Sally was right. I have learned a lesson. There are no regrets, though. My heart is wooden and won’t bruise so easily. That experience has cost me little, other than the astronomically priced picnic.
As usual, no one is in the house when I get back, so I kick off my shoes and tuck into the food. It isn’t bad, tasty even, but definitely not worth £15. When it’s gone, I grow bored but pacing the room only serves to increase my edginess. I have already jogged this morning and decide I might as well use the pent-up energy to sort through my belongings.
Throwing the prison clothes away is therapeutic. It reminds me of how far I’ve come. Most of the items I kept from that time, such as drawings and odd bits of diaries, go straight in the bin. I want to forget that stage of my life. A proper clean start is needed. What’s stopping me from making good friends, getting a fun job, or meeting an honest lover?
The answer — probation. I’m stuck here. If I don’t sign on each week with Thorn, he’ll notify the police, and I’ll be picked up and returned to jail. How can I be free if my happiness is in someone else’s power? Even though I didn’t tell him about Jan, I’m supposed to report any new relationships, and I can’t move home or job without telling him. He has the power to order me to be piss-tested at his whim. Once, he even threatened me with an electronic tag.
Strangely, I think I could reach fruition with Jan now I know he’s such a massive weasel. I lie back and contemplate masturbating to burn time. Instead, I trot downstairs with my old prison bag and throw it in the general waste as the council empties the bins later today.
I’m halfway to my room when I remember the Ukrainian girl, Rada. I return to the bag and flick through the paperwork, and sure enough, there’s the note she gave me. “Polish Porsche, Fengate.” What had she said? To come and see her if I needed help with anything?
The kitchen is empty, so I make a cup of coffee and consider her words. I’d love to meet her again. I need support, I know that, but could she provide it? What help could she really give me, other than the comfort of a welcoming face?
All of a sudden, I feel like this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. I don’t have to sign on for a week. I’m not even working tomorrow and could ring in sick anyway. There’s a train every hour too. I’m supposed to tell Thorn, but how would he know? There’s the risk I could be seen by someone… I glance at the make-up box the prison officers gave me when I left. Camouflage!
Screw it, I’m going. No one can stop me. The surge of independence makes me laugh out loud. I decide it doesn’t even matter if I can’t find Rada. I’ll have a day out, go shopping, be normal. It’s not only Peterborough I can visit; what’s stopping day trips to London, sightseeing, or even popping to the coast? How many times had I dreamt of walking along a beach next to the waves?
There isn’t really any reason Thorn would stop me going to those places. Yet, I decide I won’t be asking for his permission. Space opens up in my mind. Journeys with friends, when I get some, maybe even music festivals are within my grasp. No one is going to drop out of the sky and improve my life. I need to do these things for myself.
There’s no way I’ll sleep now, but I lie in bed anyway and spend the time thinking. Do I want to visit the places I remember from my youth? Some hold good memories, others terrible. Although, after so long, perhaps many of the bad may have been forgotten. I grab the picture of my parents and wonder how I would feel if they were still alive.
Things couldn’t possibly have turned out any worse for me, but it’s stupid to dwell on the past. That time has gone, and nothing can be changed. Mai, when she tried to teach me in the prison, would tell me to focus on the here and now. Enjoy my breathing and be present. The future is coming whether we like it or not. Prepare for it. I struggled with that advice behind bars. We argued as I would say that I couldn’t ’be present’ when I had to share a bathroom with forty women.
She would smile. She was both irritating and calming, and, as I see it now, correct in her advice: “Change what you are able. Be nice. Learn and take pleasure in what surrounds you.” I remember shouting in response, ‘What? A load of paranoid lesbians!’
Maybe we were both right. I may not have ordinary options, but I still have many. I’m in charge now. There are rules, but I can work around them. Nobody will give me a wonderful life. I must decide on what I want and move towards it with grace and, if possible, happiness. “Enjoy your journey,” Mai would say. “To choose not to is crazy.”
I will try to take her advice as my newfound confidence teeters on the brink of hopefulness. Fond memories of her soft skin and calm voice lull me to sleep. Peterborough will still be there tomorrow. If I’m honest, it’s unlikely anyone will care if I visit or not. That said, I recall the last time I returned to a place with hope and that was a big disappointment.
26
The Seventh Memory - Age Eleven
The people they sent me to, Martha and Arthur, were an old couple who had been fostering for years. They lived in a pleasant neighbourhood close to my school. I could walk if I wanted, but Martha usually drove me. We had a home-cooked meal most evenings and the odd takeaway for a treat. It should have been perfect.
However, a few days before I left the children’s home, Donna, one of the other girls there, knocked on my door. She told me she’d been to that house and the old guy was a pervert. Donna had a reputation for being full of shit, so I assumed she was just winding me up. Nevertheless, I still had a word with Mrs Gill.
She explained that Donna was a troubled girl. Social services placed her with them but she had proven disruptive and chaotic. Martha and Arthur couldn’t handle her. She was out all hours, rarely at school, and hung around with older undesirable people. They gave up on her after they found her passed out drunk in the front garden at seven a.m. after a night of worry.
