“This way, come on.Front door,” the bailiff said, hustling.She sounded bored, as though she had done this three times already this week.
Emily gathered herself, and focused.If this womandidin fact do this often, she might have good information to offer.“How many girls have you dropped off in the past month?”Emily asked as the bailiff unlocked the gate and they made their way down the gravel path.
The bailiff looked sideways at her and scowled.“What an odd question,” she said, not answering it.Emily didn’t press for more.She couldn’t risk drawing suspicion before she’d even set foot in the place.
They were nearing the doors now, and Emily looked up at the sign above them, carved in capital letters in aged stone: MERCER WOMEN’S PRISON.
A surge of adrenaline hit her then.She was walking into a prison, something she’d never dreamed would ever happen in her middle-class, law-abiding life.And for a fleeting moment her nerves threatened to choke out her determination.Maybe this was too dangerous, or even mad.Maybe she couldn’t, or shouldn’t do it.What if she was risking herself, and there wasn’t even a story here?
But she knew in her heart that there was.
The bailiff rang a doorbell that Emily couldn’t hear inside, and a moment later, a female guard clad in a pressed white uniform and cap answered the door and greeted the bailiff by name, confirming Emily’s suspicion that there was some regularity to these proceedings.
“Radcliffe, Emily Carolyn,” the bailiff droned.
The matron waved them through.“Warden Barrow is expecting you.You’re late.”
Emily didn’t have much time to take in the foyer before she was shunted to an open door on the right.She sawWarden’s Officestencilled on it as she passed through, then stood awkwardly, hands clasped in front of her.
The office was surprisingly homey, with shining wood floors.Dark-blue curtains hung from the large windows, which Emily noticed were not barred, though she was sure she’d seen bars on the other windowsfrom the outside.But this boded well; perhaps the place was not the concrete block she’d been envisioning.
There was a woman seated at the desk who must be the warden.Emily reckoned she was about the same age as her own mother, somewhere in her late forties.She wore a deep rose-coloured lipstick but no eye makeup, which was counter to the current trend.
The warden and the bailiff hardly exchanged a dozen words between them as Emily waited.The bailiff thrust some paperwork at the warden, who signed something.The bailiff handed her a file and departed without a word to Emily, passing the guard who had greeted them.
“Sit down,” the warden instructed.Emily sat in the chair across from her and peered over the warden’s shoulder out the window.She could just make out the traffic in the distance at the corner of Fraser and King, and the dark-brown brick and arched glass windows of the Toronto Carpet Factory, the prison’s closest neighbour to the west.She looked back at Warden Barrow and waited.
“Emily Radcliffe,” Warden Barrow finally said in the tone of a strict schoolteacher, scanning the file in front of her.“I understand you are here by means of the FRA, is that correct?”
“Yes.”Emily looked at the brown file on the warden’s desk, aching with curiosity to know how the court record had characterized her.She looked up at the warden, took in her brownish-red hair swept back in a roll.She was a curvy woman with wide shoulders, but her expression was as flat as a prairie desert.
“Our rules at the Mercer are simple,” Warden Barrow clipped.“Adhere to your schedule, obey the matrons, and don’t stir up trouble.Wait out your time until your release, and do not do anything to get sent back here.And if you step out of line, Miss Radcliffe, there will be consequences.”
Emily opened her mouth to ask what sort of consequences the warden referred to, but Barrow plowed on.“Your file tells me you harbour a certain disregard for rules.I hope your time at the Mercer will serve to remedy this unfortunate blight on your character.”She fixedEmily with a sharp look.“I expect better of you than what I see here, Miss Radcliffe.And you should expect better of yourself, too.”
She thrust a sheet of paper at Emily.
7:00 Wake and breakfast
7:45 Prayer time
8:15 Laundry duty
10:30 Exercise
11:30 Lesson—typing
12:30 Dinner
13:30 Lesson—domestics
14:30 Cleaning duty OR factory
16:00 Meal prep’n duty
18:00 Supper
19:00 Recreation
