Part Ten
On the Thursday morning, Connie made her way down to breakfast with the other prisoners, her meeting with George the previous day still uppermost in her mind. George had been so kind in bringing her back to the wing, and sitting with her whilst the knowledge of Connie's pregnancy began to sink in. Connie had been awake most of the night, going over and over the implications of her current condition. It wasn't even as though she and Ric had been careless during their occasional encounters. Connie had been on the pill for years, and had taken it as regularly as clockwork. So why in god's name had this happened to her? She couldn't get her mind away from the question of what would Ric say if and when she told him? But then again, why did she have to tell him? If she decided not to keep it, which was looking more and more likely by the hour, he wouldn't have to know.
But as she joined the queue of women waiting at the servery for their breakfasts, another consideration reared its ugly head. The smell of cooking sausages and scrambled eggs was playing havoc with her senses. Dropping her plastic plate and mug down on the servery counter, she fled back to her cell, the aroma of grease making her stomach flip over in protest. Observing Connie leave in something of a hurry, Julie J said, "She don't look too good, does she." "No," Julie S agreed. "If I didn't know better, I'd say there might be another mum on the wing before too long." "Why not take her up some tea and toast," Julie J suggested. "See if she's all right." Armed with Connie's plate which contained two slices of very lightly buttered toast, and her plastic mug full of strong sweet tea, Julie S left the servery and made her way up the metal stairs. But she was stopped in her tracks by Sylvia. "Where are you going with that?" She demanded, eyeing the mug and plate with suspicion. "It's for Connie," Julie told her. "She isn't very well this morning." Appearing to think over this explanation, Sylvia said, "Oh go on. I haven't time to worry about her this morning." Then, as Julie continued on her way upstairs, Sylvia called out, "And tell Lady Muck that she can't expect breakfast in bed every morning."
Quietly pushing open the door to Connie's cell, Julie found her leaning out of the tiny window, obviously in an effort to get some fresh air, with a cigarette held in a slightly shaking hand. "You all right, darlin'?" She asked, putting the mug and plate down on the virtually empty desk. "Not really," Connie replied, turning to face her. "You're in the club, aren't you?" Julie asked with a serious expression. "That's one way of putting it," Connie said with a slight smile at the corners of her mouth. "I've brought you some tea and toast," Julie told her, immediately getting back to practicalities. "You should try and eat something, even if it only comes back up afterwards. Then you should try and go back to sleep for a bit." "Was it really that obvious?" Connie asked, slightly amazed at the other woman's level of intuition. "Half of us in here are mums," Julie told her. "So someone would have worked it out eventually. Do the screws know?" "Not yet," Connie said after taking a sip of the hot strong tea. "But I suppose it's only a matter of time."
Julie had left her, going back downstairs to her duties. Connie sat on the bed, alternately nibbling at the toast and sipping at the tea. These women were taking care of her, really looking out for her. Just how many of her colleagues at St. Mary's would do the same? Though this wasn't really fair, she admonished herself gently, because they were all trying to help her in any small way possible. Inwardly scolding herself for being quite so miserable, she put the mug and plate back on the desk, lay back down and soon drifted into an exhausted sleep.
As Dr. Thomas Waugh traversed the long and winding corridors towards his Governor's office, he reflected that he couldn't possibly have a more understanding and practically minded employer. Karen Betts was that gratifying mixture of warm yet highly professional, with a clear understanding of what she could and could not do, yet with a natural instinct to occasionally bend the odd rule if the situation demanded it. She would always try to do the best by both her staff and her prisoners, something that was usually appreciated by staff and prisoners alike. Thomas occasionally found himself marvelling at the pressure that divided loyalties often placed on his governor, something that she appeared to take in her stride. As he let himself through the last gate to the admin wing, he came face to face with Nikki. Now here was a strange one. Nikki Wade had started out as a prisoner. She had then sought an appeal which she had won, and had then, after a few years, come into the prison service from the other side of the wire. Thomas had been a little sceptical about having an ex-con as a wing governor, but the experiment appeared to have been a resounding success. He found her very easy to work with, apart from some initial awkwardness over their mutual interest in Helen Stewart, or Wade as she was now. But Nikki had the same drive that Karen did, a very intense need to balance the requirements of both the staff who worked underneath them, as well as the prisoners in their care.
"Nikki," Thomas said as he came face to face with her. "I'm glad I've seen you. I'm on my way to see Karen about one of your inmates. We might have something of a problem." "I was on my way to see her too," Nikki told him as they continued down the corridor. "Who is the problem concerning?" "Connie Beauchamp." "I might have known that she would give us more problems than the rest put together, so let's hope that we can sort it out."
