Chloe in Prison Ch. 17

"See how the mighty are fallen," jeered a woman: it was Tops, the woman with the blackhead-studded nose. "To think I gave you chocolate for a rub-off once. Reckon I ought to get my money back."

"You could get the chocolate back," shouted somebody: there were hoots of laughter, and only then did I see the brown smears in the bulge between Prana's legs."

"Fuck off," screeched Prana. "All of you, fuck off and leave me alone."

Megan and her two friends had pushed their way to the front.

"Fucking hell," Megan said. She stared briefly: then turned, and the three of them walked away again.

"Something smells here," said a barrel-shaped woman, and as though at a signal a number of others began pinching their noses and affecting to gasp at the smell.

"Well well well," said Wilson: "now whose turn is it to shit themselves? Wet the bed did you Paki?"

Then Prana seemed to have a fit: after yelling at everyone to leave her alone, she clenched her fists began shaking them up and down at her sides, rapidly, as though she had no control over her movements; simultaneously she began to beat at the ground with each foot in turn, raising each foot no more than a couple of inches, shaking her shaven head up and down, closing her eyes, then screaming over and over again.

It was grotesque; it was terrifying; there was something of a toddler having a tantrum about it, and also something of a madwoman in an asylum. Whether it was calculated or whether Prana had come to the end of her tether I never knew: but whatever the cause it seemed to work. Most of the women sensed they had gone far enough and began to drift away: one or two lingered to sneer and throw out final insults or word of comfort, then they, too, were pulled away by their friends, and left to find other amusement. A few, Micky, Rose, Fran and some others, remained, fascinated or horrified but not knowing how to respond. Then Prana's movements slowed: I could see her energy flagging: her hands were still flapping, but her fists were unclenched, her feet were still and her head was no longer shaking.

I stepped forward and gently took hold of her hands. When they were quite still again I put my arms round her and hugged her against me. The smell from the nappy assailed my nostrils.

"Prana," I said: "It's all right. It's OK."

She stayed against me, limp in my arms, as I stroked her. Then she said:

"No Chloe, it is not all right. It is not OK. This is what Dawes has done to me."

"But why?" I said. "What happened?"

"You'd better ask Lisa," said Prana.

"Lisa?" I looked round, and saw her, still in Dianne's arms, in the distance. "She's not here," I said.

"Chloe: go away from me," said Prana. "I stink of shit: I am like a plague ship, no-one must come near me. This is what Dawes has done to me."

"I don't care about that," I said, though the smell was unpleasant and I was struggling to avoid showing any aversion.

There was a brief struggle as Prana tried to push me away and I clung on to her, but very quickly she capitulated.

"I will tell you what happened," said Prana, and I felt her body tense, and saw the look of hatred in her eye as she stared out to where the Wardens were standing. "You know they put Lisa in my cell?"

"Yes, I heard." I said.

"You know they made her wear that stupid nappy day and night?"

"Yes," I said.

It was crazy," said Prana. "That girl, she did nothing but wail all day, and tell me she should not be here. I was starting to go crazy myself. I had to do something, she was crying half the night. Then she told me she was sore: she had nappy rash from the urine. So I told her she must take off the nappy sometimes. She was too scared, she said they would beat her. So I told her it was safe to take off the nappy at night, nobody ever comes in the cell after lights-out. At first she said no, but she was so sore I insisted. So after dinner we took off the nappy - it stank Chloe, you cannot imagine - and we put it under the bed. Then I washed her. I used my own flannel, and I washed her pussy with lots of water. I got shit on my flannel, but it did not matter: she was clean and she got some fresh air between her legs.

"In the morning we put the nappy back on, Dawes came in to change her, and no-one was any the wiser.

"Two nights we did this, and there was no problem.

"Then on the third night she wet the bed again.

"'Lisa,' I told her: 'If Dawes sees this you must say the nappy leaked.' But she was too scared to lie. Dawes did see, and she asked Lisa: 'Did you take off your nappy?' When Lisa couldn't answer Dawes knew she did take off the nappy. So she told Clark to fetch her riding crop.

"I could not let this happen, Chloe. So I told Dawes it was me who made Lisa take off her nappy. Dawes did not send for the riding crop: she told Lisa: 'You must wear the nappy for one more week' - and she told me I must also wear a nappy for one week."

"Prana, this is awful," I said.

