Part One Hundred And Eighty
Karen didn't wake until after ten on the Tuesday morning, George's sleeping pill having knocked her out for nearly eleven hours. As she drifted into consciousness, she could hear the singing birds through the open window, and see the curtains gently flapping in the breeze. Dragging herself listlessly out of bed, she took a long, cool shower, hoping the temperature of the water might help to fully wake her up. Her limbs still felt like lead, and her brain was still very muzzy with sleep, but she did feel a little more rested than she had done the previous day. Going downstairs, she found George sat at her computer, clearly on the phone and arguing with her client. Seeing Karen's reflection in the monitor, George gave her a smile. As Karen made them both a coffee, she looked out at the garden, the sun practically begging her to come and sit out in it. Placing George's mug on the desk beside her, and briefly touching her cheek in lieu of a kiss, Karen took her own coffee outside, and reclined comfortably on one of the sun loungers. She'd picked up a copy of The Guardian from the coffee table in the lounge, but found that nothing inside it could hold her concentration for long. Her eyes would linger on a sentence for minutes at a time, until she eventually put the paper down in disgust. This wasn't her, this wasn't the Karen Betts she knew. She'd always been able to keep her mind on anything she pleased, so why not now? Had the death of her son wrought such horrific changes in her? This must be depression at its worst, she thought cynically. Well, at least as bad as it gets, before the temptation to off oneself finally kicked in, and that was no way to be thinking on a day like this. She gazed up at the endless blue sky, trying to let her mind go completely blank, trying to blot out all the images that swam unbidden in front of her eyes.
When George had finished her infuriating phone call, she took her coffee outside, and perched on the sun lounger not far from Karen. "That sounded like a difficult one," Karen observed, as George took a long, grateful swig of the coffee. "Most of my clients are," She replied cynically. "They think that just because they're dealing in millions, they can expect me to perform miracles. Mind you, I should come out of this one with at least half a million, so I suppose it's worth it. How do you feel this morning?" "Erm, flat," Karen eventually said, not entirely sure how to describe the empty feeling inside her. "Are you sure you don't mind me being here?" "No, of course not," George reassured her, feeling that a sort of polite distance had risen between them, probably since the previous night, when Karen had raised the subject of George's possibly wandering affections. "I phoned Neil this morning, and told him where you were, and he said for you to take as long as you need." "Meanwhile, precisely who is taking care of my prison?" George couldn't help but smile at Karen's possessiveness. "Darling, they can manage without you, at least for a little while." "I know it sounds stupid," Karen admitted sheepishly. "But I almost wish they couldn't." Putting her empty mug down on the patio, George moved over to Karen, leaning over her and tentatively putting her arms round her. George knew that the distance between them was entirely her fault, and at least for now, she wanted to rectify that. Karen needed her to be strong, stable, there for her to lean on, not to be moving away from her like a piece of floating drift wood, that appeared to be forever out of reach. When their lips met, gently exploring the mouths they knew so well, Karen's arms came slowly round her, holding George to her just for that short while. "Thank you," Karen said softly into her hair. "What for?" George gently enquired with a smile. "Just for being you," Karen told her, which made George feel an almost unbearable twinge of guilt, for what she must put Karen through in the fairly near future. Yes, any progress between her and Jo might have been put on hold for the last few weeks, because Karen's plight had seemed to put everything on hold for a time, but it couldn't stay like that forever. George was tempted to stay there for the foreseeable future, half sitting, half lying on the sun lounger with Karen, but hearing the phone ring brought her out of her contemplation. Groaning theatrically, she gently disentangled herself from Karen and got to her feet. "John said he would drop in for lunch," She said, making her way back to the house, wishing that they could have maintained that brief feeling of togetherness, something they hadn't felt for far too long.
