Living with Shadows (48 page)

P.S. I hope we can still be friends after this I did say in this that theres no real harm in fancying someone I hope you see it that way as well

Mike

Reading this letter left Kate feeling worried. It seemed as though he was tying up loose ends, making sure she knew how much he fancied her yet there was a sense of needing to tell her in case something happened. And then she turned the page—Mac’s attempt at poetry.

Secret fantasy

After I saw the sparkle in your eyes

I was left completely mesmerized with your long brown beautiful hair you would look great dressed as a vampirer having to wait for you to come out at night

I think you would look sexy waring black suspenders if I was lucky I would not run off in fright if I got this lucky sight

I would gladly let you have a bite

Then I would be completely satisfied

Then I hope that you would be to

So hows about putting this to the test by filling my head with your sexy conquest even though your so mature I still think you still got soft white smooth skin you still got a sexy pair of pins to match that sexy figure

I bet you could light my firer I think I better

get a cold shower

Now that was more like Mac, carried away with his fantasies. She skimmed through the letter again and knew she wouldn’t say anything to him about what had been on her mind, not yet anyway. Perhaps if he got involved with his project on the Beatles he might not have as much time to write to her.

And then something happened that made Kate realise that at some point, sooner rather than later, she had to get Michael to stop. When she got home she discovered one of her rings was missing. She knew that she’d had it that morning because she remembered slipping it on her finger after putting on her hand cream. She went out and searched the car but there was no sign of it there.

When she got into work the following day she asked in the office if anyone had handed in a gold ring, which was met with some amusement. Undaunted, she asked her students, explaining that although it wasn’t very expensive it did have sentimental value as her husband had bought it for her one time on holiday. Never missing an opportunity to have fun at her expense, one or two of the men made comments about him being a ‘tight git’ for buying her cheap jewellery. She didn’t mind their jokes but something that did worry her was Mark’s comment. He looked at her and then at Michael, and with a wry smile said, ‘Perhaps you haven’t lost it at all. Perhaps you’ve given it to someone.’

‘And why would I do that?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe you fancy him.’

‘And maybe you’ve got an over active imagination,’ Kate told him firmly, aware of the colour rising to her cheeks. She remembered catching Mark looking at the two of them the day before, just after Michael had passed her his envelope, and wondered at the time if he’d seen anything. She hoped he wouldn’t try to make something out of it, for Michael’s sake rather than her own.

Friday, and Kate was thankful it was her last morning at work before the weekend. Since staying with her mother, she had come to realise it wasn’t a good idea to leave her on her own for very long. As well as the forgetfulness, she was quite unsteady on her feet and Kate was worried about her using the stairs. Her brother and sisters also worked during the day so they could be of no help but they agreed that sheltered accommodation might be a solution. Mother would have the last word, of course. As Kate approached the prison gates, her mind was anywhere but work. In fact she was already thinking about leaving.

The first part of the morning went quickly enough. The topic for discussion, was it right to prescribe drugs to young children with behavioural problems, proved very emotive. Surprisingly, given that many prisoners were inside for drug pushing, no one was in favour of dispensing drugs to children.

Half-way through the lesson, the lads went out of the classroom for their break. Michael brought a plastic bag over and asked if she would look after his ‘canteen’ while he went for a smoke. There was nothing unusual in this so she put it down beside her and continued checking through the handouts for the second part of the lesson. Michael was still hovering around and he seemed a little edgy.

‘Did you want something, Michael?’

‘Not really . . . except I thought you looked a bit down, that’s all.’

It wasn’t the first time he’d picked up on her mood. ‘Oh, I’m OK. Just a few things on my mind. Nothing I can’t sort out.’

Now that he’d managed to get her talking, he sat down on the edge of the desk and started to fiddle with the corner of her folder. ‘You know I fancy you, don’t you,’ he began.

Kate felt uneasy, almost afraid of what he would say next. ‘Yes, but you know . . .’

‘Course I do. I know a lot of things, especially when you’re not happy. You need to talk to that husband of yours . . . put things right.’

His words took her by surprise and her response must have told him he’d hit on something. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Just remember I said it, that’s all.’ He looked serious and continued to stare into her eyes as though he was reading her mind. Kate felt a rush of alarm. And then he got up from the table and walked out leaving her wondering if he had some sort of sixth sense because she had told him nothing about her marital problems, or that she’d moved in with her mother.

Soon the lads were back and settled into their work. Kate walked around the classroom overseeing each student and helping where necessary. This part of the lesson seemed to go much slower than the rather noisy, yet interesting debate in the first half.

It was about ten minutes before the end when suddenly the door burst open and two prison officers entered the room and called out Mac’s name. They strode over to him and told him to stand up. Everyone turned to look and Michael looked totally embarrassed. He glanced towards Kate with a pained expression on his face and she watched his body appear to buckle as he was marched out by the officers. She remained watching until they were out of sight.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ Gerry asked.

‘I’ve no idea,’ Kate replied still staring at the open door as if it might all have been in her imagination.

‘He’s left his canteen,’ someone was quick to notice.

