New mystic(2)

Ruth was being held on remand in Wolverton’s women’s prison just South of Manchester. It was a sad, miserable and dejected place to visit. Paul went to see
her having first obtained a visiting order. He had to take his passport with him to prove who he was, since his name had already been submitted a week in advance of his visit. He was searched and had to empty his pockets of everything including his hanky(!) which were put into a locker. He had his hand stamped with indelible ink and was given a numbered orange wrist band to wear. He was told that hugs and kisses on the cheeks were allowed but not on the lips. When he finally reached the visiting room he was struck by how working class the women prisoners were, apart from Ruth. Actually the prisoners were not working class they were probably long term unemployed or would be outside of prison. Some were persistent shop lifters, a few were or had been on heroin, and a few were inside for acts of violence including murder. All were white apart from one young South-Asian woman. Most were under 40.

Ruth looked dreadful, had lost a lot of weight and there were marks beneath her yes showing how badly she was sleeping. Her hair usually so well presented looked lank and in need of treatment. Her prison clothing did not suit her or fit her that well. But it was not just her physical looks, she was not her usual bubbly self, her voice was quiet and he was dejected and probably clinically depressed.
- You don’t belong here!
- That’s what several prisoners and prison staff have said to me.
- Oh Ruth what are we going to do?
- Get me out of here! (said with some of the old Ruth spark!)
- OK tell me again about the cake.
- It was in an ordinary cake box with a label attached. It said, ‘A sweet cake for a sweetheart (Yeuch!) from a secret admirer’ And it was chocolate and I hate chocolate!
- Me too!
- Oh Paul, I killed them! (Ruth began to sob.)
- No you didn’t! Your secret admirer killed them! In fact he meant to kill you!
- Oh Paul! .... I could have killed you!
- Not you the cake!
- Whaaat?
- Nothing… Did you give the box and the label to the police?
- No, I threw it away. I just thought the cake would be nice to offer to my pupils and that someone would own up to having baked it.
- Home made then?
- Yes for sure.
- Any left. One slice that the police took away.
- They wont be able to prove you did it.
- Maybe not, but they wont let me out until they are sure that I am safe.
- That’s ridiculous.
- So my solicitor says…but all the publicity in the local rag has made it hard. (Ruth sighed and looked about to break down again.)
- Chin up. (Where did that phrase come from? It produced a weak smile from Ruth.)

Paul was glad to be let out of the prison. He cycled back home with his thoughts on Ruth and her predicament. The trouble was he cared a lot about her and this could get in the way of the kind of cool thinking he knew was necessary. It was time for a long bikeabout maybe with his Australian friend.