At just after one, as duly expected, John arrived, bearing the fabulous home made sandwiches that only the delicatessen near the court knew how to make, plus a punnet of peaches. George was yet again in the middle of an argument with a client who clearly had far more money than sense, so John went straight out to the back garden, after depositing his purchases in the kitchen. "She sounds harassed," He commented, sinking gratefully down onto the garden bench. "It's been like that for most of the morning," Karen told him. "Well, if she will insist on representing the likes of Tim Listfield, she's only got herself to blame," He said loftily, making Karen smile. "Oh, I don't know," She slightly teased him. "I think even you might defend this one, if you were likely to get half a million out of it." "Typical," John said disgustedly. "I practiced law to achieve justice, not to increase my bank balance." "At least she's honest about it," Karen found herself defending George. "Who is?" George asked, emerging out through the kitchen door with their lunch. "You, and your defense of utter scoundrels, all in the name of financial gain." "And precisely what else would you have me do it for?" She asked, pouring them all some freshly squeezed orange juice. "And no," She said, holding up a finger and wagging it at him. "I don't need one of your speeches about the sheer delight of achieving justice for some poor, cash strapped individual, because I've heard it all before." "That bad?" He said with a broad smile, not rising to the bait. "Yes, and getting worse by the minute. I thought that working at home, might mean I could take the odd five minutes to relax, but no chance." Karen listened to them fondly bickering, loving the sheer familiarity of it. She was amazed that Jo ever managed to get a word in edgeways when the three of them were together. Now where had that thought come from, the three of them together? She was about to begin analysing it further, as she took a long and satisfied drag of her after lunch cigarette, when the phone rang, where George had placed it on the garden table. "George Channing," She answered, obviously expecting it to be one of her infamous clients. "Nikki, calm down," She added, putting Karen immediately on the alert. There was a short silence, followed by George's resounding words of, "Absolutely not. Nikki, I don't care what's happened. Karen isn't going anywhere near that place for the foreseeable future, is that clear?" Knowing that Nikki would never have disturbed her unless it was a matter of severe importance, Karen swiftly removed the cordless from George's hand, earning herself a glare of monumental proportions for her trouble. "Nikki," She said. "What's happened?" "Denny's on the hospital wing roof," Nikki told her. Instantly, all the blood drained from Karen's face. Not now, she thought in horror, not today, please! "Karen, are you still there?" Nikki demanded, and Karen could hear the concern in her voice. "Yes, I'm here," Karen said, trying to bring her scattered wits under control. "How long has she been up there?" "I don't know, but not longer than half an hour. The thing is, we think she went up there with a razor blade." "Shit," Karen said in response. "This just gets better and better." "I'm sorry to have phoned you, but I really didn't know what else to do." "Don't be silly," Karen reassured her. "You've done exactly the right thing. Now, I need you to get everyone banged up, and you need to pass that round the other wings. I don't want anyone in the exercise yard who doesn't need to be. The prison is on complete lock down until this is sorted out. On second thoughts, keep the Julies and Tina, because their encouragement from the ground wouldn't go amiss. What about Lauren?" "Cassie's picked her up already." "Yvonne mustn't know anything about this, not until we know where it's going. Do we know why Denny might have done this? Oh no, hang on, stupid question, Lauren's getting out today will have sparked this off. Don't do anything else till I get there." When she'd switched off the phone, both John and George were staring at her, neither of them having seen that light of determination in her since Ross had died. "Denny's up on the hospital wing roof, with a razor blade of all things," Karen told them. "And you're planning to go and talk her down," John said succinctly. "I can see it in your face." "Yes, if I have to," Karen told him without demur. "No way," George said firmly. "You are not doing anything so stupid as to put yourself in danger like that." "Oh, and just what else do you suppose I should do?" Karen demanded hotly. "Allow Nikki to do it, someone who's only been in the job just over two months?" "Karen, this is the last thing you should do," George tried to plead with her, avoiding answering the question. "Tough," Karen said curtly, getting to her feet and walking towards the house. "Because it's what I must do. Can I borrow your car?" She asked over her shoulder, remembering that hers was still sitting in the prison car park. "Would you like me to give you a lift?" John asked her, seeing that she wasn't going to be dissuaded from this reckless course of action. "Yes, if you could," Karen agreed, finally feeling the beginnings of the surge of energy she had always known.
