Chapter Four
The cries of what to Helen sounded like a hundred babies echoed relentlessly around the cold, shadowy corridors of the mother and baby unit. The cries reverberated around her head, making her feel that she couldn't escape the noise. It was driving her into despair; a gaping abyss of memories, the ones she had tried so hard to forget, the ones that made her want to scream. She quickly covered her ears with her hands, but it couldn't stop the recollections that played over and over in her mind. She couldn't take this any more. Being surrounded by reminders of what she had lost was slowly tearing her apart. She had to get out now, before she finally snapped and lost the little sanity she was desperately clinging to for dear life; the sanity she had nearly lost two years ago.
Thirty minutes before her shift was over, Helen picked up her belongings and headed towards the main gates where she dropped off her keys with a forlorn nod to the on-duty officer and hastily made her way to her trusty red Peugeot 306. If she'd stayed those last few minutes she was sure she would have fallen to pieces.
Once inside the car she took a moment to compose herself, resting her head uncomfortably on the steering wheel until she felt she had the clarity of mind to drive. Why hadn't she protested more when Karen told her about the role she had been forced into? How could she have even contemplated taking this job? The quicker she got away from Larkhall, the better. Even if going home was like stepping into another prison; one that held her emotionally captive. But unlike her work, she had no keys to unlock herself from it's confines, just like the memories she couldn't leave behind.
The smell of home made cooking wafted under Helen's nostrils as she opened her front door and made her way inside to the warm hallway. But she didn't feel welcomed by the smell, it drifted up her nostrils and made her stomach clench with the thought she'd have to socialise with Sean when all she wanted was to go to bed and sleep- not that she'd been able to do much of that lately. She closed the door with a quiet click, and within seconds Sean had appeared in her line of vision, ladle in hand.
"Sweetheart, I thought I heard you," Helen grimaced as he made his way to kiss her, and she turned her face so his lips met with her cheek. He seemed oblivious to her emotional state and he was in a cheery mood that made Helen feel even worse.
"I've made dinner; your favourite, and I've invited Anna and Michael over. Oh, and Karen from work rang looking for you, said she had to speak to you urgently, so I asked her to dinner too. I hope you don't mind?" before Helen could say that she did, Sean was back in the kitchen leaving over the hot stove. Helen knew it was his way of trying to make up for yesterdays argument between them, but instead of making her want to relent and apologise for her heated tirade, it made her even more angry. Sean could easily have rang her at work and told her of his impending plans, even asked for her permission, but no, here he was, taking yet another decision into his own hands.
What if she'd been busy, had a prior arrangement and couldn't make it? Clearly he hadn't listened to a word she had said to him about his Dickensian attitude towards women.
She seethed in silence as she rid herself of her shoes and suit jacket.
"Why don't you go and put on something nice while I finish up in here. Everyone should be here any minute." Sean bellowed from the confines of her kitchen, his voice barely audible over the whir of the extractor fan. Each syllable that left his mouth made Helen's blood pressure escalate and her anger level following closely behind.
"Wear something nice? I've got a good mind just to throw on a tatty pair of jeans and an old jumper." Helen muttered to herself and slammed her wardrobe door shut with a force that shook the entire structure. She was in no mood to be dictated to, today of all days, and one more word from Sean and he would know all about it.
The door bell rang just as she pulled her top over her head. "Perfect timing" she thought to herself sarcastically.
"I'll get it!" She could hear Sean run through the hallway and greet his guests at the door with an excessively cheery disposition. Helen inwardly cringed.
"What did I ever see in him?" She wondered to herself as she reapplied a hint of powder to her face and ran a brush through her hair at her dressing table. She must have seen something, surely. There had to have been some kind of attraction? Or had it been because Sean had been at the right place at the right time - a time when Helen needed to lose herself and start again. At a time when she risked everything if she didn't lose herself in something so trivial as someone who kept her mind occupied. Had that been what she saw in Sean?
Looking for answers, Helen closed over her eyes and drifted back almost two years.
The drive down from Glasgow to London in the wee hours of the morning had been done in an almost hypnotic state. She hadn't cared that she was in no fit condition to be going anywhere other than to the local funny farm, and even the idea of losing control at the wheel, injuring herself and very possibly others had been no deterrent. She couldn't care less if she injured herself, or died. She wanted to be as far away from Scotland and her Father as she could possibly get and had she not run out of petrol near Watford Junction, just North of London, she knew she would have been half way across the other side of the world by now.
So as fate would have it she landed in London; dazed and confused with nowhere to go. Her only contact in the city was a friend from her University days, whom she had somewhat drifted away from since her return to Scotland. Claire Walker had been there for her since day one, and with a sister-like bond they had been inseparable right through to their graduation. But their job prospects had sadly pulled them apart, until now.
Straight after her studies Helen had gained a position to undertake a once in a lifetime opportunity; a fast track course into the prison service to which she had accepted immediately. She would have been a fool not to; as it would open doors for her to a career she was sure she would love.
However, Her Majesties Prison service wasn't all she had imagined it to be. It was a dark, cold and extremely lonely institution, which left you feeling powerless in your position, even when you had authority. But in spite of its varying and numerous flaws, she had adored her role as wing governor in a small establishment for women convicts. From the first day she had walked into her new office, complete with a nameplate on the door she knew this was her calling.
Inverstardie prison was an ominous looking structure, with its sturdy brick walls and barbed wires fences. Designed and built in the early 1800's by a local Scottish architect, it was tucked away discreetly in the middle of nowhere, amongst the peace of nearby mountains and lochs; the one saving grace of its isolation. And it was by strange coincidence that Helen's new place of work was a short drive to her Fathers home, which she had temporarily returned to under the premise that as soon as she was on her feet she would look for her own little cottage that she could call home. But that day never seemed to come round. After a year she still found herself under the roof where she had grown up, sleeping in the same bed, in the same room where she had lived out a million memories, the bad ones outweighing the good.
Everyday she promised herself that it would be her last in that house, but each day came and went with no firm result in her relocation; much to her despair. Her Father, the local Church of Scotland minister was a good man, held in high regard by his small flock; as a patient, caring soul whom the community could not live without. But Helen could and she would, gladly. For she saw her dad for who he really was. Not the smiling, lovable preacher her neighbours adored. No, she saw the bitter, twisted authoritarian, who daily made her life a misery with his indoctrinations and indomitably indignant opinions on how her life should be run. The Biblical quotations, which seemed to roll off of his tongue, brought out a stubbornness in her, to shun religion, and the parental ties that had bound her to the life of a virtual recluse. That was until a new employee entered her life.
Thomas Waugh seemed to have it all; charm, charisma, intelligence, looks, money, a good job, and best of all, an interest in her. She saw him as her get out clause. The key to the chains her Father had constrained her in, and a way to seek his approval. A relationship with Thomas was just what she needed, or so she foolishly believed. When she agreed to that first date, never did she think something so harmless could cause so much damage. But it did…and she was still paying for it now, and would continue to do so until the day she took her last breath.