When Karen called Come in, she looked pleased to see the both of them. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" She said as they took seats in front of her desk. "Connie Beauchamp," Thomas said without preamble. "She's pregnant." "Oh marvellous," Said Nikki with a heavy sigh. "Her being a doctor, you might have thought she would be able to avoid things like that." "It happens to the best of us, Nikki," Karen replied, clearly sticking up for Connie. "And she isn't just a doctor. She's one of the finest heart surgeons in the country, something I would advise you not to forget." "It's not as though I've been allowed to forget it," Said Nikki a little defensively. "But we've dealt with pregnant women on the wings before, so I don't see what the problem is." "Someone like Connie Beauchamp," Replied Thomas reasonably. "Is far more likely to end up in a fight than your average prisoner, mainly because she will think that she can defend herself verbally, without giving any thought to the physical consequences of being far more intelligent than a good proportion of your inmates." "Just think about the likes of Natalie Buxton who goes in for the kill first and thinks about the consequences later." "Yeah okay," Said Nikki, reluctantly conceding that Karen and Thomas were probably right. "So what do we do?" "That all depends on what she wants to do about the pregnancy," Said Thomas. "I'll go and talk to her after we've finished here. There is the possibility that she doesn't even know yet." "Well, she didn't mention it during the induction interview we had with her," Put in Karen. "And you'd have thought that if she had known, she would have raised the issue then." "The point is," Continued Thomas. "You need to warn all your officers to be a little careful with her, should they be in a position where they have to haul her off down the block, for example." "And you also need to warn them to be even more on the look out for any possibly brewing trouble," Added Karen. "That's an officers' meeting I won't be looking forward to," Said Nikki dismally. "I can just imagine Sylvia saying that it wasn't her problem to be looking out for inmates who've got a bun in the oven, no matter how professionally special they are." "The joys of being a Wing Governor," Said Karen with remembered irritation, thinking that Nikki had had a fairly problem free time of it so far, compared to some of her own days in Nikki's job.
Leaving Karen and Nikki to the rest of their meeting, Thomas made his way down to G wing, thinking that Connie would in all likelihood be confined to her cell. It was the time of morning lock up, and unless the inmates had either jobs or education classes to keep them occupied, they would be left in their cells until lunchtime. Connie had fallen back to sleep after Julie had brought her breakfast, but when the sound of a key turning in her door woke her, she hurriedly sat up and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. Her face broke into something of a smile when she observed the very attractive man standing in her doorway. "Mrs. Beauchamp," He said, coming in and pushing the door too behind him. "I'm Dr. Thomas Waugh, the Senior Medical Officer for Larkhall." "Pleased to meet you," Said Connie, standing up and holding out her hand. "I like to make myself known to all new prisoners," Thomas replied, taking her hand and briefly shaking it. "Working in this place must be worse than A and E on a Saturday night," Connie said dryly. "It does get a bit fraught from time to time," Thomas agreed with her. "I wanted to talk to you." "Sit down," Connie invited. "Were you aware," Thomas asked as he took the hard wooden chair at her table. "That the urine sample that we take for a drugs test on your arrival, is also tested for pregnancy?" "I am now," Connie said with a shrug. "Did you know that you're pregnant?" Thomas asked, seeing Connie's mental barriers immediately going up. "I wasn't sure, not until yesterday," Connie told him. "The smell of my lawyer's coffee made me throw up." "I see," Thomas replied, accepting her explanation. "How far along do you think you are?" "No more than eight weeks, perhaps less." "Well, give it a few more weeks and we can do a scan, find out for sure." A brief look of fear came over Connie's face, as though his mention of a process in which she would actually be able to see her baby was terrifying to her. "Has this come as an enormous shock?" Thomas asked kindly, seeing the mental struggle going on behind her eyes. "You could say that," She replied dully, not wanting to appear too weak in front of this man. "It certainly wasn't planned, and now that I'm in here, even if it is only remand, I really don't know what I'm supposed to do about it." "Anything you decide to do, will be one hundred percent your decision. Nobody will try to push you in either direction, and if they do, they'll have me to answer to, not to mention your Governor. You have plenty of time to go into your options, such as they are. My immediate concern is how you feel right now." "Apart from the morning sickness and being extremely tired, I'm okay," Connie replied, wiping a hand across her face to dash away a few tears that had risen unbidden to her eyes. "Forgive me for saying this, but you don't look it," Thomas told her honestly. "Please don't be kind to me," Connie almost begged him, her slightly hoarse voice telling him all he needed to know. "To some extent, Connie," He said with a slight smile. "That's what I'm here for." "I suppose I can't help wondering what's going to happen next. I get arrested for something I didn't do and get put in here, then I discover I'm pregnant. Where's the third disaster?" "Hopefully there won't be one," Thomas replied, trying his best to sound optimistic in the face of her distress. "Oh, don't you believe it," Connie told him bitterly. "There's sure to be something else on its way, something else I can't control."