As he drove, John could feel the almost palpable adrenalin coursing through Karen's veins. Here, now, she had a purpose, something that directly required her to be the incredibly clever and sensitive woman he knew her to be, and he could see that this was what she needed. "Precisely what are you planning to do?" He asked her, though thinking that he could probably guess. "If I tell you before we get there," She said with half a smile. "You won't take me the rest of the way." Now knowing that he was right in his estimations, John rang Coope, telling her to cancel court for the afternoon, because something had cropped up that he had to deal with. "But what reason shall I give the court officer, Judge?" She asked, hating it when he put her on the spot like this. "I don't care," John said, turning into the road where Larkhall stood. "This is very important, so please just do it." "And so's this trial, Judge," She said disapprovingly. "Not more than this it's not," He countered back. "One afternoon won't do any harm." When he'd switched off the phone, Karen said, "You didn't have to do that," Knowing that he was fully intent on coming with her into Larkhall. "And if you're going to do what I think you're going to do, I would far rather be nearby, actually trying to give you some support for a change." Realising that he was indirectly referring to how he'd dealt with his knowledge of what was happening to Ross, Karen briefly rested a hand over his where it lay on the gear stick. "Thank you," She said, immensely appreciating the fact that he was prepared to put everything on hold just to be there for her.
As he followed her as she moved rapidly through the gates and corridors of Larkhall, he could see her brain working feverishly away, clearly amassing all the things she would need for her mission. The association area of G wing was deserted, but they could hear the sound of voices from the exercise yard. When Karen went outside, she was immediately greeted to the sight of the Julies and Tina, with Nikki, Gina, Dominic and Sylvia looking up to Denny, sitting far above them on the hospital wing roof. Taking in the scene with a practiced glance, Karen was forcefully reminded of the first time she'd come to Larkhall, when she'd stood here with Simon Stubberfield, watching as Zandra was doing precisely what Denny was now. When Nikki came over to her, she didn't bat an eyelid at John's presence, but continued talking to Karen as they made their way back to G wing's officers' room. "Has she said anything whilst she's been up there?" Karen wanted to know. "Not as far as I know," Nikki replied. "Which isn't good. If she was doing this purely for the sake of protest, we'd have heard something out of her by now." "How's she been over the last week?" "The same as normal," Nikki said in obvious bewilderment. "Absolutely no sign that this was going to happen." "Dominic's her personal officer these days. What about him?" "He knows no more than you or me." "And you say she's got something up there for cutting? When the hell did that start? Denny's never been a slasher, at least not as far as I knew." "God knows," Nikki said resignedly. "We only know that because Buki told one of the Julies. It was Buki she got it from." "That figures," Karen said disgustedly. "Buki knows more about self-harming than I do after years of nursing." Grabbing the wing's first aid kit from the shelf, Karen began going through it, making sure it held everything she might need to deal with any self-inflicted wounds Denny might have. Watching her do this, Nikki suddenly realised with blinding clarity precisely what Karen intended to do. "Karen, you can't," She said in horror. "Try me," Karen replied, not meeting her gaze. "Don't be bloody stupid," Nikki said vehemently. "You would be putting yourself at one hell of a risk." "Tell me," Karen said, turning to face her with the first aid box in her hands. "Didn't Helen do something similar, on my very first visit here, if I remember rightly?" "And do you have any idea how terrified I was when she did that?" Nikki threw back, not caring that they had John there as an audience. "Every bloody minute she was up on that roof scared the living daylights out of me." "Then lucky for me I don't have an unrequited lover, or should I say a lover of any kind, waiting for me to come down safely." There was a slightly stunned silence as she said this, and Karen knew, as if a light had suddenly been switched on in her brain, that this was true. That's why she and George had been drifting apart, because George was no longer hers to lose. She wasn't just John's any more; she was John's and someone else's. But this was hardly the time for dwelling on such things. "Karen, please just be careful up there," Nikki said gently, feeling the undercurrent in the conversation and not entirely understanding it. "The only consideration here is Denny," Karen said quietly. "And if I don't get her down from there in one piece, Yvonne will never forgive me." As Karen walked out of the door with the first aid box under her arm, Nikki suddenly grabbed one of the two-way radios from the cupboard and rushed after her. "At least take this with you," She said, catching up to Karen and slipping it into the pocket of her skirt. "That way you can at least call for back up if you need it." Back in the office, Nikki turned to John. "Why didn't you try to stop her?" "Because as reckless and dangerous and stupid as this course of action may be," John said quietly. "I think she needs to do it." "What did she mean, Yvonne would never forgive her?" "That's not something I can tell you, Nikki," He said, unwilling to break Karen's confidence. He knew why, because he could all too clearly remember that day, that day on which George and Jo had questioned her so ruthlessly, that day on which Karen had given them Lauren's name, handing her over to the justice system for punishment. "I've got to tell Grayling about this," Nikki said, seeing that she wasn't going to get any more out of him. "After which I suspect he will suspend her," John said meditatively. "Which in the circumstances may be no bad thing."
