At times, I recalled a young girl in prison taking courses hoping to better herself. There’ll be no computing jobs or management roles for me, but I don’t regret it. Keeping occupied was the most important thing, and I’ll be sorted if I ever need to order food in Spain.
My relationship with Maleeha deepens as the weeks go by. But there’s an iceberg coming into view — we can’t stay at the premises forever. This morning, Sally has arranged for her friend from the council to come in and see us.
‘Okay, girls. This is Yvette from the housing department. We worked together for a while, so I’ve called in a favour.’
‘That’s not true. She promised me dinner afterwards,’ said Yvette.
They pass a comfortable smile between each other. Maleeha and I do the same. Yvette starts the interview.
‘I find it’s best to ask what you want, and then we can go from there.’
‘We would like a two-bedroom flat together,’ says Maleeha.
Sally and Yvette share another look.
‘Do you have any money?’ asks Yvette.
Maleeha’s blank face is the answer. This could take all day, so I interrupt.
‘We’ve only got a few quid. We can’t afford a deposit, but we’d like somewhere together. It needs to be safe. A flat would be perfect, but maybe that’s a plan for the future. At the moment, we will be fine if we’re in the same place. If it has to be a shared house, then we’d prefer a female-only one.’
‘Good,’ says Yvette after giving me a respectful nod. ‘We have to be realistic about things. There’s a housing crisis in this country. With immigration running at massive levels, the council housing stock is being taken up like never before. In a nutshell, we aren’t building enough houses for the people who need them. Therefore, we have to prioritise. The vulnerable and children come first, and, if I’m honest, that doesn’t leave much for anyone else.’
‘What does that mean? Are we going to be homeless?’
‘Let her finish, Maleeha,’ says Sally.
‘There is private housing available. However, for those places, you must pay a month’s deposit or more, and a month’s rent up front. There will be administrative charges too. Cambridge is one of the most expensive cities in the country. Even if you live in the cheaper areas like Arbury, you are looking at £1000 per month rent, so that’s £2500 at the start.’
She might as well have said £25,000. I laugh, thinking about our £200 a week from the packing job. I sink into my seat with despair. Maleeha gets angry.
‘That’s crazy. We can’t afford that. I thought you paid housing benefit for those on reduced wages?’
‘That’s right, we do. But only £600 per month.’
She paused while we got our heads round whether we could afford the shortfall between us. £200 each seemed reasonable.
‘You would also have to factor in all the extras such as heating bills and council tax, perhaps another £500 per month. Maybe more if you don’t want to eat cheese on toast most nights.’
Maleeha slouched too, almost beaten. ‘We’re a team. We stick together.’
‘What we can offer is £80 a week towards a room in a shared house. Now that includes the bills, so all you’d need to spend money on is clothes and food. Sally let me know you were leaving soon. So I kept an eye out. We have a new landlord who will take benefits clients and is happy for us to be responsible for the deposit. Any damage you do, we pay for. We’re trusting you.
‘It’s a four-bedroom house, single rooms only, of either sex. It isn’t in the best part of town, but if you two live there, then you are half the occupants. Hopefully, at least one of the others will be nice, maybe even both. It’s a start. Small steps. You can save and move on when you’re ready.’
I grin at Yvette. Clever cow. She knocked us down and then built us up. She’s right. It is something. We could make it nice. The painters are leaving this evening, and the change in the house is staggering. There’s a light, summery feel to the place even on a grey day like today. Mad what a bit of magnolia can do.
‘Maybe Tammy upstairs would move in as well?’ asks Maleeha.
We still see little of her despite Maleeha’s best efforts. Maleeha has taken it on herself to be her champion but has failed so far. God knows what Tammy does all day because she’s rarely out. However, as a housemate, she is harmless if you forget her history. Sally reminds us of those issues.
‘Unfortunately, due to her offending, she wouldn’t be suitable for that sort of property.’
