Chapter Four

Things did settle down after that. Well, for a week. By that time she had her bearings of the place – though she seemed to have been here for an eternity.

Daily routine was similar to the remand centre and ordinary prison, but a hell of a lot sharper toned. Everything was “at the double”, and every day was exhausting, during that first week. The one advantage was that it made her sleep at night. But then, she had to. A piercing bell got everyone up at six o’clock, and immediately they had to scramble into gym uniform – a so-called understrap (a kind of jock-strap) and bra, shorts, a top and plimsolls – and do exercises in the open air in front of their wing. Screws bawled out anyone that slackened. On her second morning Jenny watched a girl get caned for persistently slacking and ignoring warnings, or so the screws announced.

The girl was made to stand out in front, while the rest of them had to pause and stand to attention. PE Instructor (job descriptions were used as proper names) commanded the girl,

“Take down your shorts!” The girl gazed round at her and at the audience. “At the double! Shorts, DOWN!”

The girl dropped her shorts to round her ankles. “Drop your understrap! Strap, DOWN!”

The girl dropped her understrap. The upper garment of the P.E. uniform was short, so her lower regions were totally exposed.

“BEND OVER!” PE Instructor shouted. “Touch your toes!” The girl bent over, strained towards her toes, bounced slightly, and touched them. There were gasps from the audience, or the new girls anyway. Jenny’s caning had been in relative privacy compared to this. “Silence!” a screw shouted.

PE Instructor raised the cane.

Whack! The cane vibrated as it landed on both cheeks, with a sound like a pistol shot. It left a mark immediately, a stripe of red on each side of her parting.

Whack! Whack! Sounds came from the girl. She was muffling her cries, but the sobs were very audible.

Whack! Four strokes had left four marks. The girl stumbled forward.

“Stand still!” P.E. Instructor commanded. The girl gave louder gasps, and her arms shook as she touched her toes.

Whack! Whack!

On the sixth stroke P.E. Instructor held the cane against her bottom instead of raising it again or lowering it. It vibrated on her bottom for a noticeable while. The bottom was reddening all over.

At last the instructor lowered the cane. The girl made to rise. “Remain bending over!” the instructor commanded.

There was a long wait before she was told to rise, obviously deliberate, while everyone looked at her bottom turning redder and redder. But finally PE Instructor said, “You may straighten.”

The girl was sent back to her cell to miss breakfast and wait till it was time to go to Class. She departed sobbing uncontrollably, looking away from everyone.

Breakfast was relatively informal, where they queued to get food from other prisoners for whom this was their Special Duty. Every girl had a Special Duty, to be performed at particular times of the day. Jenny was part of a team doing the laundry for the various wings. She’d hoped for something suited to being a more educated prisoner; in the remand prison she had been given library duties. But she was given this duty, and no arguing allowed. It kept her busy for the later part of each afternoon.

Class occupied the main part of the morning. They’d had Class in the remand centre too, but there it didn’t mean a lot – just somewhere where the girls were sent for part of the day, while someone called ‘Teacher’ occasionally gave them easy tasks. Here it was taken very seriously. Each girl was put in one of several different classes according to Assessment and her background; Jenny’s was the one for reasonable school leaving qualifications, and anything upwards. Alison was there with her. Cal by comparison was in the lowest class, the remedials where they spent their time on basic reading and numeracy, simple buying and selling skills and so on. It took place later in the day than Jenny’s class, so Cal had a morning Duty, working in the kitchens. Frankie was in a different class again.

Even so there wasn’t a lot Jenny could be taught in the classes here. Teacher gave her a set of tasks for the week, preci-ing articles, and an unrealistic business game in which you had to devise marketing strategies for varying scenarios. Still, she had to do it. She didn’t mind as it happened – at least Class was better than Personal Duty and the endless PE, and Teacher didn’t bawl at them to do things at the double and stand them to attention every few minutes. They simply had to come in, collect their tasks and get on with it. It was over by mid morning.

They were then allowed an hour of Morning Association, in each wing’s Recreation room, where they could mill around and talk freely – or as freely as they dared with screws never far away. After that they had to go for a run before lunch.

After lunch PE began in earnest. They changed into PE kit for a third time, and went to Gym for a gruelling set of exercises, jumping over wooden horses, climbing bars, jumping and jerking, doing press-ups and so on and on. Each girl was given a set of personal targets, and extra exercises if she wasn’t achieving them fast enough – and the threat of the cane if she still didn’t achieve. Then there was Afternoon Association for an hour, but there was little liveliness now, just girls draped in chairs, talking quietly. Then it was off to Afternoon Class for girls like Cal, and Personal Duty for the rest of them.