As Karen climbed the numerous staircases, she began automatically cataloguing the precautions she would need to keep in mind whilst up on the roof. Denny would very likely be in a highly volatile state, in which anything could quite literally push her over the edge. Karen had absolutely no idea where her sudden surge of energy had come from, but it felt as though she had finally reconnected herself to her own private source of electricity. Just how had Denny got up there in the first place? She must have stolen someone's keys. Well, woe betide whoever's keys they had been. As she approached the bottom of the last narrow flight of stairs, that would take her up to the roof, Karen slowed. She didn't want to surprise Denny, but she also didn't want to give Denny too much warning that someone was coming up to her.
When Karen finally stepped out onto the narrow ledge, she saw that Denny was sitting forlornly against the steeply rising slate, with her hands resting in her lap, and with something, presumably the razor blade clutched in her right hand. Karen simply stood there, assessing her surroundings, gradually waiting for Denny to notice her presence. Eventually, seeming to sense that she was no longer alone up here, Denny looked up. "What're you doing here?" She asked, though with no malice in her tone. "I might ask you the same," Karen said, though not moving from where she stood. "Can I sit down?" "Sure," Denny replied. "Ain't as if it's my roof. Zandra was the last one to come up here, and that was ages ago." "Do you know that Zandra's roof protest, was the very first impression I had of Larkhall?" "That was the first thing you saw when you came here?" Denny asked, a little stunned by this revelation. "Yes," Karen said with a wry smile. "And yet I still came back." "You're crazy, man," Denny said, wondering why Karen always seemed to appear when she was going a bit off the rails.
Down on the ground, John and Nikki now joined the little group of officers and inmates, after Nikki had phoned Grayling to put him in the picture. "Grayling's on his way," Nikki told Gina as they joined her, all gazing up at where Denny sat. They observed as Karen at first stood off to one side, waiting for Denny to speak to her, and then as she sat down and they began talking. In the unnatural hush of the exercise yard, they could hear clearly everything that was being said between Karen and Denny. There weren't even many shouts from the banged up prisoners, because the vast majority of them were gazing out of their windows, all trying to catch glimpses of Denny, and most of them eager to hear anything they could. John couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Their Karen was, sitting up on the roof, at least four floors up, as coolly and calmly as if she were still sitting out in George's back garden. This was Karen at her most effective, he thought to himself, this was Karen doing the thing she did best. They all watched as Karen lit two cigarettes, handing one to Denny, who briefly put down the razor blade in order to take it.
"Are you going to tell me why you're up here?" Karen eventually asked, thinking that at least Denny had chosen a nice day for it, meaning that they could stay up here for hours if necessary. "I just wanted a bit of peace, innit," Denny told her miserably. "Peace from what?" "This place, my waste of space life, everything. Only it don't quite work like that, does it, because there ain't no one that can escape from their thoughts." A particularly philosophical thought to come from Denny, Karen reflected. "I just want to not have to think any more." You and me both, Karen silently agreed with her. Slowly moving her hand towards the razor blade, Karen moved to take it, but Denny's hand closed over it first. "I didn't know you'd started cutting," Karen told her, wondering just where this sudden urge had come from. "I ain't done it for ages," Denny replied. "I just felt like it." "Why did you used to do it?" "I ain't no good with words, and no one ever listens. Cutting's just a way of saying stuff I don't know how to say." "In the same way as your painting does?" "Yeah." Glancing at Denny's left arm, Karen could see that Denny had already begun carving tiny indentations into her skin, long before she'd got there. The scratches weren't deep, and the blood loss was extremely minimal, but the two or three superficial gashes were evidence of how bad she was feeling.