This all rang true. The other boys in the home called her Donna-do-you-wanna due to her willingness to do more-or-less anything with little persuasion. Needless to say, I was cautious. I ended up spending six months with the couple before it was ruined.
The police and social services collected me from school one morning with all the possessions from my bedroom. Next thing, I was in Mrs Gill’s office surrounded by adults. Mrs Gill did the talking.
‘Katie, you’ve been brought back to us because serious accusations were made about Arthur. We need to ask you some questions. You must be completely honest with us. Do you understand?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you feel comfortable living with Martha and Arthur?’
I felt uncomfortable in front of four adults, but as far as I knew I had done nothing wrong.
‘Yes, pretty much.’
They all glanced at each other.
‘Were you comfortable with Arthur in particular?’
‘Yes, most of the time. It was weird at the start.’
Again, there were concerned looks.
‘Can you be more specific?’
‘Well, it was odd to begin with, they’re strangers, and I’m in their house. I knew to be polite and stuff, but there wasn’t a list of rules like there is here. Donna also told me that Arthur was a pervert before I went. I mentioned that before, remember? So obviously I was a little wary.’
‘Did he behave unusually around you?’
‘No, to be honest, I didn’t see him much when I first arrived. Mostly just mealtimes and the evening, you know, in front of the television. Donna told me he used to watch her in the garden and was often hanging around outside the bathroom when she came out.’
‘Was he ever outside the bathroom when you left it?’
‘Sure. A couple of times. It’s not a big house. I was paranoid to start with. After a while I settled in. They were nice people. Arthur took me to places.’
‘What places?’
‘Parks, McDonald’s, a few restaurants, the museum, even a football match once which was cool. I’d never been to one before.’
‘Did he ever take you shopping?’
‘Arthur never did anything to make you anxious?’
‘Nope. Almost the reverse. They’re both really gentle. I dropped a dish once. Martha had spent all morning making a massive lasagne, and I offered to help carry it even though she warned me it was heavy. The dish slipped through the oven gloves and smashed on the floor. It was embarrassing, and worrying as I’ve been belted for less.’
‘What did they do?’
‘They smiled. Said not to mind and accidents happen. They have a little fat spaniel. His name is Smarty. I called him Farty because he did that a lot. He thought it was Christmas. Never seen him move so fast. Martha laughed her head off. Arthur got his coat and said he was off to the chippy. Like I told you, they’re cool.’
This time there were resigned shrugs and sad glances in the room. Mrs Gill gave them a nod, and the rest left us alone.
‘Does that mean I can go back now?’
‘I’m afraid not, Katie. I’m sorry.’
‘But why? He did nothing wrong. That Donna’s a liar, you know that.’
‘She is, but unfortunately, she filed an official complaint and accused him of touching her.’
‘She made it up!’
‘That’s probably the truth. But we can’t send you back. If something ever did happen, I’d never forgive myself.’
‘What if I want to go? It’s my choice, isn’t it?’
‘Not under these conditions. Try not to worry. It will be lovely to have you here again, I missed you.’
As my predicament sank in, the emotion I felt was helplessness. It was a familiar sense of falling.
‘Come on,’ Mrs Gill eventually said. ‘I’ll show you to your new room. There’s a surprise in there for you.’
I wandered behind her, nodding at a few of the usual faces. Luckily, I didn’t see Donna because I don’t know what I would have done. Then it occurred to me that Tommy might have returned. As we approached the last door on the first floor, I pictured him sitting on my bed grinning. Perhaps, being back wouldn’t be too bad after all.
Mrs Gill pushed opened my door and pointed in the corner. Instead of Tommy waiting for me it was my old bike.
‘They brought your bicycle back. Tommy said they put it in with his things by mistake.’
‘He’s here?’ I asked with a voice full of hope.
‘No, his foster parents dropped it off.’
I would have loved to see him more than anything. ‘Will I be able to visit him?’
‘No. We find it’s best for children to have a fresh start.’
‘Can I have his address at least?’
‘We can’t give that out. It’s a child protection issue.’
It all finally got too much and my shoulders heaved with the ensuing sobs. Mrs Gill pulled me into an embrace and stood there swaying with me for the age it took for me to control myself. As she left, I followed her to stand in the doorway, tears still streaming down my face.
She stopped halfway along the corridor. ‘We’ll find somewhere for you, Katie.’
I shook my head. ‘There’s no point. It’s not fair and I give up.’
She pondered that statement and agreed. ‘Life can be cruel.’
With a resigned shrug, she walked out of sight. I gently closed the door to lock the world away. She didn’t need to say that. I knew it already.
27
Back in the ‘Boro
I step off the train as it arrives in Peterborough. It’s overcast but warm. I’d caught the eleven o’clock train so there were few onboard. I chose a fitted white T-shirt, jeans and ankle boots as my new look. When I stared in the mirror at home, I had to stifle a laugh. With my sunglasses on, I looked so different from the pasty girl who arrived at the start of the year.