One of the wings where Jenny had to do the laundry had a bad reputation: it was the ‘difficult’ wing. By no means all girls there were difficult – Frankie was there for a start – but there were certainly some bad cases. The first Jenny noticed was a big foul-mouthed girl, known as Big Lizzie.

Or rather, it was Big Lizzie who noticed Jenny. Apparently her better accent attracted Big Lizzie’s attention.

“I say, la de da!” she said, standing in Jenny’s way while she carried a pile of bedding.

“Let me pass, please,” Jenny said, irritated but not really worried. Experience suggested that this type would only get physical if she’d been drinking – which would be pretty difficult here.

Big Lizzie stood aside mockingly, but as Jenny passed, she shot out a foot and tripped her. Jenny stumbled; then threw down the bedding and confronted her. “What’s the idea?” she demanded.

There might have been a fight, which would have been uneven given Big Lizzie’s size. No doubt the screws would soon have come in on it, but that might have been bad in another way. As it happened a Landing Rep intervened.

Landing reps were something original to this unit. They were prisoners who were relatively trusted, so given some responsibilities, which was considered another positive ‘training’ feature of the place. There was one for each landing, as the name suggested, making three for each wing. They were supposed to convey ‘reasonable’ requests or complaints of the prisoners to the authorities, and tell the authorities of problems and suggestions. Jenny never saw the purpose; it was wildly unlikely that the authorities would take notice of the opinions of the prisoners. Most likely it was a selling point the company used when tendering for the contract. She never saw what was particularly trustworthy about most of persons selected either – except this one. She was called Belinda Connell, and did have the sort of personality which was helpful. Jenny reckoned that the bad wing would be ten times worse without her. Belinda Connell was the prisoner Jenny had most respect for.

“Give over Lizzie!” Belinda Connell said. “She hasn’t done anything to you. Leave her alone.”

“Me?” Big Lizzie pointed a finger at herself with mock innocence. “I never did nothing! She came at me and tripped up!”

“Oh come off it Liz. What satisfaction would it give you? Just more trouble. You’ve been in enough already haven’t you?”

Belinda Connell then said to Jenny, “No don’t.” Jenny had raised her fist.

“Taking the side of that snotty git?” Big Lizzie protested.

“Come on, isn’t that a little bit childish?” Belinda said.

The reproach, and something about the way it was delivered, did the trick. Big Lizzie raised her eyes and played tolerance. She said, “Oh pardon me, la de da!” in a takeoff of a classy accent, and went away.

“Call me if there’s any more from her,” Belinda said to Jenny. “She’s not really a problem, just a big baby.”

“I should have hit back!” Jenny replied. “Thank you though,” she added.

“Don’t let her make you childish too.” Belinda Connell chided her but in such a way you didn’t take offence. “Just call me, till you learn how to handle her yourself.”

Still muttering to herself Jenny picked up the bedding and carried it into the laundry. She had a burst of her unreality feeling again, something she kept getting. Oh, she was taking it all too seriously. Alison was right. Play by the rules, keep out of trouble, and don’t take things seriously. She took a pile of clean sheets and carried them back to the cells, ready for prisoners to make their beds during Late Afternoon period when they were locked in.

She stopped in a corridor. There was a funny noise coming from one cell. She found the door it was coming from, and looked through the spyhole.

She watched a bare behind moving purposefully backwards and forwards and up and down. Peering hard she could see that the other side of the body was moving against a face. Two girls had got themselves into their cell, or someone’s cell, for a ‘tumble’, as a lesbian session was known.

She grinned and shook her head. Once she’d been shocked by such things, and for a longer time she’d found them distasteful. Now, after the time she’d spent in the prison system, she was just factual, and could regard what she was seeing as a joke. A dangerous one here though. As she thought it she heard footsteps and moved away hastily. With her luck she’d be thought to have organised it, unless she kept clear.

But it wasn’t a screw, only Belinda Connell. Landing Rep or not, you could assume another prisoner wouldn’t grass. That was one convention that was almost always obeyed.

“Don’t tell me!” the rep said to Jenny. “I can tell!” She shouted through the door. “Stop it you idiots, you’ll get caught at any moment!”

