The prison, and especially those women I know who are still there a year on, is so much in my thoughts at the moment. Going back on Monday, if only to a meeting outside of the prison in the Visitors Centre, brought it all back.
It made me think too of my forthcoming novel Bad Girl and how important it is to me to see it in print - a mark of respect to the women in HMP Low Newton and I hope to the staff too.
But first and foremost Bad Girl is a novel. A novel set both inside – in the women’s enclosed world and outside in the twilight world of the stranger who preys on them. Here is a brief extract which I think gives an idea of both worlds -
Towards the end of Chapter twelve -
That night we sat safe, in the pink paradise of Kelly’s cell. Her, me and Mandy, watching TV.
Kelly’s cell was an Aladin’s cave, littered with treasures from the canteen, a posse of them covered every inch of space. But they were not for use. Christ no! Never opened. The bottles of coconut shampoo, apricot shower gel, cheap soap, stayed as they were. They masked the walls, softened the edges, filled the space and convinced you, you were somewhere else altogether.
Her cards said, I love you, I miss you, I’m thinking of you. Her cards had hearts on and so did her curtains. Her curtains were covered with sparkling pink and purple hearts and tied back with ribbon.
We sat there, smoking and waiting. There was no news, they still hadn’ t identified the woman, but you know what the TV’s like they make news, they stretch it out, on and on, even when there is nothing to say.
‘Been trying to phone Louise all day,’ said Mandy
‘Where’s she living now?’ said Kelly drawing on the thin end of her rollie. She passed it to Mandy.
‘With that fucking pimp, Carter.’ Mandy took the tab and sucked hard, then held it out to me.
I took the wet, pinched end between my thumb and finger. ‘Well he’ll be looking after her then won’t he?’
“I wouldn’t bank on it,” said Kelly, “pimps like him fuck off at the first sign of trouble, don’t do you any favours, not when the filth are involved. No fucking way.”
“Pimps and perverts, there all the same,” said Mandy, “they only want you for one thing, and then they call you a slut or a dirty whore just so they can feel alright, chop their balls off if you ask me, burn in hell , they’ve got it coming. God can see everything.”
“What the fuck’s God got to do with it?” said Kelly.
Chap Thirteen
Kill every woman that hath known man by lying with him. Numbers 31:17 .
He pictured her, face down, her pale body on the black earth and the words written in thick ink on her back. He wondered if next time he should take a camera.
