Part Ninety
On the Wednesday afternoon, Karen had done her usual rounds of the wing, and was in her office attempting to assemble September's rate of admissions for the monthly assessment of the rise or hopeful decrease in prison population. It was the first of October, and the yard girls were spending their time sweeping up the fallen leaves of the onset of autumn. But her mind just wasn't on the job today. Ever since she'd left Ashmore yesterday, her thoughts had been with Shell. Little Ronan was the one and only thing that Shell had ever shown a sign of really caring about, and he'd been snatched from her just to keep Fenner and Hedges in a job. Her anger came within degrees of boiling over every time she came in to contact with either of them. She'd kept out of Fenner's way today purely so that she wouldn't subject him to her wrath and so give the game away about where she'd really been yesterday. But she couldn't go on doing that much longer. He was the principal officer on her wing, and deal with him she must. But she would have something to distract her tomorrow. It had been a flash of sheer inspiration that had made her suggest imposing an order of visitation to Larkhall on George, rather than the career-wrecking course of action that John would otherwise have been forced to consider. She briefly grinned to herself when she thought of what reaction George must have had to such news. When Karen had visited George last week, her overall impression was that although George was clearly going through some sort of crisis in her personal life, her professional persona was one of total security. George knew her job and felt utterly in control in her plush, expensive surroundings. But faced with spending a few hours unofficially at Her Majesty's pleasure, she knew that George wouldn't be looking forward to it to say the least. For once, it would be Karen in control, operating on her own territory and George's safety more than anything would be in Karen's hands.
Knowing that with so many conflicting thoughts whizzing round and round in her head that she wouldn't get any more work done that afternoon, Karen switched off her computer and telling her secretary to contact her only if absolutely necessary, she walked out to her car. She hadn't seen Yvonne since the weekend, and thought that a decent hug might just sort her out. She drove the now very familiar route to Yvonne's house, only to see her locking the front door and walking towards the Jag when she turned in to Yvonne's driveway. Yvonne turned and smiled as Karen got out of her car.
"This is a nice surprise," She said, moving towards Karen and kissing her. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Are you on your way out?"
"Yeah, Cassie and Roisin have got to work late, so I said I'd pick Michael and Niamh up from school. Come with me if you like." As Karen locked her car and joined Yvonne in the Jag, she said,
"I wasn't achieving anything useful, and you are far too stunning an incentive for me to skive." Yvonne laughed.
"Don't let Grayling hear you say that."
"He'll have enough to slap my wrist about when he finds out I went to see Dockley yesterday."
"Yeah, but if you'd told him, Fenner would already have a barrister at his disposal, probably paid for by area management." Karen was briefly reminded of the little argument she'd had with Yvonne on the subject of both Jo's and George's fees. One of the things that had almost persuaded Karen against going ahead with her case, was the fact that barrister's fees just weren't something she could afford on even a wing governor's wage. She might have scraped Jo's together, but George being a civil lawyer naturally charged a lot more which would have financially crippled Karen without a second's thought. It took Yvonne a substantial amount of persuasion to get Karen to accept that where this case was concerned, what Karen couldn't afford, Yvonne certainly could. Yvonne pointed out that before her time in Larkhall, she'd have happily illiminated someone like Fenner at the drop of a hat, so why not try it the legal way for a change. After all, hitmen and top barristers did charge similar fees these days. This comparison had made Karen smile, and she had finally accepted Yvonne's help on this.
"I paid some money in to Shell's personal spends today," Karen said after a while.
"I didn't know they had personal spends in a place like Ashmore."
"Oh yeah, for cigarettes and phone cards and everything else the way prison does."
"I guess Dockley doesn't get much help that way."
"That wasn't why I did it. You remember I told you about Fenner's little prostitution racket when I rang you last night? Well, when she was transferred to Ashmore, Fenner cleared out all her possessions but pocketed about two hundred pounds that she'd been saving for her baby. He did it under my very nose and even then, even after everything else, I didn't question the shifty look he had on his face." Yvonne took a hand off the wheel and took hold of one of Karen's.
"You are not responsible for Fenner's light, little fingers."
"I know, but if I'd questioned what he was up too more at the time, maybe Shell wouldn't still be where she is now."