I catch admiring looks from the odd man. There are glances from both sexes at the tattoo on my arm which snakes down to the one on that hand. This time though, I fit in. I’m just another person with their own individual style. There’s nobody checking tickets at the exit, so I throw my coat over my shoulder and stroll to the bus station.
Peterborough has changed. It’s the same old cathedral in the background towering over everything, but the people are different. I thought the prison had become multicultural during my stay there, yet it’s nothing compared to the different races and accents I see and hear on my short walk.
‘Big Issue?’
I freeze. It’s a voice from the past. I stride over to a girl, well, a woman now although creature might be more appropriate. She was in the cell next to me for six months a few years into my sentence. I can’t remember her actual name, but all the prisoners and most of the staff called her Flakes on account of her dandruff. She said it was due to eczema. It’s a harsh condition as her hair was beautiful.
She was a sweet kid. Thick as pig shit and easily exploited but kind and pretty. She got a nasty sentence for looking after her boyfriend’s gun. She refused to rat on him. Then, after she was sentenced, he dropped her. She made excuses for him for months until another inmate who knew them both explained he’d moved in with his girlfriend.
She wasn’t the same after that. Maybe it was that which broke her because looking at her now, the years have been brutal. It looks like she hasn’t washed her hair since I last saw her.
‘Go on, I haven’t sold one all day.’
I decide to try out my new disguise and remove my sunglasses.
‘How much are they?’
‘Two and a half quid.’
‘What?’
‘Just give us some change if you don’t want to read it.’
Her dead-eyed expression displays no recognition or emotion. I press a pound coin into her shaking hand.
‘Use it wisely, Flakes.’
This time I see the beginnings of a toothless smile.
‘Yeah, that’s my name.’
She packs her stuff away and leaves to spend that pound before I can ask her if she knows which bus I need to catch. I have to queue at the information desk. Talking makes my cheeks feel stiff with the heavy make-up on them. There isn’t a route out to the industrial estate, so I hop on the cinema bus. I don’t mind the walk afterwards, but the nerves build the closer I get. Polish Porsche has seen better days. I was expecting a dealership. Instead, it could be the place where Del Boy gets his van fixed.
A stunning teenage girl works on reception. She glances up but carries on typing.
‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m looking for Rada.’
The smile slips and the fingers stop. She looks me up and down.
‘Who wants to know?’
‘A friend. She told me to look her up when I was free.’
Her English flows but the accent is heavy. Even so, the emphasis I place on the word free breaches the language barrier.
‘Wait one minute.’
I expect to see Rada when the door opens. Instead, a thickset bald man enters. There’s a fleeting resemblance to the young girl. He, too, checks me over. I do the same to him, glad of my shades. He has a football shirt on, tracksuit bottoms and smokes a cigar. Weird.
‘My name is Radic.’ He rolls the ‘r’ and it rhymes with ‘itch’. ‘Come to my office.’
He turns, and I follow. Despite his outfit, he is a man who’s used to people following his orders.
‘Take a seat. You won’t need your sunglasses in here.’ There’s only one chair in front of a messy desk, so I plonk myself down and do as he says.
‘That’s better. The eyes don’t lie. What do you want with Rada?’
‘She’s an old friend. I wanted to catch up.’
‘Don’t you call her by her first name?’
I open my mouth to say it, but I can’t recall what it is. My eyes widen as I realise I never knew it. His face is hard. I may only get one chance at him letting me see her.
‘Miss Rada?’ I guess.
He drums his podgy fingers on the surface of a thick book, and then he smiles. It’s a genuine one that changes his entire demeanour. I instantly warm to him.
‘You’re Katie.’
I’m taken aback. ‘Yes, how did you know?’
‘Nice tattoos, but unusual to have them there on each finger. I would guess you’ve covered something over. There’s a guarded aspect to you, too. A cautiousness that people who’ve been in prison carry with them.’
‘Very clever.’
He beams again. ‘Not really. It was quite a while ago, but Rada said a girl called Katie from the joint might call for her.’
I laugh. Mischievous sod.
‘Is she here?’
‘She works at my club. I’m going there for lunch. Come with me, I’ll give you a lift.’
Again, I trail after him. We get into an old car. I wonder, should I be worried? Yet, I trust him, which is strange when I’m cautious with nearly everyone else. He glances at me as we roll off the forecourt.
‘Seatbelt, please.’
‘Is this a Porsche?’
The grin is back. ‘Very amusing. This is a Ford. I prefer to keep under the radar.’
‘Radar or Rada?’
‘She didn’t tell me you were funny.’
I can’t help checking out all the transformation of the city since I left. I never knew the centre of town well, but I admire the new buildings. High-rise flats and small terraced estates dot the skyline.
‘It’s changed, eh?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, the place, the people. I read that Eastern Europeans would come when they joined the EU, there were loads arriving in the prisons. Must have been even more out here.’
‘I’ve been here many years now. Even I can see the effect of high immigration. Strange to hear someone like me saying build more schools, houses and hospitals because places like this one can’t cope.’
SHADOWS OF REGRET: If your life was ruined, would you seek redemption or take revenge? Page 10