"How do you feel about Lauren getting out?" Karen asked, knowing that this was at the heart of the problem. "It had to happen some time," Denny said dismissively; almost distractedly begin to move the blade over the skin of her left arm. "The judge only gave her two years, and she's done over eighteen months, so it was obvious she'd be getting out pretty soon." "That doesn't tell me how you feel about it," Karen said, slightly impressed at Denny's avoidance of the question. "How the bloody hell do you think I feel?" Denny demanded furiously, turning on Karen and virtually scorching her with her anger. "She left me here to rot, just like every other person I've ever cared about. What is it with people always leaving me here? Even my own mother did it, but then that wasn't the first time she'd ever left me. She preferred the vodka bottle over me, do you know that? She'd rather go to the pub, than stay home and look after her kid. I was nine when the social took me away, and she didn't even bloody notice! Then when she saw me in here, she didn't even bloody recognise me. I asked her if she had any kids, and she said no, said they was more trouble than they're worth. She came to visit me a couple of times, after she got out of here, but then she went back on the drink. I told her I didn't want to see her for a year, to give her a chance to dry out, but when I started trying to find her again, she died. My mother, Shaz, Shell, Zandra, Lauren, they've all either died, or got out, or been sent to a place like Ashmoor, but either way, they're all gone." During the whole of this diatribe, Denny had been randomly digging the blade into her skin, occasionally drawing blood, and at other times simply leaving the faintest of marks. It was as if she were painting with her blood, drawing the abstract, wavey lines of her thoughts into her flesh. Her arm was bleeding freely by this time, but Karen knew that it may be fatal to stop her, any interference possibly causing her to do something far more drastic. Using the tip of a finger as one might a particularly delicate brush, Denny began drawing vague symbols in the blood on her skin, giving Karen the incredibly disturbing thought, that Denny was finger painting, just as Ross had done when he was a child, and as perhaps Denny had done herself.
"You still have Yvonne," Karen told her quietly, seeing that Denny's fear of no longer having this mother figure, was what had led her up here in the first place. "No, I don't," Denny said with far too much certainty. "She don't need me now, not now that she's got Lauren back for good. Lauren ain't like me, because she'll never come back here. Killing Fenner might have been the best thing she could ever have done for plenty of people, including you, but she ain't stupid enough to do anything like that again. Lauren learnt her lesson, was 'Successfully rehabilitated'," Denny added with utter scorn, clearly a phrase she'd heard uttered by what Sylvia would call some wishy washy liberal. Down on the ground, Nikki quirked a smile in John's direction, receiving the ghost of one in return. "So," Denny continued, oblivious of her audience. "Yvonne don't need to come back here any more now, does she." "Denny," Karen told her gently. "Yvonne isn't going to forget you, just because Lauren's been released. You mean far too much to her for that." "Yeah, right," Denny said disbelievingly, the tears now coursing down her cheeks, thinning the gradually coagulating blood on her arm. "She don't need me any more, that's obvious." "She came to see you, long before Lauren ended up in here, didn't she," Karen tried to reason with her. "Only because she was trying to get to know you a lot better," Denny replied disgustedly, trying to show that she wasn't falling for Karen's tactical manoeuvres. Karen laughed. "Denny, Yvonne could have got to know me just as well, without coming here to see you, I can promise you that. She cares about you, a great deal, and Yvonne doesn't give her affection easily. You know as well as I do that it has to be earned." They were quiet for a time, and Karen wondered just how she would go about persuading Denny to at least let her patch up her arm.