"There's a little self-destructive pattern emerging here," Said Yvonne, slowing at a red light. "Ever since you decided to go ahead with taking Fenner to the cleaners, you seem to have made it your mission to put right every single one of his mistakes, when in actual fact, that is purely and solely for him to do, not you."
"Maybe I'm just trying to put right my part in them."
"I know that, but I think you're seriously overestimating your guilt in Fenner's crimes. He did those things Karen, him, not you. Please will you start believing that."
"Nothing like the odd home truth to brighten up the day," Said Karen drily, but knowing Yvonne was right.
"You wouldn't want me to be any different would you."
"No, not in the slightest. That's one thing that you and George Channing have got in common. You're both determined not to beat around the bush with me, and I like it."
"You've got that fiery little wild card coming to Larkhall tomorrow, haven't you."
"Yeah, I wonder what she'll make of life behind bars, however unofficial and temporary that may be."
"Just keep her out of Al's way. You don't want another death on that wing." Realising Yvonne was being utterly serious, Karen said,
"I'll make it clear to Fenner tomorrow morning to keep McKenzy out of the way. I don't think she'd take too kindly to seeing Snowball's barrister on her territory."
They pulled in to the school carpark and got out to stand with all the other waiting adults.
"It feels odd doing this again," Observed Karen.
"I do it quite often when neither Cassie nor Roisin can," replied Yvonne. There came a surge of children ranging from age five to eleven, all crowding out of the front doors. A seven-year-old girl detached herself from the group and ran towards them.
"Auntie Yvonne," She called, clearly pleased to see her mother's substitute. Niamh ran straight in to Yvonne's outstretched arms and hugged her. Yvonne seemed to take great pleasure in holding the small body to her for a moment.
"Where's Michael?" Asked Yvonne.
"He's just getting his football boots," Said Niamh. A few minutes later they saw Roisin's ten-year-old son strolling nonchalantly towards them, a blue duffel bag clutched in his hand.
"Hi Yvonne," He said, coming up to them.
"He says it's not cool to call you auntie anymore," Said Niamh confidentially. Yvonne laughed and Kar
On the Wednesday afternoon, Karen had done her usual rounds of the wing, and was in her office attempting to assemble September's rate of admissions for the monthly assessment of the rise or hopeful decrease in prison population. It was the first of October, and the yard girls were spending their time sweeping up the fallen leaves of the onset of autumn. But her mind just wasn't on the job today. Ever since she'd left Ashmore yesterday, her thoughts had been with Shell. Little Ronan was the one and only thing that Shell had ever shown a sign of really caring about, and he'd been snatched from her just to keep Fenner and Hedges in a job. Her anger came within degrees of boiling over every time she came in to contact with either of them. She'd kept out of Fenner's way today purely so that she wouldn't subject him to her wrath and so give the game away about where she'd really been yesterday. But she couldn't go on doing that much longer. He was the principal officer on her wing, and deal with him she must. But she would have something to distract her tomorrow. It had been a flash of sheer inspiration that had made her suggest imposing an order of visitation to Larkhall on George, rather than the career-wrecking course of action that John would otherwise have been forced to consider. She briefly grinned to herself when she thought of what reaction George must have had to such news. When Karen had visited George last week, her overall impression was that although George was clearly going through some sort of crisis in her personal life, her professional persona was one of total security. George knew her job and felt utterly in control in her plush, expensive surroundings. But faced with spending a few hours unofficially at Her Majesty's pleasure, she knew that George wouldn't be looking forward to it to say the least. For once, it would be Karen in control, operating on her own territory and George's safety more than anything would be in Karen's hands.
Knowing that with so many conflicting thoughts whizzing round and round in her head that she wouldn't get any more work done that afternoon, Karen switched off her computer and telling her secretary to contact her only if absolutely necessary, she walked out to her car. She hadn't seen Yvonne since the weekend, and thought that a decent hug might just sort her out. She drove the now very familiar route to Yvonne's house, only to see her locking the front door and walking towards the Jag when she turned in to Yvonne's driveway. Yvonne turned and smiled as Karen got out of her car.
"This is a nice surprise," She said, moving towards Karen and kissing her. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Are you on your way out?"
