Standing in line and as close to Fiona as she could get, Lexi held a hand over her mouth as large groups of people swarmed past, all eager to get to the front of the queue. With them came the distinct odour of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. Most were dressed up, with their hair perfectly styled, fingernails long and painted and stilettos so high they could have easily passed for stilts. Each one carried a mobile phone, busily swiped at screens and continually tapped out messages while moving forward. Occasionally, they’d look up, glared in her direction, allowed their stare to bore its way through her. It was as though they were judging her, just like she was judging them. They were keeping tabs on her every move, which made her more nervous and, anxiously, she too pulled out her mobile and, just for something to do, she mimicked them, began to flick from screen to screen.
‘You a newbie, then?’ the woman asked as she sidled past, chomping at her gum but giving a genuine look of concern. ‘Just stay in the queue, do what they ask. Doesn’t normally take too long.’ She paused, looked Lexi up and down. ‘Your fella just been banged up, then?’
Swallowing, Lexi looked everywhere but at the woman. ‘No… I’m… I’m here to see my dad.’
‘Oh bless, been a naughty boy, has he?’ Pulling a lipstick from her bag, the woman used her phone as a mirror, applied the bright red colour. ‘And this is your first visit, is it?’
Nodding, Lexi nervously looked over her shoulder, hoped Fiona would step in but she too had her phone to her ear, a last-minute call before going inside. ‘Yes, sir. No problem, well, we’re here now and hopefully I’ll have something to give you within the hour.’ She paused, rolled her eyes at the never-ending queue. ‘Anything else I should know before I go in?’ she asked as the queue surged forward. A guard pointed to the mobile, shook his head. ‘Yes, sir, we’re going in now. I have to go.’
Keeping to the left, Lexi could feel her heart speed up. The rhythm was now palpable, her movements slow, measured, and she knew that by the way she was acting, it was more than obvious to everyone else in the room that she hadn’t been to the prison before, that she didn’t know the rules. Sheepishly, she nodded persistently when asked a question, agreed to everything the guards asked for, stood patiently in line. Which was more than could be said for the other visitors, who crowded around, threw comments back and forth and jeered at the guards.
‘Is it always like this?’ she whispered to Fiona, who rolled her jaw in annoyance as she kept her eyes on all the people around them.
‘Yeah, some days it isn’t so bad, but today they look as though they’re out for trouble. Just stay behind me; we’ll be through it all soon.’ She inched forward to where a set of lockers stood, opened one of the doors. ‘Put your bag and your phone etcetera in here. You can’t take anything in with you.’
Lexi thought of the letters she’d written to her mother, the ones still tucked into the depths of her bag, and for a few seconds she wondered why she’d never written to her father, why it had never occurred to her to write to him, to ask him why. And as the locker door slammed to a close and the key was turned, she suddenly felt the need to get the letters back, to show him what she’d written, how hurt she’d been. But instead, she twisted her fingers tightly together, until they formed fists that were ready to fight, fists she could defend herself with. Even though right now, she wasn’t sure whom she wanted to defend herself against: the other visitors, the other inmates, or her dad?
Shocked by her thoughts, she wondered why she feared her father. He’d always been good to her, gentle and kind, and deep down, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her now. Which was why it was so difficult to believe that he’d actually killed any of those women, that by his own hand and without a care in the world, he’d murdered them all in cold blood and then, to degrade them even further, he’d left them in the open, whatever the weather and, of all things, he’d placed a chess piece in the folds of the scarf, his way of categorising the kill in order of importance.
As the crowd began to disperse, Lexi carefully watched a guard. He stood with a clipboard, an earpiece and periodically he’d shout a name from the list, point to a door.
‘Alexandra Graves.’ As her name was bellowed across the room, other visitors went silent. All turned to look at her and, with an internal trembling that wouldn’t stop, she held on to Fiona’s arm, felt herself being led across the room until she stood before a large electric door. ‘As the door opens, you move forward. OK?’ the guard growled and once again Lexi felt herself nod as a loud bleep blasted out and the security door opened.
Feeling her body stiffen, she stepped forward, heard the door immediately close behind them. Biting down on her lower lip, she could taste blood. It seeped into her mouth and quickly she dug into her pocket for a tissue that wasn’t there. With no choice but to patiently wait, Lexi wiped her mouth on the cuff of her jumper, saw the deep red stain and, while moving forward, deeper and deeper into the prison, she hurriedly curled the cuff over, hoped she’d hidden the mark, and glanced up to find herself standing in a room, probably four or five foot square, with a sealed vinyl floor, white uninviting walls and two well-worn royal-blue polypropylene chairs.
Feeling slightly claustrophobic, Lexi stared at the door on the other side of the screen and, with one hand, she tentatively pressed her fingers against the glass division, pushed once, twice, checked how sturdy it felt to her touch, then carefully she checked the grille, tried to work out how easily it could be spoken through, without being breached. Then, with her gaze fixed on the chair at the other side of the screen, it suddenly occurred to her that that chair was where her father would sit. That as soon as the door opened on the other side, he’d be in that room, looking back at her.
‘I can’t do it.’ She jumped backwards. ‘I don’t want to. I can’t.’ She glared at Fiona, then lifted a hand to knock on the door as she grabbed at breath, felt her breathing accelerate faster than she’d ever known before. Closing her eyes, she thought about Isla. Thought about the threat to both their lives, knew she couldn’t let her daughter down.
‘Alexandra…’ She heard the unmistakable albeit shaky tone of her father’s voice. ‘Is… is it really you? Did you really come?’ Turning as slowly as she possibly could, she held her breath, could feel the involuntary shaking inside her body and, through squinted eyes, she looked him up and down, barely recognised the gaunt, brittle-looking man he’d become. ‘Please…’ He pointed to the chair with a long, spindly finger. ‘Why don’t you take a seat, we…’ He looked as though he were struggling to breathe and Lexi noticed how tightly his fingers held on to the chair, how unsteady he looked on his feet, and she wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand at all, if he were to suddenly let go. ‘Please…’ He gave her a crooked, uncertain smile. ‘We have some catching up to do.’