The noises stopped, and a moment later the door opened. Jenny was mildly startled because one of the girls was Alison. The other was a girl called Barbara, who was in the same wing as Jenny, Cal and Alison. Both girls were naked, and laughing.

“Why, Jenny!” Alison cried. “What are you doing here? Come to join in?”

“No way!” Jenny replied. “I’m staying a straight.”

“We were both passing and heard,” Belinda said. “If we can bump into it like that, don’t you realise you’re asking to get caught?”

“Bump into it!” Alison murmured. “How well expressed.” The other girl had a fit of giggles.

“It’s not even their cell,” Jenny remarked. “They’re on my wing.”

“They’ve gone into an empty cell,” Belinda replied. She went on, “Look dears. If you want the consequences it’s up to you, but if you’re caught at the moment, with me here talking to you, it’ll involve me, and your friend as well.” She pointed to Jenny. “We both object to that.”

“Fair enough Belinda,” Alison said. “Come on Barbara,” she said to the other girl. She patted her on her bottom, which caused Barbara to stop and look at her. Alison extended the pat to a fondle, her hand going side to side, exploring the exact shape of the cheeks. Then she put one hand on Barbara’s mound in front, and stroked and felt, and placed her other hand on Barbara’s breasts.

“For God’s sake!” Belinda said.

They turned with their arms round each other and made for a pile of clothes on the floor. They picked up their pants, then paused, kissed, reached out to each other again and would have resumed their ecstatic handling but for Belinda’s audible impatience. They put their pants on, and then their bras, though with another fondle of each other’s breasts, and briefly put their hands inside each other’s pants and moved them around. But at last they got dressed.

By Saturday Jenny was used to the life here. Lesbianism, though certainly an offence, was cracked down on less than other things – it was on a par with smoking pot, and not nearly as serious as disobedience to an officer, or even talking to one without respect. It didn’t mean it wasn’t a caning offence, but then, most things were caning offences. Jenny saw two more girls get the cane by the time it was Saturday.

A caning could be given by any senior officer. Ordinary screws weren’t empowered to do it, but they could always call the nearest ‘duty senior’, meaning senior screw who was on duty (always at least one on duty in each wing, even in the middle of the night). The girl being caned first had to take her skirt ‘away’ in the jargon of the unit, meaning unzip it all the way down the side and take it off like a towel. (Was this was why they had skirts designed like this?) She had to roll up her blouse and vest and tuck them beneath her armpits, then drop her pants to the floor. She bent over and was given ‘six of the best’ (unless it was more than six of course) on her bare bottom. Canings were always on the bare bottom – at least, Jenny understood that in a public flogging there were strokes in other places as well, but apart from that it was always the bottom. Usually the cane was what was called the ‘medium cane’, a thing two to three foot long, which reverberated as it struck. There existed also the ‘firm’ cane, and the ‘thin’ cane, but Jenny hadn’t seen those yet.

Saturday morning was visiting time, but Jenny wasn’t expecting a visit this first Saturday. Only her brother or one or two friends might visit, and she’d written asking them not to visit her for a couple of weeks. She wanted time to compose herself before she faced anyone from outside.

So she was surprised when she was told to proceed to Reception because she had a visitor. She was more surprised, and not pleased, when she saw who it was.

It was Gavin – her ex-husband. “What are you doing here?” she said staring.

“Just wanted a chat,” he said in a light tone. He was in a good mood it seemed, probably because of seeing her here. Jenny knew how abruptly his moods could change though. One moment he could be happy or placid, then suddenly for any reason, or just something inside his head, he’d be sullen, then in a rage. He could be violent at any time.

“Well sit down,” he said.

“Sit down Prisoner,” the nearest screw said simultaneously.

“Can’t you sit? Had the cane?” he asked with a snigger.

Jenny flushed, and glared at both of them. Afterwards she realised they couldn’t really be supporting each other; but it had come over that way.

“What do you want?” she demanded, sitting down.

“Don’t be full of hostility Jenny. It won’t get you anywhere.”

“I’m here because of what you did!”

“You’re living in a fantasy world, darling. I’m here to tell you something and you’re making it very difficult.” He spoke with pitying superiority.

“Just tell me what you want.”

“There’s been developments. The divorce settlement needs reconsidering.”

“What? Why?”

“Your injury of me has changed the circumstances.”