"Yeah, Cassie and Roisin have got to work late, so I said I'd pick Michael and Niamh up from school. Come with me if you like." As Karen locked her car and joined Yvonne in the Jag, she said,
"I wasn't achieving anything useful, and you are far too stunning an incentive for me to skive." Yvonne laughed.
"Don't let Grayling hear you say that."
"He'll have enough to slap my wrist about when he finds out I went to see Dockley yesterday."
"Yeah, but if you'd told him, Fenner would already have a barrister at his disposal, probably paid for by area management." Karen was briefly reminded of the little argument she'd had with Yvonne on the subject of both Jo's and George's fees. One of the things that had almost persuaded Karen against going ahead with her case, was the fact that barrister's fees just weren't something she could afford on even a wing governor's wage. She might have scraped Jo's together, but George being a civil lawyer naturally charged a lot more which would have financially crippled Karen without a second's thought. It took Yvonne a substantial amount of persuasion to get Karen to accept that where this case was concerned, what Karen couldn't afford, Yvonne certainly could. Yvonne pointed out that before her time in Larkhall, she'd have happily illiminated someone like Fenner at the drop of a hat, so why not try it the legal way for a change. After all, hitmen and top barristers did charge similar fees these days. This comparison had made Karen smile, and she had finally accepted Yvonne's help on this.
"I paid some money in to Shell's personal spends today," Karen said after a while.
"I didn't know they had personal spends in a place like Ashmore."
"Oh yeah, for cigarettes and phone cards and everything else the way prison does."
"I guess Dockley doesn't get much help that way."
"That wasn't why I did it. You remember I told you about Fenner's little prostitution racket when I rang you last night? Well, when she was transferred to Ashmore, Fenner cleared out all her possessions but pocketed about two hundred pounds that she'd been saving for her baby. He did it under my very nose and even then, even after everything else, I didn't question the shifty look he had on his face." Yvonne took a hand off the wheel and took hold of one of Karen's.
"You are not responsible for Fenner's light, little fingers."
"I know, but if I'd questioned what he was up too more at the time, maybe Shell wouldn't still be where she is now."
"There's a little self-destructive pattern emerging here," Said Yvonne, slowing at a red light. "Ever since you decided to go ahead with taking Fenner to the cleaners, you seem to have made it your mission to put right every single one of his mistakes, when in actual fact, that is purely and solely for him to do, not you."
"Maybe I'm just trying to put right my part in them."
"I know that, but I think you're seriously overestimating your guilt in Fenner's crimes. He did those things Karen, him, not you. Please will you start believing that."
"Nothing like the odd home truth to brighten up the day," Said Karen drily, but knowing Yvonne was right.
"You wouldn't want me to be any different would you."
"No, not in the slightest. That's one thing that you and George Channing have got in common. You're both determined not to beat around the bush with me, and I like it."
"You've got that fiery little wild card coming to Larkhall tomorrow, haven't you."
"Yeah, I wonder what she'll make of life behind bars, however unofficial and temporary that may be."
"Just keep her out of Al's way. You don't want another death on that wing." Realising Yvonne was being utterly serious, Karen said,
"I'll make it clear to Fenner tomorrow morning to keep McKenzy out of the way. I don't think she'd take too kindly to seeing Snowball's barrister on her territory."
They pulled in to the school carpark and got out to stand with all the other waiting adults.
"It feels odd doing this again," Observed Karen.
"I do it quite often when neither Cassie nor Roisin can," replied Yvonne. There came a surge of children ranging from age five to eleven, all crowding out of the front doors. A seven-year-old girl detached herself from the group and ran towards them.
"Auntie Yvonne," She called, clearly pleased to see her mother's substitute. Niamh ran straight in to Yvonne's outstretched arms and hugged her. Yvonne seemed to take great pleasure in holding the small body to her for a moment.
"Where's Michael?" Asked Yvonne.
"He's just getting his football boots," Said Niamh. A few minutes later they saw Roisin's ten-year-old son strolling nonchalantly towards them, a blue duffel bag clutched in his hand.
"Hi Yvonne," He said, coming up to them.
"He says it's not cool to call you auntie anymore," Said Niamh confidentially. Yvonne laughed and Kar