They talked a little while longer, with Thomas trying to get her off the subject of either her incarceration or her pregnancy. "I might learn something from you while you're in here," he said thoughtfully, thinking that he could probably learn an awful lot from her given the chance. "I'm terrified of getting rusty," She admitted gloomily. "You won't," he told her confidently. "As long as everything goes to plan, you'll be back wielding a scalpel before too long." "Let's hope you're right," Connie replied, her tone holding no confidence in this outcome whatsoever. "Oh, come on," Thomas said with an encouraging smile. "Your reputation for having an everlasting amount of fighting spirit precedes you." "I won't ask where you heard that little tit bit of information," Connie told him dryly. Then an idea occurred to her. "When I get thoroughly bored of any reading material I can lay my hands on, would I be able to borrow some of the academic journals that are probably littering your office, but which you probably haven't got around to reading?" "Feel free," Thomas replied cheerfully. "There's a whole pile of them in the corner of my office, and it just keeps getting bigger." "Does the hospital wing really have an ultrasound machine?" Connie asked, referring back to what he'd said about being able to determine how far along her pregnancy was. "Oh yeah," He told her. "Not long after Karen Betts became Governing Governor, I talked her into getting one, seeing as we get an awful lot of women who are at different stages of pregnancy. I have to provide antenatal care for the women, and it seemed like a good idea." As he was walking out the door and preparing to lock her back in again, he said, "If you get really bored, you could always help me with the odd surgery or two." "Can you imagine Sylvia Hollamby's face if I did?" "You shouldn't incite a member of staff to mock their fellow officers," He told her with a broad grin on his face, thinking that Connie Beauchamp could certainly provide him with some like-minded company if nothing else.
In the middle of Thursday afternoon, George was sitting at her desk, taking five minutes to drink a cup of coffee and smoke a cigarette. Her clients were proving to be particularly abrasive and demanding today, something she would thankfully leave at the end of the afternoon. Kay had sent her an e-mail, giving her details of hers and Marino's flight, saying that they would probably arrive late Friday afternoon England time. George had replied, saying that she would pick them up from Heathrow and that Kay and Marino could stay with her for the weekend, as long as Marino didn't mind too much. But when the phone call came, she was more than pleasantly surprised. "There's a Captain Marino calling from America," her secretary told her. "Shall I put him through?" "Yes," George replied, somewhat intrigued by what this call might be about. "George Channing," She said, picking up the phone. "Ms Channing, this is Pete Marino," He said, slightly wrong footed by George's clipped, aristocratic tone. "It's nice to finally talk to you," She replied, trying to put him at ease. "Same here," He agreed immediately. "The Doc's talked a lot about you. I gather you need our help, which is why we're coming to England tomorrow. The thing is, I had an idea which you might want to consider, and if you say yes, it'll take some organising." "Now you've got me really curious," George told him with a smile in her voice. "I talked it over with the Doc, and she said I should talk to you. What would you think about me questioning Connie Beauchamp herself, at her supposed crime scene?" George remained quiet for a moment or two, trying to take in the full ramifications of his suggestion. "The reason I think it would be a good idea," Marino continued, "Is that it will tell us one way or the other if she's guilty." "Or innocent," George put in automatically. "Yeah, that too," Marino conceded. "It's certainly novel," George told him ruefully. "Though I'm not sure how the prison service is going to take it." "So you're up for it?" "If we can pull it off, then yes. The prosecution would never have thought of this one, intelligent as he is. I'll do some phoning around, talk to a few people, and I'll let you know the outcome when I see you tomorrow. Will that suffice for the present?" "It sure will," Marino replied, the gratification practically oozing from his tone. Putting the phone down, George gazed thoughtfully up at the Munnings on her office wall. Could she pull this one off? She wasn't sure. But then it wasn't her who had to succeed on this point. It was Captain Pete Marino. Not only did he have to prove Connie's innocence to the three of them, George, Kay and himself, but he would eventually have to convince a jury of Connie's innocence, a nut that might be far harder to crack than he thought.