Page 100 of Maybe Tomorrow

‘You’re going to have an assessment tomorrow so we can decide which wing will be best suited to you. We have a list of your current medication and that’s being sorted out for you now. Anthony, I have to ask, are you suicidal?’

He looked at the officer. ‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘Have you ever attempted suicide in the past?’

‘No.’

‘That’s good. Now, Blackmoor is currently at full capacity. We don’t usually allow someone who has committed your type of crime to share a cell, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to have a cellmate for the foreseeable future. Until we can work out where to put you, you’re going to stay in the first-night centre. That will help you adjust to prison life, and it is also for your own safety. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

Anthony looked at him. Again, he knew the words he was using, but they sounded like they should be spoken to someone else. He hadn’t committed any crime. He shouldn’t be here. This was all wrong.

Anthony merely nodded.

‘When can I phone my mum?’ he asked.

‘The booklet you’ve been given will tell you all about visitor times and telephone allocation. I suggest you give it a read this evening and, if you have any questions, you can ask them at your full assessment tomorrow.’

They turned a corner, and the officer unlocked a door.

Anthony stepped inside the room. It was roughly the same size as his bedroom at home, though there was only one tiny window which had no handle to open it. It was painted in a warm cream colour. It had carpet and a comfortable-looking bed. He felt himself soften, slightly. He could relax here. He hoped his cell would be like this when he had one allocated to him.

‘Is there anything you need now, Anthony?’ the officer asked.

‘Can I have something to eat and drink?’

‘Teatime is at five o’clock.’

‘OK. Do we get a choice?’

The officer frowned. ‘No. You get what you’re given.’ He turned on his heel and closed the door behind him, locking it with a key.

Anthony sat on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the prison on the other side of the door. All he could hear was shouting, doors being slammed, and swear words his mum would never let him use.

He felt scared. He’d been scared before, many times. His mum always told him that the names he was called couldn’t hurt him, but they did, they really did. They hurt him inside.

There was a knock on the door. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t answer it as it was locked.

‘Is that you in there, Winstanley?’ The voice was low, barely audible.

‘Yes,’ Anthony answered.

‘Enjoy your first night.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Get a good night’s sleep.’

‘I will. Thank you.’

‘Because it’ll be your last. We’re going to make your life fucking hell for what you did to Alice.’

‘But… I didn’t do anything.’

‘Course you didn’t. Fucking nonce!’

Anthony lay down on the bed. There was a musty smell to the pillow he didn’t like. He hugged it close to him and the tears flowed.

‘I want to go home,’ he said.