Day Eleven: Showers
The next morning passed without incident, though at slopping-out we heard some sort of fracas, out of sight round a corner of the corridor. Our shaves passed Raymond's inspection, and breakfast and lunch came and went without further announcements or hostility. As Showers approached I grew nervous and excited, all the suppressed sexual tension building up inside me, such that I couldn't relax or concentrate or keep still.
"Whatever you do keep hold of your shampoo," said Rose. "If you put it down it will disappear before you can say 'porridge'."
"Right,"
"Do you want me to take it for you?" asked Rose.
"Yes," I said. "I mean no – or course not, no."
"It would be safer if I did," said Rose.
"All right then," I said.
By the time the call came I was so fixated on one thing that Rose had to remind me to leave my clothes outside our cell.
Two by two we marched along the corridor where I kept a keen eye on the names on the cell doors we passed. There was no P Kumali: presumably her cell was in the other direction, and I would be able to identify it next time we went to Exercise.
The shower room was warm and steamy: Rose and I drifted away from each other, and soon I was absorbed into the steamy, noisy morass of female flesh. A large black girl with stretch marks on her belly saw me and threw her arms around me.
"We heard about Wilson and the laxative," she said. "We laughed 'til we wet ourselves."
Two of her friends joined in the laughter. The first girl said:
"How's about a rub honey?"
"Maybe later," I said. "I've got to find someone."
"You know where to find me," the black girl said. "I got some real chocolate back in my cell – you rub me nice I might just give you a piece."
"Thanks," I said, and made off: but I'd only gone a couple of paces before a woman with a huge belly blocked my path. She had dark hair cut in a crude, pudding-bowl slant, and spots on her chin.
"How about a rub for me?" she said.
"Maybe later," I said – "I've got to find someone."
She gave me a rather hard look; for a moment I thought she was going to bar my way, but she stepped aside:
"You'd better start coming across pretty soon," she said. "Otherwise we're going to get the idea you think you're too good for us."
Hardiman was bawling out numbers, and women were standing under the showers. I realised that, not knowing Prana's cell number, I did not know when she would be called to shower. I ducked under outstretched arms, saw Rose locked in an embrace with a woman I did not recognise, and then I spotted the slender back, the small, shapely buttocks and long dark hair. Prana was standing facing a wall: I took a step towards her then checked myself: backed up to the wall was a pear-shaped woman of maybe fifty: her face was creased into what looked at first glance like pain, and Prana's hand was between her legs. I backed away, but couldn't help watching: as the woman came she grunted repeatedly, as though she was having a bowel movement. They locked arms, and as I waited for them to separate a voice that seemed familiar spoke huskily into my ear.
"Here she is again, lovelier than ever," said the voice.
"I've been dreaming about you every night," said a second voice, into my opposite ear.
"And here she is in the flesh," said the first voice.
"And what flesh it is," said the second.
I was aware of hands running down my flanks. I turned round and recognised the two butch women who had joked with myself and the freckled girl about piss and champagne last time in Showers. They were so similar I wondered if they were sisters: both had fair hair cut short at the sides and long on top, the long hair combed over one side from a side parting. They looked as though they should be smoking cigarettes from long black holders.
"She smells a lot nicer this time," said the first, who was slightly bulkier than the second, as she buried her nose into my neck.
"I've got to speak to someone," I said.
"What's the rush?" asked the second woman.
"Plenty of time," said the first. "Time for us to get to know you a little better. Chloe: that's right?"
"Yes," I said.
"Well I'm Brenda and this is Freda," said the larger woman: "though most of the girls know us as the Andrews Sisters."
"Are you really sisters?" I asked. For some reason this caused them to roar with laughter.
"We're all sisters in here," the smaller one said.
"Now Chloe," said Brenda: "Freda and I drew lots this morning, and I won: so I get to go first: you understand me?"
I could hardly fail to. I realised, also, that this was something I could no longer put off without causing offence and losing whatever goodwill my status as new girl, and the stunt with Wilson, had endowed me with.
"Two squares of chocolate each," I said. They roared with laughter.
"Chloe dear, if only we could: but sadly we have no chocolate."
"Those kind Wardens forgot to deliver any this week."
This stumped me: what was I supposed to do now? Capitulate? Refuse to oblige them?
"In that case a bottle of shampoo," I said.
"Hark at her," said Freda. "My, does she drive a hard bargain."
The two women looked at each other. Then Brenda said:
"We'll give you an emery board."
This again caught me unawares. Oddly enough I had been thinking about my nails, wondering if there was any alternative to chewing them down or letting them grow into talons. An emery board sounded quite appealing. But I had no idea of its trading value.
"One each," I said.
"One between us Chloe," said Brenda firmly.
