‘You don’t mind then? I’m sorry to put you out at all; I’ll try not to get in your way.’
‘In my way how?’ she asked. Then she realised that her new cellmate was sitting uncomfortably with her knees drawn up and appeared to be trying not to meet her gaze. ‘Look, there’s no reason for you to be apprehensive. I’m sure we’ll get along fine.’
‘You’re alright then with me being in here with you? It’s just that…’ her voice faded away.
‘You mean I’m inside for murder and I have a reputation? Well I heard that you beat your partner over the head with a steam iron. Maybe if you’d had a gun instead of an iron you’d be in for murder too.’
‘Well he had it coming to him, didn’t he?’
‘So I understand. Anyway, here we both are so we’ll do our best to get along.’ She smiled. ‘Is that ok by you.’
‘It’s great by me.’
Gerry found that she and Angela got along fine. Although not well educated she was bright and she had held a responsible job as a petrol station manager until her partner’s inclination to abuse her had reached a dangerous level. Gerry thought that if she had been able to afford a really good lawyer, Angela would have avoided a custodial sentence altogether, but her boyfriend had suffered a fractured skull and had lain in a coma for two months.
One night Gerry woke up and heard Angela moaning in the bunk above her. It was not the first time but she had decided that she would say something. ‘Can you learn to do that more quietly, do you think?’
Instantly there was complete stillness from her cellmate. The next morning it was plain that Angela was highly embarrassed.
‘Sorry, but I had to say something,’ Gerry apologised.
‘I suppose you work it all off with exercise, you never do it.’
‘I’ve been in here for four years, and no amount of exercise is enough,’ Gerry replied. ‘I’m just, well, quiet.’
Three months later Angela heard Gerry weeping softly in the middle of the night and amazed that her tough cellmate would ever display such emotion she climbed down and asked her what was wrong.
‘It’s my daughter’s fifth birthday today,’ Gerry said.
‘Do you want to talk about it at all?’
‘Maybe I do. Sit down on the edge there, so I can talk quietly.’ Gerry described in vague terms how she had become pregnant, how her partner had died and how she had given birth in prison and given up her baby for adoption.
‘No wonder you’re so sad,’ Angela said. On a sudden impulse she lay down beside her on the narrow bunk and gave her a hug. Her arms lingered around her and Gerry felt an unaccountable urge. She reached up and cupped Angela’s breast. She felt her tense up but then she relaxed again. After a few seconds Angela asked ‘why are you doing that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Gerry replied. ‘Why aren’t you stopping me?’
‘I don’t know either,’ Angela replied. Gerry rolled over to face her. They stared at each other for a moment and then began to kiss. Angela felt Gerry’s hands on her bottom pulling them closer together.
‘We’re still not gay are we?’ Angela asked after a minute.
No, just sex starved.’ Then she giggled quietly when she felt a hand slide under her shirt.
‘Do you think we should stop?’ Angela asked quietly.
‘No I don’t,’ she whispered back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
As darkness fell she folded the canopy around her. ‘I’m like a Cornish pasty,’ she muttered, ‘or a pizza calzone. She lay back underneath the canopy and stared up at the sky and tried to go to sleep, but her lack of physical activity and anxiety stopped her from feeling tired. ‘Maybe I’ll count sheep,’ she announced quietly. Nobody answered.
‘I said maybe I’ll count sheep!’ she shouted.
‘There you go Gerry, nobody gives a shit,’ she said.
White lights flashing high overhead caught her eye. ‘Oh look there’s another aeroplane,’ she announced. ‘I hope you’re enjoying the flight madam. What would you like to drink? Diet Coke? Gin and tonic? Red wine? A nice big glass of cool water then? Sparkling or still? Sparkling perhaps, with ice and lemon. Something for dinner? Fillet steak? Seared Sea Bass? Chicken Jalfrezi? Caprese salad followed by Saltimbocca Romana? Double bacon cheese burger and fries? No nothing for me thank you, I’m not hungry. Though maybe you could give me a couple of paracetamol for my headache and then I think I’ll just stare at the stars and wait to die if that’s alright.’
She saw what appeared to be a star moving slowly overhead. ‘A moving star? That’s unusual,’ she muttered. ‘Must be a satellite, or maybe the international space station.’ She wondered what life was like in orbit. Definitely not as boring as floating in a raft. Probably more interesting than being in prison. Higher self-esteem, certainly; less personal danger, probably. She fell asleep.
Dawn the next morning proved to be a slow progression from a delicate white glow to the east followed by a steady brightening of the sky from starlit black through to dull blue until the sun hauled itself relentlessly clear of the horizon to shine with increasing strength. Gerry gazed all round at the cloudless sky and wearily put the canopy back up. She picked up the bottle and swigged back the brackish water. ‘That doesn’t taste as bad as I thought. Maybe that means it will do me some good.’
Rather to her surprise she needed to pee a little and decided to add it to the water that swirled round the edge of the raft. A sudden stinging sensation made her flinch and she examined herself. ‘That’s great; a urinary tract infection or something. Just to make my last days more interesting. Thank you God. That’s alright Miss Tate, take these antibiotics and drink plenty of water.’
She gave a little giggle. ‘Don’t forget; drink plenty of water. Yes doctor. Don’t forget… drink plenty of water. Don’t forget Miss Tate… drink plenty of water.’
‘Plenty of water.’
‘Plenty of water.’
‘Plenty… of… water.’
‘Plen… … teeee.’
‘I’m cold.’ She shivered. ‘Why am I so cold? The sun’s gone down. No it hasn’t. It’s just turned cloudy. Over there, that grey mist beneath the cloud looks like rain. Shit!’
Summoning up her last reserves of energy Gerry hauled down the canopy and set it back up with the underside on top and formed into a funnel as she had practised. She had her bottles ready and her sweater and blouse laid out in case the funnel effect didn’t work. She sat there shivering hoping and hoping as the rain came towards her. At one time she thought it was going to pass her by but suddenly she was caught in a deluge. She filled up a water bottle and tried some. Yuk! Salt and chemicals. She filled it again; tried it and swore her foulest oaths at the taste. A third time and this time she drank and drank until there were two litres of water sloshing about in her belly. She began to drink some more but there was a warning twinge of pain deep inside her. She filled up the two water bottles and carefully stoppered them and then she lay back and let the rain wash over her laughing a little and occasionally mumbling ‘plenty of water.’ Then she doubled up in pain as her digestive system tried to cope with the sudden flood of liquid after days of deprivation, alternately hugging up her knees and then arching her back as she tried to alleviate the spasms.
Gerry groaned in exhaustion as she wrapped the canopy around herself. By the light of the moon her watch told her that the time was somewhere close to midnight. Her stomach had settled down and although she was no longer suffering from a raging thirst, she was miserably scared and lonely. She had spent many days in solitary confinement in prison for her multitude of misdemeanours, but the guards had always been close by and had provided some human contact. Back then she had defiantly decided that solitary confinement was easily endured, but now she realised the true meaning of solitude she realised how hard it was to bear. She tried to replay movies in her mind as a way to alleviate the tedium and occasionally sunk into bouts of fitful sleep as her memories took her off into dreams. The night slowly dragged on towards dawn and another day on the life raft began.