21:00 To cell
22:00 Lights out
Note: RADCLIFFE, Emily C.—Block D, Cell 216 to bathe WEDNESDAYS / 20:05 / 2nd floor prisoner WC
Note: Wed-Thur no cleaning duty / report instead to factory
“Follow your schedule to the letter,” Warden Barrow said.“Listen for the bell and don’t be tardy, or there will be consequences.”
“Yes, and what exactly—”
“And exercise hour takes place indoors now,” the warden continued, ignoring Emily.“You may walk around at your leisure.”
Emily paused.“Isn’t there an exercise yard?”
The warden vented her irritation in a dramatic sigh.“Normally yes, but outdoor privileges are on suspension.Some inmates chose to abusethat privilege by trying to interact with…at any rate, until further notice, you may exercise indoors.”
The hair on Emily’s arms stood up.Had the inmate who passed the note to Ted the delivery driver caused outdoor time to be suspended?Or, rather, had Doris’s phone call referencing it?
“Now,” the warden continued, “you’ve arrived well after supper, and I’m meant to be gone already.”She said it with a huff, as though it were entirely Emily’s fault.“I’ll have a matron try to scrounge something from the kitchen.They will bring it up to your cell.Now, go with Matron White.I don’t expect to see you back in my office until your release date.Behave yourself.”She raked her eyes over Emily and then snapped her fingers.“Your handbag.”
Emily wasn’t surprised by this, but passed it over reluctantly.
“I brought a toothbrush, underwear,” she said.“Do—”
“They will be provided for you.”
Emily watched her bag disappear into a drawer.Clutching her schedule, she rose and followed Matron White, who was waiting at the door, from the office.
They made their way out into the small foyer, off which Emily spotted three more doors, all shut.They were labelled “Storage,” “Salon,” and “Janitorial.”
Salon?
She knew from studying the outside of the prison that it was laid out in a cross shape, and she was led now to the centre junction and over to two staircases—one leading up, the other down.She followed the tall and broad-hipped guard—matron, they apparently called them—up to the second floor, and then down one of the four corridors that led off it.It was lined with cells, their barred doors open.They were small, and dim inside.She glimpsed narrow beds low to the ground, all tidily made with the same grey blanket.Her throat tightened.It was quiet here, but Emily could hear loud women’s voices on the floor above.
“It’s the recreation hour right now,” Matron White answered her silent question.“The women are mostly upstairs in the rec room.You’llsee it tomorrow, I suppose, as they’re due to return to their cells soon.”She suddenly stopped.“You’re here.”
Emily looked at the plaque outside the cell—216.She swallowed and stepped over the threshold.The matron shut the door behind her, locked it.Her heart pounded harder.
“I might return with some baked beans and bread, if I have time,” she said, and left.
Emily took a deep breath and observed her new living space—if one could call it that.
A bed was shoved into one corner but still took up most of the floor, even though it was narrower than the one she had at home.It was already made, and on the bed was a small pile of items, which Emily pawed through: a nightdress and day dress with an apron and shoes.A toothbrush and a tin of toothpowder rested on top, along with a supply of cloth sanitary pads and a belt.I suppose the hairpins I’m wearing now will have to last six months, Emily thought wryly.She noted a metal chamber pot on the concrete floor with a roll of toilet paper that felt more like butcher’s paper to the touch, thick and rough.
A tap stuck out from the wall a couple of feet up from the floor.She assumed it was for drinking water when the inmates were stuck in their cells each night for hours on end, but Emily didn’t see a cup.Did they have to use their hands?There was also no drain, so any dripping water would pool until it dried naturally.There was no desk or table, and nothing on the brick walls except a bare light bulb, high up near the ceiling.No rug.Nothing, Emily realized, that an inmate could use as a weapon against herself or the staff.There was, at least, natural light.Hers and the cells she could see across the hall each had a small window, high up and barred.She stepped around the perimeter of the room to estimate the size.It was about seven feet wide by eight feet long.She’d used water closets bigger than this.
Emily gingerly sat down on the bed, taking it all in.She’d rarely slept in a room that wasn’t hers; her parents couldn’t afford to travel much beyond day trips to the beach or to see a play at the new theatres inStratford when the girls were young.She’d never been to a sleep-away camp, or stayed in a hotel.
Doris had described her as sheltered, inexperienced.And it hit her then, not with the creeping realization that slinks its way over your shoulders, but with the force of a slap to the face, that she would not retain those labels for much longer.For better or worse, they would be shed like outgrown skin, and she wasn’t entirely sure what she would find underneath.But once more, Nellie Bly’s words came back to her.Taunting.Galvanizing.
I said I could, and I would.
CHAPTER 14
EMILY
The Mercer Women’s Prison, Toronto—June 20, 1961