‘What sort of property is she suitable for?’ I ask.
The best thing about Sally is she doesn’t feel the need to hide the truth.
‘Very few. Specialist places like this are few and far-between, and you can’t stay in them forever.’
‘Will the council help her?’ I look at Yvette.
‘We’ve dealt with Tammy before. She’s had every help. She didn’t pay her rent or bills and then went to jail. There’s so many people in need, that you can’t keep giving people chances.’
I’ve never thought about it like that before. The papers make it out to be whichever government is in charge’s fault, or even the councils. They have a tough job to do.
We all shake hands and send Yvette on her way with our completed application forms. She jokes about the lack of dinner from Sally. Tammy’s plight makes me consider my own views on life. I believe I have a chance now. In just a few months, I’ve found work, a friend, and a place to stay. What could I achieve in years?
However, I will myself not to think of the past. Could I live the rest of my life without thinking about it ever again? I feel the hatred inside of me, for myself, and all the others responsible. There is unfinished business and I don’t know if I’ll be able to move on until those thoughts are dragged into the light. They are issues for another day. I need to build a base and some happiness before I return to that dark time.
The painter, whose name I’ve never known, stands behind us as we shut the door. He has paint flecks on his face and looks like a snowman sneezed on him.
‘We’ve finished early, so we’re off now,’ he says to me.
‘Okay, well, you’ve done a nice job, but I’m not paying you.’
Maleeha laughs but he doesn’t. In fact, he looks nervous.
‘Look, I wanted to say goodbye. We’ve enjoyed working here with you lot making us cups of tea and stuff.’
Maleeha nudges me obviously, and his neck flushes red.
‘Years ago, I was in a place similar to this. I was younger than you, but it still felt like a big hole to get out of. You can do it. You remind me of my mum, Katie. She put up with loads and came out the other side. When I remember, I think of her strength. You’ve a whole life to grab, if you want it.’
‘Not the smoothest chat up line I ever heard,’ giggles Maleeha.
He laughs. ‘You’re both pretty, but I’ve got kids now. I know all about how absent parenting screws them up. I’m happy and way too tired to cheat on anyone. My focus is my children having two parents and a solid base in life to spread their wings from. Anyway, I just wanted to say good luck.’
His comments cause us both to stifle sobs. I step forward and hug him. It’s fantastic to see he means what he’s said. I turn to Maleeha with happy tears and watch her flee to her room. He leaves with similar haste.
Maleeha and I have an important meeting today with a tattoo parlour in town. She’s been great and came with me to flick through the brochures. The guy who runs it is covered in some bizarre stuff, but he’s half the price of the big man around the corner. He said he was building up his business, hence the low price. I’ve decided on four, simple, yellow roses on each finger. He said the design needed to be solid to cover up the blue ink.
I can’t wait to get it done. I should be grateful that I didn’t have love and hate done when I was in prison like some I’ve seen. Instead, I had four diamonds on the first part of each finger where it joins the hand on one side. The other has clubs on it. Incr
edible really, as I’d never played cards. I keep my hands in my pockets wherever possible.
On my right bicep, I have a skull and crossbones with the word revenge under them. Again, it’s in the same faded blue ink. I like the idea but it’s so badly drawn, a three-year-old with a crayon could’ve done a better job. My left shoulder has a small smudged cross on it. It always makes me laugh when I see UK prison films and they have perfect inks all over their bodies. Reality is different. I also received a week in solitary as they are illegal. It was just as well because the shoulder one got infected and I needed antibiotics. I’m lucky not to have caught worse.
I bound up the stairs and knock on her door. ‘Come on, we need to get a move on.’
No answer.
‘Maleeha, are you okay? I’m coming in.’
She hasn’t locked the door which is a good sign, but she has changed from upset to wild and out of control. She paces backwards and forwards with a moist sheen on her top lip.
