'I'll get you another set tomorrow. Good night, then.'
Lloyd-Davies locked the door and Lee sat down. Macdonald took the sandwich out of the paper bag. He held it up. 'You want half ?'
Lee shook his head.
Macdonald took a bite. The bacon was cold but he was ravenous. 'She seems okay,' he said.
'Lloyd-Davies? Yeah, she's fair.'
'Didn't realise they had women in men's prisons.'
'Equality, innit? Most of them are pig-ugly dykes, though.'
'Not her. She's a looker.' Macdonald took another bite of his sandwich. He gestured at the light. 'When does that go off ?'
Lee laughed. 'You haven't been inside before, have you? There's no lights-out any more.' He pointed to a switch by the cell door. 'You turn it off yourself. They don't even tell us to turn off the TV, so long as we don't make too much noise. Not that there's much on after midnight. When are you back in court?'
'I'm not sure.'
'No way you'll get bail if you don't tell them your name.'
'Doubt I'll get bail anyway,' said Macdonald.
'Bastards,' said Lee.
'Yeah,' agreed Macdonald.
Macdonald woke to the sound of Lee crunching cornflakes. He was sitting at the metal table by the window, reading a paperback book propped up against the wall. Down the landing, Macdonald could hear rap music.
'Rise and shine,' said Lee, through a mouthful of cereal.
'What time is it?'
'Seven thirty.'
'When do they let us out?'
'Assuming they're not short-staffed, we can use the showers some time between eight and eight thirty. That's if you've booked it with an officer. You've got to run to get there first, though.'
Macdonald sat up. His neck ached from the wafer-thin pillow. He rubbed his face with his hands and felt the stubble on his chin and cheeks. 'What happens then?'
'Labour. That's what they call work in here. Dinner at twelve. More labour. Tea at five. Association, gym and stuff at six. Back in the cells at eight. That's the routine during the week. Varies at weekends. Proper breakfast, for a start.'
There was a rattle of a key chain outside the cell. Lee pulled a face and continued to eat his cornflakes.
First Macdonald caught a glimpse of a male prison officer, then a big man in a blue sweatshirt and baggy linen trousers appeared, a plastic bag in one hand. He was in his fifties with receding hair that he'd grown long and tied back in a ponytail. 'All right if I come in, lads?' he asked.
'Aye,' said Lee. 'You're here to see the new boy, yeah?'
The man stuck out his hand for Macdonald to shake. 'Ed Harris, I'm one of the wing's Listeners.'
Macdonald took the hand. Harris had a strong grip and he looked into Macdonald's eyes with a measured gaze. Macdonald knew he was being assessed. Harris handed him the carrier-bag. 'They said you needed a wash pack,' he said. 'Courtesy of the management.'
Macdonald looked inside it. There was a yellow Bic razor, a bar of shaving soap, a shaving brush, a toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. 'Thanks,' he said. 'I could do with a towel.'
'I'll get you one,' promised Harris. He gestured at Macdonald's forensic suit. 'Is that all the clothes you've got?'
'Lloyd-Davies said she'd get me something else today.'
'I'll remind her,' said Harris. He leaned against the wall by the door and folded his arms across his chest. 'Did they tell you about the Listeners?'
'Like the Samaritans, they said.'
Harris nodded. 'We're trained by them, but we're not just for people who want to top themselves. We're here if you need someone to talk to. There's four of us on the wing, and you can always find us because we've got orange cards on our cell doors. You need to talk to us any time, day or night, just ask one of the officers.' He gave Macdonald a sheet of paper on which were printed several paragraphs under the heading
'Thanks,' said Macdonald, though he doubted that he'd ever want to confide his innermost thoughts to a balding man with a ponytail.
'I'm told you're not saying who you are.'
Macdonald didn't respond.
'I know you're angry at being here,' said Harris. 'No one comes into a place like this of their own volition. But there's no point in fighting the system.'
'I'm not fighting anyone, Ed.'
'Call it passive resistance, then. Call it what you want. But you're here and you have to accept that. This place runs on co-operation. If you co-operate, your time in here goes smoothly. If you make waves, you're the one who'll get wet.'
'I've already had the pep talk from the screws.'
'Armed robbery, right?'
Macdonald shrugged carelessly.
'You could get twelve,' said Harris. 'Play by their rules and you could be out in six. Play by yours and you'll do the full twelve. Is it worth an extra six years inside to prove a point?'
'What happened to innocent until proved guilty?' asked Macdonald. 'I'm on remand.'
'The prison is full of innocent men,' said Harris. 'Nine times out of ten the guys I speak to swear on their mothers' graves that they've been fitted up.'
'Some of us were,' said Lee.
'Jason, you were caught with a knife in your hands and a Pakistani shopkeeper bleeding at your feet.'
'I was provoked,' said Lee.
Harris raised an eyebrow incredulously, then turned his attention back to Macdonald. 'The point I'm making is that we all choose our own paths in here. Guilty or innocent, you're inside until the system has finished with you. All I'm saying is that you have to think about what you're doing.'
'I know what I'm doing, Ed.'
Harris pushed himself off the wall. 'I'll drop by again in a couple of days, see how you're settling in. Has Jason here explained the whys and wherefores?'
'Pretty much.'
'You couldn't have a better guide. He's been a guest at half a dozen establishments like this. Take it easy, yeah?'
Harris left, and the prison officer locked the door.
'What's his story?' asked Macdonald.
Lee finished his cornflakes and washed his plastic bowl in the small stainless-steel sink by the toilet. 'Murder, suspicion of,' he said. 'His trial's in a couple of months. Topped his missus.'
'And he's offering advice to me?'
'He's a thief. A good one. Did a three-stretch in the Scrubs and when he came out his wife said she was gonna leave him and take the kids. He snapped. Picked up a bread-knife and damn near severed her head. Provocation, if you ask me. I mean, wives are supposed to stand by their men, right?'
Macdonald lay down on his bunk. 'That's what they say, Jason.' He sighed. He read the information sheet that Harris had given him. ''You can talk to a Listener about anything in complete confidence, just as you would a Samaritan,'' he read aloud. ''Everything you say is treated with confidentiality.'' He looked over at Lee. 'Is that right?'
'Supposed to be,' said Lee.
Macdonald stared up at the ceiling. There was only one person he could trust, and that was himself. Everyone else was a potential threat, and that included his cellmate.