‘I’ll see to it,’ she said, as a hundred questions leapt into her mind, along with a deep sense of fear. She asked herself if this could have anything to do with her missing ring, or that strange conversation they’d had earlier. The office staff knew about the ring. What if they’d asked the officers to make a search and they’d found it in Michael’s cell? She dismissed the idea almost immediately because she knew that Michael would never steal off her. She could see Mark looking at her as she searched for an answer.

‘I bet he’s had a cell search and they’ve found something,’ Mark said.

‘Yeah, they’re ‘avin’ a crack down on drugs. I bet ‘e’ll be the next to be shipped out like Tommy.’

Before it became the second debate of the morning, Kate asked the students to finish off what they were doing and put their work away. The concern she had felt earlier for her mother had been replaced by a feeling of nausea when she thought that whatever was happening with Michael must be reasonably serious by the way he’d been ousted from the classroom. They put their work into their folders and then looked at her for guidance. There were still several excruciating minutes to the end of the lesson and she couldn’t think of one thing to say so she sat down and ran her eyes over the register, making sure she had marked everyone in. She could feel their eyes boring into her and she couldn’t look up. She picked up her pen and poised it over the register, but there was nothing else to fill in and she could feel a burning sensation creeping into her face. She was just about to stand up and let them go when the bell went for the end of class and relief swept over her.

‘Can we go, miss?’someone asked.

‘Yes . . . I’ll see you on Monday.’ She noticed a few smirks on one or two faces as they left and wondered what had been going through their heads in those last few moments.

As soon as everyone had gone from the classroom and the corridor outside was inmate free, the prison officers returned.

‘Can we look inside that bag McKeown gave you?’ one of them asked.

‘He asked me to look after it while he went on his break,’ Kate told them. Though she had nothing to hide, she was sure she looked guilty.

‘Are these for you?’ the same officer asked, showing her two boxes of chocolates.

‘No. I told you, it’s Michael’s canteen; I didn’t even know what was inside. He asked me to look after it for him,’ she repeated. Suddenly, it dawned on her. They
were
for her. He’d said he would get her something for typing his story. Again, she felt herself blushing and wondered if Michael had said anything to them. She was scared of dropping him in it but at the same time scared of being branded a liar.

‘We’ve reason to believe he bought them for you,’ he persisted.

Just then the head of education came in. A wave of relief hit her for the second time as the officers turned and muttered something to him on the way out.

Mr. Davies came over and asked her to sit down. Kate told him the whole story but impressed upon him that she had no idea that Michael’s canteen was meant for her. He seemed to believe her and promised Kate he would make sure they were given her side of the story.

‘What will happen to Michael?’ she asked. ‘Surely, what he’s done isn’t so terrible.’

‘He knows the rules. Prisoners aren’t supposed to give gifts to anyone. It can be seen as a bribe.’

‘But not Mac; he’s so honest . . .’

‘Maybe he is, and I’m sure this isn’t the first time something like this has happened, but it is serious if they’re caught. There’ll be an inquest and hopefully he’ll just get a telling off.’

Kate pictured him being marched out of the classroom, the look on his face as he was ordered to stand up and his retreating figure as he went through the door into the corridor and out of sight as though for the last time. Suddenly, she was fearful for him. ‘I think they should watch him,’ she blurted.

‘Why, do you think he’ll try something?’

‘It was just the look on his face. He was so embarrassed . . .’

‘Right, I’ll mention it. Now, you’d better get off. I’ll pass on what you’ve just told me.’

She was pretty sure he believed her, at least she hoped so. As she picked up her things she could not stop thinking about what had happened. She felt responsible for the whole situation. She should have made it absolutely clear to Mac that she couldn’t . . . wouldn’t accept anything from him. She knew that he would be worrying about having got her into trouble. He was always saying what a trouble he was to her. The whole episode only added to her problems. She told herself things probably weren’t as bad as she imagined and everything would have settled down by Monday. Mac would get a ticking off and maybe lose a few privileges. Surely, it wasn’t such a big deal to give your tutor chocolates as a thank you. If only she could truly believe that were true. It seemed the shadows that had so often darkened huge chunks of her life were never so very far away.

When she got home, Kate could not shake off the incident with Michael. She even thought about ringing the prison that evening; make sure they’d been told of her fears. In the end she talked herself out of it. She imagined the reaction of the person at the other end of the phone, their indignation at someone trying to tell them how to do their job, not to mention what they would make of a female tutor showing so much concern for one of the inmates.

Kate spent the whole weekend sorting through her brother’s possessions which still claimed space in several rooms in the house. It was a way of erasing her worries by substituting a potential tragedy for the
real
thing. Her brother’s death almost twelve months ago was still painful to her, to them all, which is one reason why no one had found the courage to go through his things. To open cupboards and drawers and see familiar items of clothing or to find something pertaining to one of his hobbies, a camera, golf balls, maps, produced a feeling inside her like no other. There was something sacred about everything she touched and a sense of having to treat everything with reverence. James was there in his photographs and in his diaries. To see him up a mountain or with friends and family, to read about his daily events and thoughts, brought him back. These inanimate things amounted to a
life
, one that she recognised was also a part of her and it did not stop
being
because of death.