"Yes Chloe," said Prana, who was still darting looks across at the Wardens. "It is awful. Dawes took away my skirt and knickers, and I was put into this ridiculous nappy. Then she took away the slops-bucket: 'in case you cheat', she said. She told us if either of us took off our nappies we would be thrashed.

"So I thought: I will not eat for a week. I will not eat and I will drink almost nothing: I will not shit and piss in a nappy like a baby.

"But Dawes knew this. She told all the Wardens to wait in our cell whilst we ate and drank - so we could not avoid it.

"Each morning she came to the cell to change us. I had to lie on a changing mat like a baby whilst she washed and wiped me. Also she shaved me: you know what that means, her stinking fingers everywhere.

"But worse happened this morning. We were given our porridge - and I knew at once it did not taste right. I saw Bradley and Clark smirking and I knew they knew something.

"There was laxative in the porridge Chloe. That is why I stink like this: she has done this today deliberately because it is Showers and she wants to humiliate me."

"Cells Thirteen to Eighteen - into the Showers," came Hardiman's call. "Five minutes."

"Prana, that's your call," I said. "You'd better hurry."

"Oh no Chloe: that is another thing: Lisa and I must wait until everyone else has had their shower: then before we can shower Dawes will take off our nappies in front of everybody."

I had absolutely no idea what to say.

"You see how the other women behave," said Prana. "How will I ever live this down? It is not enough that that woman shaves my head: now she has turned me into a laughing stock, and made me stink so nobody will ever come near me."

I had been vaguely aware of a small audience, stood a little way back from us. Now a couple of people came forward - Micky was one - and touched Prana on the shoulder.

"We don't think you're a laughing stock," said Micky. "We think Dawes is sick."

"That's right," said Rose - for she too was there, had foregone the pleasures of Margaret's hand to listen. "Look at us Prana: we're not laughing."

"You are very kind," said Prana, before she burst into tears.

Micky and Rose and a few other girls - including, to my astonishment, Fatima - patted Prana on the shoulders, whilst I held her. But the effect was spoiled when Wilson and a slack-jawed girl who I had seen hanging round with the skinhead, came by:

"Smells like they've moved the shithouse," said the slack-jawed girl. "It used to be down the corridor."

"Look at them," sneered Wilson: "like flies round a dung heap."

"Fuck off both of you," I said, but they had already passed on, laughing.

"You see Chloe," said Prana savagely.

"Ignore them," I said, "they're not worth bothering about."

"Cells Nineteen to Twenty-Four into the Showers," bellowed Hardiman.

"We'll be next Chloe," said Rose.

"Please go now," said Prana. "You are very kind, but please leave me now."

"Me as well?" I asked.

"You too Chloe."

Reluctantly I went off with Rose and Micky. I did not like leaving Prana at the mercy of the likes of Wilson. I was going to go and wait somewhere I could keep a look out, but then I saw Fatima beckoning me. I wanted to thank her for being supportive anyway, so I went up to her.

"Chloe," she said: "it is disgusting what they've done to your friend, I am so sorry."

"Thanks Fatima," I said. "It was good of you to come and comfort her."

"It is a small thing," said Fatima. Then she said:

"Chloe, I know this is not the right time, but I must tell you something."

"What is it?" I said, in no mood at all for religious discussions or more problems.

But these were not on Fatima's mind either. Putting her hands to her face like a shy schoolgirl she turned her head sideways and grinned at me.

"It worked Chloe," she said.

"What worked?" I asked blankly.

"You know," said Fatima.

"No," I said: then I caught on:

"Oh my God Fatima: you've had an orgasm?"

"Sshh Chloe," she said, looking round, but still with a smile on her face. "I did as you told me; and yes, I had my first orgasm."

"Well, that's wonderful Fatima," I said. "I'm very pleased for you."

"Thank you Chloe. That is all: you must go to the showers now."

How strange it was, I reflected as I stood in the showers, how one person could experience joy whilst another was in the depths of despair. Any other time I could have shared in Fatima's happiness; but the pleasure her news had given me was all too brief, and I turned again to anxiety about Prana. For once the steaming water, though it cleaned my skin and purged me of the stale prison smell, could not purge my mind. Peering through the curtain of water I spotted Lisa, standing alone, with somebody walking round and round her as though they were a dog and she was a lamppost to which their lead was fastened. I wondered briefly why she was alone, then remembered that Dianne was no longer in her shower group. If someone as resourceful as Prana was struggling to cope, how on earth would someone as brittle as Lisa avoid having a breakdown?