Jenny glared at him. “We’ve split the money from the house, you’ve got the car, what else do you want?” All she had was her half from the house, and was going to use it to buy a smallest possible car. She’d have preferred to save it, towards a house, but interest rates were below inflation as usual – they wanted people to spend not save – and a car was a necessity nowadays.

“I’ve been seeing a solicitor, and, well, he’s ordering me to sue you for criminal compensation. He’s putting me under a lot of pressure Jenny. But he’s agreed that if I can get you to make over half that money you took from the house, we can call it quits. Otherwise he’ll proceed against you for the lot. Sorry about that.” Gavin gave a grin.

Jenny was speechless. She tried to think. She didn’t know whether there was any legal basis for what he was saying or not. She’d have to call her own solicitor again – if she’d agree to continue acting for her.

“I’m suggesting what’s in your interest Jenny. That’s why I came in person.”

His lies and hypocrisy were too much to bear (his solicitor was ordering him, for God’s sake!). Jenny got up, swinging her arm. “I’d rather rot here for the rest of my life than give you anything more!” she shouted.

She didn’t mean to hit him, to start with, but the response changed his grin to a scowl and he raised his fist in reply, getting to his feet. Jenny recognised one of his lightning mood changes coming on. It became a contest for who could hit the other first, and Jenny won. She got him across the face with a swipe, and it caught him off balance. He swayed back, stumbled against his chair, and fell to the floor.

There was shouting, and she was seized by all the screws in the room. More ran in, and she was hustled away. “I’m not resisting,” she tried to say, but they frog marched her to the office of the senior on duty.

“I’m sorry Officer,” Jenny said breathlessly, as she stood to attention before the duty senior, while three screws stood close behind her. “It was a domestic dispute in which he was incredibly provocative. I reckon he came to gloat – “

“You didn’t have to see him,” the duty senior said, a new woman Jenny had had no dealings with, but who acted as if she knew Jenny. “Refusing a visitor is your prerogative. Assault won’t be tolerated.”

“I didn’t know he was coming. I didn’t know who it was till I went in.”

“You could have asked who it was, and refused to see him.”

“I didn’t think of it.” Jenny added reluctantly, “I apologise Officer.”

“No Prisoner Tillot, it won’t do I’m going to give you six of the best.”

Jenny’s mouth dropped. “Officer, you can’t! You can’t!”

“Silence!”

“Officer, this is incredibly unfair – “

“I said silence! It’s as well for you that the visitor’s left the premises, or I’d invite him to watch you being caned.”

That brought Jenny up short. That would be the ultimate humiliation. However awful what was about to happen, it would be nothing by comparison with that.

The senior added,

“That’s what I’ll recommend to a review if you request one. I’ve also thought of having the other prisoner’s watch, who witnessed the attack. I won’t this time, but will if you do it again.” The senior turned to the computer on the desk and tapped her notes into it. Then she unlocked the cabinet and took out the cane.

“Take your skirt away, then stand in the middle of the room.”

Jenny stood, breathed in and out, then took her skirt ‘away’, placing it on a chair. She stepped into the middle of the room. The door was open, just like last time. There was very little private about canings in Harper Wood.

“Roll up your blouse and vest and tuck them under your arms.” Jenny did as instructed, her face flushing.

“Take down your pants.” Jenny dropped her pants to her ankles.

“Bend over and touch your toes.”

She bent over and touched her toes.

She concentrated on being brave. She’d cried out during her previous caning, and determined not to do so again.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

It hurt like hell. But she managed to be silent, apart from breathing loudly.

Whack! Whack! Whack! The cane crashed three more times across her bare bottom.

One small choked-back cry escaped her, on the last stroke.

“Straighten up and rearrange your clothing.” Jenny straightened, red in the face, and staggered as she pulled up her pants. She got dressed, slowly and painfully.

“You will return to your cell until this evening. Lunch will be brought to you. This evening you will return to normal activities.”

In her cell, she rested on her bunk for the next two hours. She couldn’t sit down till late afternoon, so lay on her front, though she sometimes got up and wandered around. She seethed with rage, mostly against Gavin. Was there no limit to what he could make happen to her? He was out to take her remaining money, and while about it had got her caned as well. Could she ever get revenge on the evil bastard?

“Yeah, well, never mind,” Cal said in her vague way that evening, after Jenny had harangued her about it. “Maybe next week’ll get better.”

“It had fucking better,” Jenny said. “What a fucking first week! Sooner or later it’s got to get better!”