‘Hey, calm down.’ I pull her toward me and hold both her hands to stop them swinging around. ‘What’s wrong? The painter was just making throw away comments. Ignore them. Let’s go get our tattoos and have a laugh.’
‘The tattoos are your thing. I can’t stand it anymore. When I think I’m progressing, a simple comment drags me back to the start. I miss my children. All this other stuff doesn’t seem real. How can it improve for me?’
Maleeha was going to have a dove on her ankle as a sign of her new freedom, and because she wanted to be involved. That wouldn’t happen now. I don’t know what to say to her. It always feels like I’m trying to fix unsolvable problems. Perhaps a different tack is needed.
‘It’s time to move on. You can’t go back to that life. The past has gone. We must build something new, but that’s going to be impossible if we crumble every time we’re reminded of what we’ve lost. Come on, today can be a fresh beginning.’
I didn’t expect to persuade her and I don’t. She smiles though, and it’s unsettling. She reminds me of the women who would wish everyone goodnight on the wing, then return to their cells and self-harm in the most unspeakable ways. There’s peace in deciding on a certain path and knowing you aren’t going to waver.
‘You go, Katie. I’ll come next time.’
I know I’m being played, but this is important to me.
‘Okay, next time, yeah?’
She closes the door on me which isn’t like her. I trot down the stairs. She’ll be here when I get back. I’ll only be gone a few hours. What’s the worst that could happen?
21
Tattoo Time
The tattooist gives me a you’re late and I’m hacked off look. I sit in the seat and it’s not dissimilar to going to the dentist’s. I don’t remember it hurting the first time they inked me on the fingers. Perhaps I was out of it because boy does it sting.
‘There’s not much fat there, so the needle isn’t cushioned. Embrace the discomfort. It’s a symbolic moment, pain is part of the experience.’
Easy for him to say. I grit my teeth and try to relax.
‘Tattoos fade on your fingers, so you’ll need to get them touched up.’
‘Yeah, how long?’
‘Depends what you do with your hands.’ He likes his little joke.
‘I’m not a pot washer if that helps.’ He doesn’t laugh at mine.
‘If it starts to look like one on an old sailor, it’s time.’
Two hours later, he’s done. He wraps loose bandages around both hands and plucks the fifty quid off the table where I’d left it. He gives me a leaflet on aftercare, says he’s closing, and ushers me out. It’s one of the most addictive things I have ever done. I’m going back in the morning to check out images for my bicep. I can’t wait.
Leaving the shop, I want to tell everyone in the street what I’ve done. They look amazing. I’m dying to uncover them and buy something, so someone has to glance at my fingers to get the money. He told me not to do anything until tomorrow and the first twenty-four hours is the most important stage, so I swagger home.
I rush up to Maleeha’s room, but it’s locked when I try the handle after not getting a reply. Sally’s in the kitchen.
‘Did you see Maleeha?’
‘She said she had to nip out. What happened to your fingers?’
I can’t help laughing and slide off the bandages.
‘Wow, very nice. Quite an improvement. Where did you have it done?’
‘Tom’s Tattoos.’
‘Okay. Did you try Shemanskin’s on the edge of town?’
‘We had a little look, but the price was miles higher.’
‘That’s because he’s miles better.’
‘Yeah? You secretly got a bullseye on your backside?’
‘Cheeky! We get many girls in here with dodgy blue ink. Jan Shemanski runs it. You should have said. He does a special deal for ex-prisoners. Apparently, it’s a thing back in Poland. Freedom Tattoos I think they’re called. People still judge tattoos, but it is changing if they’re done well. Yours look nice now. Are you having any more?’
Sally is a handy person to know. I show her the smudged mess on my arm.
‘Tell him I sent you. He’s a decent bloke. Careful though, Jan’s a ladies’ man, and he’ll like you. You may like him too.’
I’m not sure what to take from that, but before I can ask I remember my friend. ‘Did Maleeha say where she was going?’
‘No. She said she’d be late, but not to worry.’
