Nelly puts on Santa’s hat and shouts, ‘Santa lives!’
‘This is a disaster,’ I say.
‘But her handwriting is impressively neat,’ says Sophie kindly.
Chapter44Feet
Sunday, 15 December
‘I’ve been thinking more about the killings,’ says Cait, her voice amplified by the empty concrete corridor where the payphone is bolted to the wall.
‘Please, do go ahead,’ I say, popping a piece of mango in my mouth. ‘I’m getting my feet done.’
‘You’re in public?’
‘No, no. Ying’s come to me,’ I say and smile at Ying, who’s preparing my pedicure. It’s a treat because I’m too upset about Hampstead.
‘I think that’s her surname, Lalla. Her name’s Fen.’
‘She told me it was Ying Fen.’
‘In China, they give the surname first.’
‘Well, that’s confusing.’
‘Not really, just different.’
‘Hold on,’ I say and ask Ying Fen if her first name is actually Fen. ‘Right, well, Fen agrees with you, but she can’t talk. She’s concentrating on my feet, so do go on.’
‘She might hear something.’
‘She doesn’t seem to understand a word I say about nails, soI doubt she’ll pick up the finer points of our judiciary system. Don’t they record your calls anyway?’
‘Yes, but they don’t listen to them,’ says Cait confidently.
‘You’re sure about that?’ I say.
‘Hairy Mary who works in the admin block said they only listen to high-risk prisoners and a tiny random sample. She says she can make sure mine isn’t chosen.’
‘Who’s Hairy Mary and why would she do that for you? You’re paying her in sexual favours, are you?’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ says Cait, laughing. ‘She’s my roomy. The assassin. She just wants cigarettes.’
‘No need to hide the dirty truth from me.’ Fen looks up at me, but I can’t read her expression.
‘Look, she’s one of my fans. There’s a group of women who give me free cigarettes and nice shampoo. They’ve been pushed around by men their whole lives, and they like what they think I did. They say I’ve got style.’
‘Style? You dress like Charlie Bucket’s grandparents,’ I say.
‘Not that kind of style – mystab and burnstyle,’ she says. ‘They’re even asking me what he looked like as he was being cooked.’
‘And what did you say to that?’
‘I said the cheap polyester went up like a flare, and they roared with laughter. I’m sorry, I don’t know where it came from.’
‘Well, you sound like you’re enjoying being the centre of something for once,’ I say. ‘How’s the bail application going?’
‘Good, I think. The fact that I’m a victim of abuse and the mother of adorable twins will work in my favour apparently. So I might be out soon.’
