Author's note:
Welcome to the third chapter of Two Thousand and Ten - the tale of a year in the life of two friends from a seaside town in southern England. I would like to take this opportunity to point out that the following chapter is purely a work of fiction, my character names are chosen totally at random, and no resemblance to any person (living or dead), or any company/organisation, is intended and entirely coincidental. All characters are over 18 years of age. Please also remember that the author wishes to retain the right to use artistic licence whenever he wishes!
Hope you enjoy chapter three!
Two Thousand and Ten
Chapter Three - May and June
Saturday May 1st 2010 - 9:04am
Peter lay on his bed in his cell, unsure of why his life had gone so terribly wrong in the last few weeks. At the back of his mind were the horror stories one often hears about men being attacked or raped in prison - with sex offenders, somewhat ironically, being most at risk. So far he hadn't experienced any threat to his personal safety, but the fear of being attacked or sexually assaulted was his constant companion. He knew his nerves were in tatters - the constant noise of the prison environment only serving to add to the mental torture of incarceration. Prisons are, for those who have never been inside such institutions, pretty noisy places. Not only is there the constant sound of conversation, often of the shouting and swearing variety, there is also the noise of hard shoes walking on hard floors and echoing off hard walls and ceilings to contend with. And then of course there were the alarms, and the lockdowns, and the banging of cell doors, and the barked orders of the prison officers. Peter's nerves were hanging by a thread like the sword of Damocles, and he was unsure as to whether or not he had the mental reserves to endure much more.
Though he was by no means a religious man, he found his meetings with the prison chaplain to be one of his only sources of real comfort. That, and the occasional visit and phone call from Lindi. At her last visit the day before, she had told him of her efforts to track down the young woman who had accused him of raping her. There was still no news on that front but she, and Alison - the lesbian who was carrying Peter's child as part of his agreement to be a surrogate father - would not be giving up anytime soon.
He thanked her profusely for her efforts thus far but as each day passed he felt an increasing sense of resignation that she would never be found. At least not until she resurfaced at his trial, when the odds against him as the accused would be heavily stacked towards him being convicted and possibly spending the next twelve years at least, being held at Her Majesty's Pleasure. And then of course there would be the label that came attached with his alleged crime - he would most likely be a registered sex offender for life. And for what? For simply being rough with her during sex - something
she
had urged him to be.
His whole life had been fucked by the actions of one selfishly vindictive woman. He had considered taking his own life on several occasions since being imprisoned within the austere walls of HMP Nottingham, he felt he had reached a point where only his anger was keeping him going. Those dark thoughts only ever lasted a fleeting few seconds but, Peter reflected darkly, they seemed to be becoming disturbingly frequent.
Monday, May 3rd 2010 - 12:09pm
Lindi had made sure to vary her observation post so as not to attract too much attention. Today she was sitting under a tree about fifty yards or so from the entrance to the Nightingale Halls of Residence where Stevie Williams, Peter's accuser, was reported to reside. There had still been no sign of the young woman, or of
any
woman who closely resembled Peter's description of the woman he had sex with in his hotel room and who then subsequently accused him of raping her. Her efforts of tracking her down had thus far proved fruitless. But this weekend might be different.
For those unfamiliar with life in the United Kingdom, the first Monday in May is what's known as a Bank Holiday. More specifically, the May Day Bank Holiday. Bank Holidays were, as their name suggests, traditionally days when bank workers and those employed in other financial professions took a day off work. Since very few other businesses could function without access to the banking profession, they too took the day off also. Factories, mills, shops, offices and all but the most essential of public services, took the day off work and Bank Holidays became full Public Holidays. And it was because of this fact that today was a public holiday, that Lindi had reinforcements.
Not only had her new boyfriend Clive joined her, but both Alison and her partner Becky had come along too. And the four of them had decided upon a new tactic to intercept the girl. Lindi and Clive were masquerading as a couple sitting down under a tree whilst Alison and Becky, a short distance away but in a more prominent position, sat on a bench ready and waiting to tail the girl should she show up. The four of them remained in contact with each other via a cheap set of walkie-talkies that Lindi had purchased especially for this most concerted of efforts yet to track down and intercept the elusive Miss Williams.
The waiting continued...
Monday, May 3rd 2010 - 2:34pm
It may have been a public holiday in the outside world, but within the walls of Her Majesty's Prison Nottingham, the routine continued just as it did on any normal day. Today it was time for a part of the prison routine that Peter dreaded - shower time.
Every few days he and the rest of the inmates on his floor of the remand wing, had to file out to the ablutions building located a short distance from the remand centre itself where they were to use the communal showers and receive a freshly laundered set of clothes for the next few days of their incarceration. Peter was no stranger to communal showers - he took showers after PE lessons at school and at the gym he used to visit before his knee injury curtailed his exercise regimen. But those changing rooms had always had a sense of masculine camaraderie about them. It was an opportunity for men to be men with other men away from the gaze of women - a private space where men would sit and chat with each other following a satisfying workout and then repair to the showers for an invigorating deluge of hot water. Peter had no real problem with the social nudity aspect of communal showers, he was confident in his own body despite his lack of success with women, but the communal showers of the prison held an air of menace about them. The old
'don't drop the soap'
phenomenon.
Peter and his group of inmates dutifully stripped naked and padded from the changing area along a short corridor to the showers. Standing under the deluge of water was both a soothing and at the same time unnerving thing. One of the inmates that he had been warned about, a tattooed mountain of a man known only to him as Jenks, was apparently renowned for taking advantage of other inmates for his own sexual gratification. Or so Peter had been led to believe by some of his fellow inmates.
Thus far Peter had avoided showering next to the man, although he had noticed him winking at him on several occasions from the other side of the room. Today though, Peter's luck ran out and he found himself being approached by Jenks as he came and stood under the showerhead next to the one Peter was using.
"Always nice to see a new cutie on the wing!" Jenks said menacingly, "You know I'd just love to get to know that nice arse of yours a little better."
Peter decided to ignore the man - a tactic that could either work or backfire spectacularly.
"The strong silent type are we?" Jenks remarked after a few moments of Peter's silence.
"Leave 'im alone Jenks, yer filthy fucker!" Another of Peter's fellow inmates interjected - a petty criminal called Jackson who had spent half his adult life behind bars in a succession of different prisons.
"The fuck's your problem??" Jenks retorted aggressively.
The two men then engaged in an angry exchange, which threatened to turn violent. Peter used the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat - it had been the closest call yet. He resolved to thank Jackson for stepping in - he decided to use some of his money to buy the man some cigarettes, the unofficial currency inside, by way of thanks.
Monday, May 3rd 2010 - 5:43pm
In an attempt to arouse less suspicion, Lindi and Clive had swapped positions with Alison and Becky - a tactic that meant abandoning their posts for a few moments, but it was imperative not to arouse the suspicion of the campus security. They had been lucky so far, but there was a real feeling that their luck might run out at any moment.
"Alison calling Lindi - can you hear me? Over." Alison's voice crackled over the cheap walkie-talkie.
"Go ahead Alison." Lindi replied over the airwaves.
"Eyeball! We have eyeball! Target sighted, over."