We only have to sign in first thing in the morning now, so she has a long time to get up to something before anyone misses her. Except me of course, and I’ve got a bad feeling.
22
Jan Shemanski
I check with the night staff before they leave if Maleeha came home. She didn’t. I’d barely slept anyway and would have heard. Where could she have gone, or what could she have done? I should understand more than most about the perils of thinking about things in the dark. For the first time since they released me I felt like taking something to silence my mind. When the possibilities are limitless, there’s no peace. I can’t even have a shower this morning to wake me up because of keeping the tattoos dry.
I sign myself in at eight o’clock, and still she’s not back. It’s pointless waiting. I’m excited as well which is a treacherous feeling. I leave my mobile number with the day staff to text me if she turns up. They fret now, too.
I decided during the night to visit the tattoo parlour that Sally recommended: Shemanskins. I have hope about going there, compared to none for Maleeha. We are at the warehouse this afternoon, so I pray she’s back for that. That said, missing a “sign in” is important. It may even be too late for her.
Shemanskins has only just opened when I arrive. I’m the only customer and approach the counter.
‘Hi, I’m looking for Jan?’
‘You’ve found him.’
I grin. I need to work on my assumptions because I expected a tall eastern-European, covered in tattoos, who spoke with a heavy accent. Instead, I have a shaven-headed black man of my height. He wears only jeans and a T-shirt. The only tattoo I see on him is a full sleeve on his right arm.
‘Sally told me to come.’
His smile is confident and cheeky. She was spot on, I am going to like him. We sit and chat. He’s lived here for fifteen years and within a few minutes I can tell he is like nobody I’ve met before. I think the phrase is relaxed in his own skin.
He heard about the programmes to help people back into work with unsightly tattoos through other tattooists. Jan doesn’t commit to anything now and does it when he’s quiet. He and his partner stopped doing them for a while as word got around and his shop was inundated. In my case, he says mine would be easy to cover, and he’d do it for free. If I wanted to get something bigger done, or more complicated, it would make sense to do it at the same time. For that, I’d receive a discount.
We talk about nothing as he makes me a coffee, and then he gestures to some alb
ums and tells me to have a flick through. I find I’m wondering whether his partner is business or sexual, male or female. I’d prefer it to be a work-related one.
‘Have a look and take your time. You’ll be wearing it forever, so you can’t change your mind afterwards. If you want to chat, pop back, or book yourself in. Enjoy your day, and I’ll catch up soon.’
His grip is strong, which is understandable. He disappears out the shop rear when a young girl turns up and stands next to the till. I hang around for over an hour. The place has a good vibe. It’s reassuring to see so many normal people popping in. I detect the same air of excitement from them.
I haven’t received a call or text about Maleeha. I decide to buy some new clothes to distract myself. It’s all rather confusing. Some shops are so expensive and others cheap. I purchase a few things from the latter. Sports Direct is reasonable. I want half the stuff in there. I settle for some leggings, a running top and a vice-like bra. Primark is almost giving it away, so I grab enough items to make one decent going-out ensemble.
I whistle walking home. I’d experienced small buzzes finding bargains at the charity shops, but it’s even better getting everything brand new.
The house looks quiet when I return. However, the first person I see when I enter is Tim Thorn. He stands in the kitchen with a stern face. Sally, next to him, turns with a sad expression. A life of disappointment has taught me to cope with bad news, so I walk towards them. Sally steps forward.
‘Let me explain, Tim.’
‘No, I’ll tell her. You’ve made us look unprofessional. It’s your responsibility to make us aware when things aren’t progressing. Then we can prevent embarrassing events like last night.’ His eyes blaze. ‘Close the door on the way out, Sally.’
A worried expression crosses her face. Sally touches my arm. ‘We’ll have a good chat afterwards. Try not to worry. You’ll be fine.’
Tim pours himself a glass of water and gulps it down; his professional probation office persona is absent.
Shadows Of Regret Page 8