Paula parked the car and walked up to the entrance of HMP Doniston. She mingled with the other visitors then, when her name was called, presented her VO, gritted her teeth through the humiliating procedures and finally followed the flow into the dispiriting visiting room. Serried rows of tables, uncomfortable chairs facing each other. It looked like speed-dating for the dysfunctional.
She could have used the fact of her job to make a police visit. But that would have been a flashing light in the system that a routine visit was not. So she endured the waiting and the humiliation for half an hour with one of her best friends.
Tony was third through the door, his face lighting up at the sight of her. He dropped into his chair and grinned. ‘It’s great to see you.’ His face looked puffy and pale, but that was the only real change in his appearance. His body remained wiry and lean, his eyes as sharp and lively as ever. He sniffed noisily. ‘You use Evian skin cream, and sometimes you wear L’Air du Temps . . . but not today.’
She snorted with laughter, recognising the quote. ‘And how are you doing, Dr Lecter?’
‘I think I’m slowly getting the hang of this place. How to keep busy, how to stay out of trouble. How to be useful.’ His smile was tinged with sadness. ‘I’ve always liked to be useful.’
‘Still teaching them how to meditate?’
He smiled ‘It’s a better way of helping people stay calm than the sea of drugs that washes up in here.’
‘No blowback from twats who think you’re taking the piss?’
He shook his head. ‘They probably think I’m too insignificant to bother with. I’m no threat to their little fiefdoms and smacking me around would just give me credibility. The other thing I’m trying to get off the ground is basic literacy classes. I’m dressing it up as a way to be a better dad. Learn to read to your kids, give them the childhood you never had.’ His hands were moving constantly, fingers fidgeting, touching the table, touching his thighs. There was a nervous energy to him that was unfamiliar to her.
‘That’s an interesting approach. How are you going to manage that? I don’t imagine you’ve got many kids’ books in the prison library.’
Tony tapped the side of his nose. ‘I called my publisher, who is very happy with me because I’m writing the book they contracted years ago. I told him we needed a big box of children’s books ASAP, and he’s promised to sort it out.’
‘Result. And how is the book going?’
‘Well, I’ve got no excuse not to be writing, have I? Five hundred words a day – I should have the first draft by the end of the year. The only problem is not having access to my notes or to the internet. I’m having to rely on memory, so there’ll be a lot of fact-checking and filling in the blanks afterwards.’
‘Is there anything we can send you? Books, or copies of your notes? Torin’s down at Steeler two or three times a week, he likes the peace and quiet down there. It’d be easy enough for him to dig out what you need.’
Tony smiled. ‘You’re such a good friend, Paula. I’m not asking any more of you guys than you’re already doing for me. How is Torin? And Elinor?’
She gave him a quick update, then added, ‘We had dinner with Carol last night.’
The fidgeting stopped. ‘How is she?’
‘She told Elinor she’s seeing someone about her PTSD. An alternative therapy, apparently. I don’t really understand it, but it’s all about bodywork?’
He closed his eyes momentarily, then gave a pained smile. ‘I’ve heard about it. With a degree of scepticism, I have to admit. But if it’s helping her . . . that’s the best news I’ve had in a while.’
‘She seems less wound up, that’s for sure. She’s not drinking. And she’s doing some investigative work.’
He looked suddenly wary. ‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s a group of professionals who have got together to form a sort of Innocence Project. They call it After Proven Guilty. They work on it in their own time, they take on cases where they think there’s been a miscarriage of justice and they reinvestigate. It’s Bronwen Scott’s baby, so that should give you a flavour of how seriously it’s being run. Anyway, Bronwen showed up at the barn and pitched Carol. She’s a bit tentative about it but I think she’s definitely hooked. And that can only be a good thing, right? Using the skills she’s got?’
Tony ruminated for a moment. ‘Probably. What happened to the carpentry thing? Is she still doing that?’
Paula spread her hands. ‘As far as I know. She was the last time I was out there. She learned so many new things when she was gutting the barn and rebuilding it, I think she’s really come to enjoy working with her hands. But it’s good for her to be using her head too, I reckon.’
‘And that’s the only investigative work she’s doing?’
It was, she thought, an odd question. ‘It’s all she told us about. Unless you know different?’ And how would he, given he hadn’t been in touch with Carol since he’d begun his prison sentence. Unless . . . ?
‘I know nothing,’ he said, channelling Manuel from Fawlty Towers. ‘I just wondered if she’d got the taste for it again. But what about you? What are you working on?’
And so she