"Is it such a crime to want to be dead?" Denny eventually asked. "Is it really so bad, to want to not have to feel like this any more?" "Maybe for you, it doesn't seem such a bad thing," Karen said quietly, wishing she could have had the opportunity to say half these things to Ross. "But to those left behind, it's something they never forget. Denny, to lose someone you love in that way, it's something you never get over. No matter how much you try to push it to the back of your mind, so that living, and getting on with your life become bearable, it never entirely goes away." "Are you saying that because of Ross?" Denny asked, only just realising how much all this might be getting to Karen. "No," Karen told her simply. "Because I haven't got to that stage yet. What happened with Ross, is still the first thing that hits me when I wake up in a morning, and still the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. But I do know that that's what it's like for Yvonne. You know how she lost Ritchie, so you ought to know how it would affect her if she lost you. I know someone who lost his mother in a similar way. He might usually continue to function as a perfectly normal human being, but that doesn't prevent him from occasionally dwelling on all the unanswered questions." As John listened to her describing him, his slight gasp of surprise brought Nikki's eyes on him. So, Nikki thought in dawning realisation, the Judge was who Karen was now talking about. "That's what losing someone like that does to you, Denny. It leaves you with so many questions that will never be answered in a million years. That's why the person's memory can never quite be put to rest." "But Yvonne's got a daughter," Denny persisted, still unconsciously drawing vague impressions in her own blood. "Lauren's alive, she's out there, with Yvonne, when I'm stuck in here. Why would she need me, now that she's got Lauren back?" "Because continuing to care for the people who mean an awful lot to her, is one of the things Yvonne does best," Karen told her, knowing just how true this was. "She wouldn't ever forget you, no matter how many other children, real or otherwise she had." Seeing that Denny's resolve was finally broken, Karen swiftly removed a pair of gloves from their packet and put them on. Reaching forward, she gently tried to take the razor blade from Denny's fingers. "No!" Denny shouted, realising what Karen was doing. "Let go of it, Denny," Karen urged, the warning tone of intention all too clear. Trying to stop Karen from what she intended to do, Denny struggled to move closer to the edge of the roof. The feeling of brief anger that welled up in Karen, made her determined not to let Denny go through with her wish. Wrapping her arms round a furiously struggling Denny, Karen held onto her with all the strength she possessed. "Don't you dare," She said furiously, dragging Denny away from the edge. "I refuse to sit here and watch you throw away everything Yvonne has ever done for you, do you hear me. You are not going to do this to her, to Lauren, to anyone. Is that clear?" When Denny shouted, and began moving towards the edge of the roof, John held his breath, only distantly noticing that Grayling was there, and looked as though he'd been there for some time. They could all hear what Karen said, and every single one of them could tell that it came straight from the heart. When Denny eventually stopped struggling, and simply leaned against Karen, the sobs wracking her body, Nikki briefly touched John's arm. "It's all right," She said quietly. "You can start breathing again now."
Karen held Denny for quite a while, but then moved a little away from her, to begin assessing what damage Denny had done to herself. "Will you let me patch you up?" She asked, receiving a slight nod in return. As she cleaned away some of the blood, and covered the wounds with a sterile dressing, Karen could feel her own nerves singing with tension. Talking down a self-harming, suicidal, frightened young girl hadn't been something she'd thought she would end up doing today. Wrapping the bloody gloves in their empty packet, Karen noticed that her clothes hadn't escaped unspattered, probably due to the struggle. "You know what Zandra always said about being up here?" Denny said, eventually breaking the silence. "She said that it made her feel free. She felt like no one could touch her up here, that if she thought hard enough, she could just fly away." Karen could understand how someone might feel like this after being up here, because they would be able to see across all the prison buildings, over the razor wire to the world outside, a world beyond bolts, bars, and even worse, badly maintained ideals. "I'd like to take you down from here," Karen said, feeling that it was about time they left this far too seductive resting place. Picking up the bunch of keys that lay beside her, Denny held them out. "You might want these," She said, freely handing them to Karen. "They're Bodybag's." Hearing this undeniable assertion, Nikki turned a furious and threatening glare on Sylvia, who couldn't entirely meet her gaze. Getting very carefully to her feet, Karen held out a hand and slowly pulled Denny up to join her. Only then did Denny look down on their audience, seeing the Julies, and Tina, as well as Sylvia, Dominic, Gina, Nikki and Grayling. But the person who caught her eye, was John. "What's he doing here?" She asked without rancour, being simply curious. "He was with me when I got the call about this," Karen told her, as they made their way inside. "So he gave me a lift, and probably got far more than he bargained for." "I'm sorry, Miss," Denny said as they descended the stairs. "Just promise me one thing," Karen asked her. "Promise me never to do anything as stupid as that again. You won't always be in here, Denny, although I know it might sometimes feel that way. Yvonne will always be there for you, because if she makes a commitment to someone, she doesn't go back on it." As they walked through the corridors back to G wing, Karen wondered if, by bringing Denny down safely, she had finally managed to atone for figuratively putting Lauren behind bars. On the day Yvonne's daughter had been freed, Karen hoped that she had at last, been able to free herself from that particular question of guilt.