Living with Shadows (19 page)

Michael.
I
was
so
shocked
when
I
came
into
work
today
and
heard
what
had
happened.
I
never
realised
that
that
you
were
feeling
so
low.
You
should
have
told
me
how
much
you
were
dreading
going
before
the
Lifers’
Board.
Perhaps
John
or
I
could
have
been
there
with
you
to
give
you
some
support.

I
wish
there
was
something
I
could
say
or
do
to
make
you
feel
that
life
is
worth
living.
I
know
from
experience
what
it
is
to
lose
someone
close
and,
although
you
say
that
no
one
would
miss
you
if
you
were
to
die,
it’s
just
not
true.
Even
though
you
think
your
family
don’t
bother
to
come
and
see
you,
it’s
not
always
the
fact
they
don’t
care
about
you.
People
get
caught
up
in
their
own
lives
and
once
you
lose
touch
it’s
sometimes
difficult
to
make
contact
again.
They
might
feel
that
you
don’t
make
an
effort
to
get
in
touch
with
them,
which
could
lead
to
them
thinking
that
you’re
doing
all
right.

You
remember
I
told
you
that
my
brother
died
recently?
It
was
such
a
shock
because
even
though
he
suffered
periods
of
illness,
none
of
us
realised
how
serious
it
was.
His
immune
system
didn’t
work
properly
so
he
had
to
have
an
infusion
of
antibodies
every
three
weeks.
He
needed
someone
to
be
with
him
during
the
treatment
and,
without
asking,
he
nominated
me.
I
remember
thinking
at
the
time
what
a
bind
it
would
be,
having
to
make
myself
available
on
a
particular
day
every
three
weeks.
It
seemed
I
already
had
so
much
to
do.
Anyway,
I
agreed
to
it
and
now
I’m
so
glad
that
I
did.
Sometimes
I
feel
so
selfish
that
I
could
have
even
thought
about
not
helping
him.
Had
I
decided
not
to
do
it,
I
know
I
would
have
felt
terrible
about
it
now
and
there
would
be
no
going
back
to
get
it
right.

If
you
really
feel
you
can’t
talk
to
anybody
about
what
you
are
going
through,
have
you
ever
thought
about
going
to
the
chapel?
I
know
a
few
of
the
lads
go
and
seem
to
get
some
sort
of
comfort
from
it.
Also,
there
are
people
in
here
who
are
trained
listeners,
so
perhaps
that’s
another
option.

Was
it
because
of
not
wanting
to
face
the
Lifers’
Board
made
you
try
to
take
your
own
life,
or
is
there
another
reason
why
you
are
so
desperately
unhappy?
If
there’s
anything
I
can
do
to
make
you
feel
better,
you
know
I’ll
try.

Please
think
about
what
I’ve
said,
Michael.
Life
is
too
precious
to
throw
away.
You’re
still
young
enough
to
make
a
new
life
for
yourself.
Try
to
stay
positive
and
I’ll
see
you
again
soon
if
you’d
like
me
to.

Kate

P.S.
Sorry
if
I
sound
as
though
I’m
preaching;
there’s
just
so
much
going
on
in
my
head.

The following Friday Kate waited anxiously to be taken across to the hospital. It suddenly occurred to her that she did not know how Mac had tried to kill himself and wondered in what state she would find him.

The hospital wing was not dissimilar to the rest of the prison with its steel doors and grey stairs and corridors. Once inside, there was another delay. Everyone was at lunch and she had to wait for a nurse to escort her to the wards. A television in the waiting room helped pass the time, but she couldn’t concentrate on the items of news that flashed over its screen. She was feeling apprehensive about seeing Michael. She wondered what frame of mind he’d be in, what they would talk about. Though John was convinced the reason Mac was in here was because of his fear of the Lifers’ Board, he wasn’t aware of the full picture.

The wait seemed endless. The waiting room was small and airless, doubling as a kitchen. Why was it that sinks used by staff were always packed with unwashed crockery? It crossed her mind whether to wash up while she was waiting but the thought of being found with her sleeves rolled up clearing up other people’s mess might make her seem weird. One side of the room was a seating area and consisted of three modern blue fabric chairs pushed together and two or three armchairs, none of which was the least bit comfortable. Out of sheer boredom, she walked around the room reading leaflets and notices pinned to the walls. The everyday content of the literature made her forget she was in prison until a female voice startled her.

‘Are you here to see Michael?’

She swept around to where a small, dark haired young nurse was standing in the doorway. She gave a pleasant smile and Kate followed her down some stairs, through another steel door and onto a long corridor from which she was shown into another waiting room and asked to take a seat while she went to fetch Michael. Soon, she heard footsteps approaching. Kate sat up and looked towards the door as Michael entered the room looking nervous and pale. He was wearing a long white baggy t-shirt over a pair of navy jogging trousers. His clothes hung off him, making him look thinner than ever. Both wrists were neatly bound in white bandages. He sat down on the bench seat that ran at right angles to where she sat and looked straight ahead. His face was gaunt and his eyes seemed full of pain and torment. Kate wanted to put her arms around him and comfort him but she knew it was out of the question.

When she spoke, they weren’t the words she intended to say initially. ‘Why did you do it, Michael?’

He answered keeping his eyes averted from hers. ‘Because I hate it in here.’

‘But it won’t always be like this; you have to think about when you get out.’

‘Do you think anyone would want to know me when I told them what I’d done?’

‘You wouldn’t need to tell them right away. Once they got to know you . . .’

‘I couldn’t do that. I’d have to tell them right away and that would be it. They’d run a mile.’