Prison

Prison.
I guess it's not supposed to be a pleasant place, not one you want to return to, like a holiday place...or is it?

Had a phone call from a socialwork proffessional, big V was missing, had we seen her?
We hadn't seen her since the last time she'd been in the doggiedoo and had needed to run away.
She had of course phoned to tell us she was being evicted, but that had been two months previously. and we had had her back home thirteen months earlier.
She had stayed for only as long as the heat was on...as soon as things had calmed down, and other people had moved on to hit on other silly, vulnerable, not so bright kids, she had calmly said thanks, she loved seeing us, indeed she loved all of us but she had to face her demons. She was gone.

Gone, probably not far enough, but certainly not forgotten.

Two weeks went by and then another phonecall, she was still missing, but big L, the druggie dope dealer, who was particularly good with his fists, was lookin after little LJ well.

Another two weeks went by and lo she had been found by the law.
Well, aprehended, drunk as a skunk, wielding a meat cleaver and threatening to kill big L, who luckily for him was at least fifty miles away.
This seemed to me to be a perfectly logical decision, one i probably would have entertained the last time he beat her up.
Sober, i think she might have stood a better chance of finding him.
Verbosity and the law are not always a good idea either.....she had obviously not heard of staying quiet until her mouth piece appeared!

She was bailed.......

One week later and the law are once again called to see to big V. This time passers by had been worried for her.
The law found her in a shop doorway with a rather large carving knife. She threw it away , learning at last, curled herself up in a foetal ball and was quiet.....well until they got her in the nick and then motormouth poured forth her venom.

Another phonecall from a professional.
Would we be willing for her to be bailed to us?

We were soon on our way to visit her in prison. She had been denied bail, and her case was to be heard in crown court at the end of the month.

Prison. I guess it's not supposed to be a pleasant place......

A modern building, large and airy. No bars for these windows. A tall, sturdy fence, coils of barbed wire on top.
A smart, no nonsense warder behind a reinforced, locked gate, looked at her watch, and we waited in anxious anticipation.
Smack on two o'clock we were let in only after we had shown our I.D. and visiting order. I thought of border controls and the germans in the second world war.
We walked past the flower beds and deposited our worlds into a cream locker, retaining only loose change to purchase coffee or chocolates.
We went and stood at the next gate, making small talk with the warder, who told us he wasn't allowed to talk about prisons. Looking up at the fence and the coils of razor wire, we waited and were then let through, across a courtyard to a building.
Another warder and forms to fill in, before a waiting room, cameras and young briefs with files, pen tapping.
People, ordinary people. People who could have been transported from the highstreet, queing for veg, or waiting for a stamp at the post office, now waited, to put their coins in a paperbag.
Arms and legs outstretched frisked for contraband and forbiddens they waited quietly.

We were let in, wardens on a raised dias and others watching captured images on screens behind screens.
Coffee tables and chairs, and at each one an orange tabarded woman sat.
She looked happily around for us, waved over we hugged her and sat.
We talked and listened to what had happened to her, and listened to what had not been said....and were sad.
It struck me as we were leaving, she was secure. She knew what would happen next, life ordered and predictable. Few responsibilities, structure and safety.....bit like a holiday from a chaotic lifestyle.