them in perfect English, demanding to know how much they were carrying. The three girls, frightened and bewildered, had expressed their ignorance, frantically asked what he meant, but he had told them nothing. He had given a sign to the policemen who immediately grabbed the girls’ shoulder bags and began to open them.
The three girls, too frightened now to protest, had stood trembling as their belongings were dumped unceremoniously on the floor of the Customs office. Eventually they found the gift in Jane’s bag and the bespectacled man had demanded to know what it was. She had told him it was a present for a girl student in London. Then a policeman had ripped open the package, inside found several ounces of uncut heroin.
Jane had buried her head in her hands before, at a sign, the policemen grabbed the arms of all three girls. “Oh please, I didn’t know!” she had pleaded frantically but to no avail as the three of them were marched out of the office and across the airport reception to a small room where they had been locked in. Debbie and Jo, both a year younger than Jane, had become quite hysterical and were sobbing loudly during the long wait, while Jane had tried to calm them down. Trembling and tearful, they had waited for over an hour before the door was unlocked and a woman in uniform had entered. She was strongly built and hard faced, and the girls had immediately become fearful again, Debbie in particular weeping bitterly as Jane had tried to comfort her.
Then their ordeal had really begun for though the woman spoke no English, she had made it pla
in through very precise gestures that the girls were to undress. This realisation provoked a new burst of sobbing from the two younger ones, but Jane, choking back her own feeling of shame, urged them to obey. Trembling, all three had stripped down to their bras and panties, discarding their clothing onto a chair. It was not enough. The woman had snapped out a harsh command and by means of more gestures, had indicated that she wanted their bras and panties off. This provoked more sobbing, but the girls had obeyed and stood crying and shaking in the nude, crouching to cover their breasts and genitals.
This had turned out to be a pointless exercise in modesty, for as they stood naked, the woman had called out and a policeman had come into the office, grinning at the sight before his eyes, and taken away the girls’ clothing for examination. Such an immodest intrusion had sent all of them into crimson faced cries of outrage, but at a curt command they had straightened up and tried to compose themselves.
The woman beckoned to each girl in turn, starting with Jane, and to each girl’s horror she was made to bend over a chair in the office with her palms flat on the floor and her legs wide apart. Then the woman had donned a rubber glove and thoroughly inspected inside the intimate openings of each of them in turn. She had then used a well-greased speculum to illuminate her path while the girls cried desperately in humiliation.
Debbie had been last; she had been trembling violently as she watched the performance of the other two and had to be half dragged by the woman and persuaded by Jane before she took up the shameful position, crying bitterly. To make things worse for the girls, as Debbie was being intimately examined, the policeman had walked back in with the clothes. Debbie had let out a shriek of horror as she became aware that he was standing there, arms folded, watching her with great delight as her anus was penetrated by the speculum, while the other two sobbing girls had tried to cover their nakedness as best they could.
When the woman had finished with the now hysterical Debbie, the policeman left the room, then the girls had been allowed to dress and were returned to the main Customs office where their nightmare had begun. Debbie and Jo had pleaded with the bespectacled officer that Jane was an innocent victim, that they had never had any dealings with drugs, but to no avail. The two younger girls, on whom no substances had been found, were unceremoniously dumped onto a homebound plane with curt warnings never to return, while Jane had been taken by police car into the nearby city centre to a forbidding jail which was attached to the police station.
Here Jane had lingered for three weeks, sharing a cell and a slop bucket with two prostitutes who spoke only a smattering of English. She had never in her life felt so squalid and dirty. Her trial had been a farce. She had been given a defence counsel, a Mr. Lien, who had done his best with an inadequate brief but who at least spoke good English and was able to keep her informed of how the trial was progressing. None of the news had been good.
She had been able to talk to her Mom and Dad on the telephone, arranged by the British Consulate which, she felt bitterly, apart from arranging the link up had been no use whatsoever. She remembered the warnings before the holiday but she had never believed that her Government would discard her so readily. She tried to explain to the man from the Consulate that she was innocent, but he had looked bored, distant, always glancing at his watch. She supposed he must hear this every time a Brit ended up in a foreign court and she began to truly despair. Mom had been terribly upset, of course, but had thankfully resisted her natural urge to say ‘I told you so.’ so was Dad in his quieter way, but both had urged her to be brave, to tell the truth, and all would be well.
Jane had told the truth and the result had been the guilty verdict returned just three days before. She had collapsed into the arms of Mr. Lien. He had explained to her that there was much negotiating to do before the sentence was imposed and for her to have faith in him. She had bitterly asked what right he had to her faith after such a monstrous and unfair verdict, but as she did so and saw his hurt expression, she realised how unreasonable that was, given the circumstances of her arrest, and she had apologised.