Our turn ended and, dripping wet, I walked across to the pile of clean towels. I rubbed my hair, dried the upper half of my body, and sat down on a bench to dry my legs and feet. From where I was sitting I could see Prana: she was looking thoughtful, if not anxious, taking a pace or two in one direction then another, and biting her nails.

All of a sudden she stopped; and in a swift movement ripped off her nappy, made an attempt to wipe herself, then cupped the piss-and-shit-filled nappy in her hand and started to walk across the room. Women stepped back from her like the red sea parting.

"Oh my God," I thought: "she's going to throw it at Wilson."

In a trice I dropped the towel and was on my feet, looking round. I couldn't see where Wilson was, though I had a vague idea she was in the shower group after mine. I started to walk towards the showers: I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew Prana was going to need some support. Then suddenly Prana changed direction, and broke into a rapid walk, towards the far wall.

"Oh God - No, Prana - No!" I yelled.

I hesitated barely a second, then flew across the room towards her: together we converged on the Wardens: I saw the Wardens stiffen; I saw Prana bring her right arm back; as she did so I launched myself at her and made a grab for her shoulder; I saw the nappy fly towards Dawes; I saw Dawes twist away and put her arm in front of her face. The next thing I knew I had crashed to the floor, somebody was sitting on my back, and all hell seemed to have broken loose. There was shouting; next to me Prana was also lying on the ground, with Raymond sitting on her back and Bradley holding her feet. Prana was screaming, my shoulder was hurting where I had fallen, the prisoners were crowding up to us shrieking, one of the Warden's shouted 'Fetch the Cuffs', Dawes rushed for the door, Mrs Tiggywinkle rushed for the door, the doors banged open and shut, my face was being pressed into the tiles, and all the time the water from the showers continued to stream down. Then a whistle blew, and Hardiman shouted 'Get Back, All of You. Back into the Showers.' The women began to back off, like cows from a watering hole, and disperse, though without making any less noise. 'Next Lot: Into the Showers,' bawled Hardiman. "Now!"

The Showers were behind me, I could not see what was happening there: on the ground in front of me, facing away, lay Prana, still yelling, as Raymond pinned her arms behind her back: beyond her the doors swung open again, and Mrs Tiggywinkle strode in carrying handcuffs. I saw Raymond cuff Prana's hands behind her back, and felt my own hands clamped together and locked into place. This done, Raymond and Bradley stood up: I felt the weight lift off my own back, and saw that the Warden who had rugby-tackled me to the ground was Clark.

The Wardens stood above us, gathering their breath. Prana ceased to scream.

"Put them on the Pony?" somebody said.

"No," said Hardiman. "Put them in fifty-four and hog them for a couple of hours."

I was hauled to my feet; somebody took a grip on my hair. Prana likewise was dragged upright.

"Move," Hardiman said.

"I was trying to help," I said desperately.

"Shut up and Move!" Hardiman roared.

With Raymond and Bradley clutching an arm each, Prana was propelled through the doors. I walked behind, trying to avoid the frequent prods in the back administered by Clark. Once in the corridor we were marched round several corners, until we came to a halt outside a cell numbered 54. There was a kerfuffle, as nobody seemed to have a key. Then Dawes reappeared: I noticed that her cuffs were wet, and that there were brown marks on the shoulder of her uniform jacket.

She was carrying a riding crop.

Without a word she pushed past the other Wardens, selected a key from the bunch attached to her waist, and unlocked the door.

Cell 54 was the most dismal place I'd ever seen. There were no beds: just two wooden pallets, side by side on the floor. The walls were filthy, the wash basin was cracked and dusty, and clearly hadn't been in use for some time. The floor, too, was covered in dust and chips of plaster.

"In," said Dawes.

I followed Prana inside, wincing at the stench of stale urine. Clark and Raymond followed us, whilst Bradley stood in the doorway.

"Officer Raymond," said Dawes. "Go and find Officer Hackett. Tell her there has been a serious assault on a Prison Officer and she is to leave the laundry and assist you in the Showers. Officer Bradley: go to the Stores and return here with four sets of handcuffs. Officer Clark, come with me to the Showers."

The Officers filed out into the corridor. Dawes was last to leave: before she locked the door she narrowed her eyes and gave us a look which seemed to bore into us like a dentist's drill.

"I'll be back to deal with you very soon," she said.