Page 35 of #MeToo
It seemed that before he’d walked the corridors of Strangeways, his new cellmate had spent most of his life walking the hallowed halls of Oxbridge, both as a student and professor of mathematics and philosophy but in between times, had broadened his horizons travelling the globe; Borneo, Cambodia, Yucatan, then the Galapagos and Antarctica, the list went on. Quentin was apolitical activist,environmental warrior, peace protester, rabble-rouser and in his own words an old and wrinkly specialist in recalcitrance.
Stan had had to look the word up but after hearing many a tale from Quentin, was forced to agree. ‘So go on then, tell me where you learned to be a witch doctor. Was it on one of your hippy adventures… and how does it work, you know, how does wacky baccy stop people having fits and tremors and stuff like that?’
Quentin sighed, placed the bookmark on his current page and closed the book. ‘I sense that you are in need of distraction from your pain and the anticipation of your young lady friend’s visit this afternoon so, I shall indulge you. Now are you reposing comfortably?’
Stan saw the skin at the side of Quentin’s grey eyes crinkle – they twinkled when he was amused and the old warrior loved to tell a tale. Giving him the thumbs-up, Stan prepared to hear the ins and outs of whatever chemistry and alchemy was involved in curing the grateful arthritic masses. And just as Quentin said, Stan sought to pass the time until he saw his mum, Billie and Iris.
He’d considered cancelling but knew that it would cause a right hoo-ha and upset them all so there was no other option. Instead, he’d forewarned Billie. There was no point in bullshitting about slipping on soap in the shower or tripping on the stairs, so he’d told her a watered-down version. It consisted of a bit of pushing and shoving where the other guy got more than he bargained for. Now all he had to do was act like he wasn’t in pain and pretend that a cut lip and black eye was all he had to show for a punishment beating.
Zoning in on Quentin, Stan concentrated on the merits of the Cannabaceae family, along with the origins ofCannabis sativaand an insight into its indigenous home in Asia. This was going to be interesting, and it would take a while but Stan didn’t care because he had all the time in the world. Actually he had two hours, seventeen minutes and approximately thirty-four seconds – not that he was counting or anything.
* * *
Stan squeezed Billie’s hand really tightly and held onto Iris with the other as he jiggled her up and down on his knee. She was playing with a set of plastic rings, her chubby fingers attempting to hoop each one on top of the pole. Most of them had ended up on the floor, but at least that kept his mum occupied. The clock on the wall told him that it was almost time to say goodbye and as his focus returned to the faces around the table, he caught his mum’s look and the ever-present knife twisted in his gut.
She had definitely aged in the past year but religiously painted on a mask to hide her feelings. The blusher and lipstick didn’t conceal the greyish pallor that lay beneath or the fear in her eyes when they dared to glance around the dismal, room. The guards were making her nervous too, he could tell. His mum wasn’t used to scrutiny or talking privately but the sombre, straight-backed men were probably listening in to their conversation and Stan sensed it upset her.
In some ways it reminded him of the day of his dad’s funeral, when his mum looked to her sons for strength and away from anything that caused her distress, like the coffin and the flowers, the church and a deep dark grave. Maybe it was a mum’s inherent nature to look for danger, be one step ahead, and have those big lion paws at the ready to fend off any predators that might attack. But Stan wasn’t a cub and this wasn’t the jungle and there was sod all she could do for him in here. Perhaps that was what made her cry, that feeling of impotence. He knew it so well.
Stan saw his mum check her watch and straighten before she spoke. There it was, that mum resolve, putting her own feelings last, that innate sense of knowing what to do when it mattered, a strength she didn’t even know she possessed.God, I love her so much.
‘Right, young lady, give Daddy a big kiss and then we will go and wait for Mummy over there. Look, I can see some toys and I’ve got some chocolate buttons we can share, chop-chop.’ Sue was standing now and holding her hands out to Iris who had recognised the word chocolate and was looking with interest at her gran.
Stan gave Iris a hug and was rewarded with a sloppy kiss, more of a chew of the cheek than anything but her willingness to be cuddled by a man she hardly knew still meant the world to him.
Trying not to wince as Iris leant against his ribs, Stan gave her one last squeeze before letting her go, hugging his mum tight and giving her a peck on the cheek. He couldn’t speak so allowed her to ferry Iris away and turn his attention to Billie, who, he noticed, was flicking away a tear.
The nearest guard stared, unmoved and vigilant.
‘That’s the bit that always kills me, when you say goodbye to Iris. Even though she has no idea what’s going on I think her innocence makes it all the more sad, like this is all normal when it’s not. And it seems like forever, waiting for two weeks to see you, which sounds selfish when you’re the one in here.’ Billie was flushed and teary.
‘It’s not selfish at all, Bill, but I know what you mean. And the time goes so fast when you visit and then you wouldn’t believe how it drags in between. But let’s not dwell on stuff like that. I need to talk to you about something quickly so I’m glad Mum’s gone.’
Billie interrupted. ‘And I need to talk to you about something too… this supposed tussle with some hardman. And don’t give me the innocent look, Stan, I saw you wince a few times and you could barely sit down earlier without grimacing, so, what really happened?’
Stan sighed. ‘Okay, okay I give in… it was more like five or six hardmen and I didn’t exactly get a few slaps and a telling off. So now you know, can we move on? There’s no point in going over it and before you ask, no, I won’t be telling the guards who did it, end of.’ In contrast to his opening gambit of looking innocent, Stan went for the firm glare, hoping it would shut down the discussion.
Billie held both Stan’s hands in hers as she replied. ‘I knew it, and even though it pisses me off I get why you won’t grass so there’s no point in banging on. I wanted to know, that’s all.’
‘And I wanted to shield you all from it but I knew if I cancelled this visit you’d have a meltdown and think all sorts so I tried to conceal what I could. Don’t let on to Mum, though. Ignorance is bliss, eh?’
Billie nodded. ‘So what did you want to talk to me about?’
‘Your night out, withher. It’s pecking my head.’
‘I thought it might but as much as I’d love to get out of it, I have to go. This is probably the closest I’ll get to her and her flat so it has to be done. Just think of it as a cold-hearted surveillance, but with the personal touch. And Aiden is going to be in contact with me all night and if I feel uncomfortable we have a backup plan so don’t worry.’
The bell rang and caused Stan to jump slightly. His reaction to loud noises was getting worse and a sure sign of where his head was at.
Billie wrapped her arms around Stan and gave him a gentle hug. ‘Listen. Why don’t you ring me tonight and we can talk about it more if you want but honestly, it might be better if we don’t. It will only stress you out.’
Reciprocating, Stan pulled her close despite the pain. Then, as he let her go he looked into Billie’s eyes and as the others began filing past, gave her one last panicked instruction.
‘Just don’t let her get into your head, will you, Billie. She’s warped and I’m scared she’s going to suck you in. I need you to have faith in me, Billie. I need you to believe me. Promise you’ll be careful and you won’t fall for her lies.’ Stan felt Billie’s fingers fall from his as they backed away from one another but before he turned, she said the words he needed to hear.
‘I promise, and I believe you so don’t worry. Love you, Stan.’
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