Jane was suddenly jerked out of her reverie as her cell door clanged open and she looked up, choking back the fear which had risen in her stomach, to see a stern faced wardress with hard steely eyes and well-muscled arms beckoning to her. She rose, smoothed down her pale blue print dress and walked barefoot, for they had confiscated her shoes, up the steps of the cell and through the police station to the waiting van which would take her to court for sentencing.
***
Jane sat in the courtroom, flanked by her lawyer and two policemen, aware again of how hot and airless it was, fighting back the waves of nausea. She had a child-like urge to grip his arm for comfort and reassurance but resisted it, instead waiting tensely for her fate to be decreed. She was in quite a state and, that morning, had needed two stomach calming tablets prior to her transfer to the courtroom. Mr Lien had informed her gravely that the penalties in his country for drug smuggling were severe ranging from capital punishment in the worst cases to long spells of imprisonment. He had seemed to hint at other options too, but Jane could never get him to spell them out. He was a traditional Asiatic, courteous, charming and reluctant to dwell on unpleasantness for too long, preferring instead to smile politely and give general guidelines.
He had assured Jane there was no risk of the death penalty being invoked, partly because she was a foreign visitor and partly because of the small amount she had been found guilty of trafficking. This had been a relief to the terrified girl but she still had no idea what her sentence would be and she was distraught at the prospect of a long prison sentence in a hot alien land, particularly for a completely innocent transgression.
Mr Lien smiled at her and she weakly returned the gesture as he touched her arm, indicating that she should stand for the arrival of the magistrates.
The three took their places and stared, unsmiling. Jane sat, pale faced, twitching with anxiety. The eldest and obviously most senior magistrate motioned for the court to be seated and began to read out a long sonorous dissertation, completely unintelligible to Jane. Out of nervousness, and the need to occupy herself, she looked around the courtroom at the clerks and policemen, then she looked up at the public gallery which, to her horror, was crowded, men and women eager to see this young foreigner get her just desserts.
As the sentence was being delivered, Jane looked at the gallery and saw the outraged expressions on their faces and, puzzled, she looked at Mr. Lien and saw that he had a relieved smile. She gripped his arm, desperate for a translation, but he motioned her to be quiet as the speech continued and Jane saw his expression change to one of flushed embarrassment as the magistrate’s voice droned on. Suddenly alarmed, Jane heard the gasps and sniggers from the gallery behind and she looked up to the sea of faces, the women smug and self-satisfied, the men grinning and leering at her. She felt cold and afraid and she squeezed Mr. Lien’s arm for some comfort and reassurance, but he seemed too embarrassed, ashamed to look her in the eye.
The speech completed, the magistrates rose, looked down at Jane with a total absence of expression, and left the court.
Jane gasped in fright as the police officers moved to the side of her bench, ready to escort her away. She grabbed the arm of Mr. Lien and, almost yelling, she said “Please, what have they given me?”
He turned to her, his face inscrutable again, the professional mask had returned.
“Miss Callender ...” he said quietly “... you have much to be pleased about. Because of your age and the small amount you were carrying, plus the fact that the magistrates think you were a courier for the real barons in Cambodia, ... you have been sentenced to only six months in prison!”
Jane grabbed his arm with excitement. “Oh God ...” she cried “... thank you so much for all your efforts. It could have been much worse. It could have been ten years. God, I’m so grateful, I think ...” but he looked embar
rassed again and stilled her with a wave of his hand.
“Please, Miss Callender ...” he said, his voice a little hesitant now “ ... I haven’t finished yet, and I have only five minutes to acquaint you with the verdict ...” she stopped smiling, suddenly alarmed “ ...and I’m afraid there is an additional punishment to which I was compelled to agree or you would have spent at least three years in prison!”
He looked down at her frightened face and flushed, beginning to stare down at his shoes as Jane grabbed his arm and cried
“Oh, please tell me what ...?” and she stopped as he gently rested his hand on hers and she knew the news was bad.
“I’m afraid, Miss Callender ...,” he said, blushing “... you have also been sentenced to receive twenty strokes of the cane!”
Jane gasped, white faced in terror, and shrieked out as the policemen moved menacingly closer, but Mar. Lien waved them back.
“Oh my God ...No!” she cried. “That’s not right, they can’t! Oh please, Mr. Lien, no! They mustn’t ... it ... it’s uncivilised, degrading ... oh stop this, please!”
Mr Lien shook his head, obviously irritated by her histrionics. He preferred Asian women who were more stoic, tolerant of their lot and accepted canings as a routine instrument of the state’s paraphernalia of civil control. He spoke to her firmly.
“Is it more civilised to rot in prison for three or more years, Miss Callender? I have done my best for you so that you can get back to your home as soon as possible, but if you are dissatisfied, I ...” but she grabbed his arm again.
“No, no, no; it’s not your fault, I know that ...” she wept “... but please no, not this! How will they ... you know ... where will I be ...?” she broke down, sobbing, as Mr Lien cleared his throat in embarrassment.