Nikki Wade slammed the heavy green door with all her might sighing as she surveyed the dark grey corridor in front of her, taking her back to her confinement. ‘That bloody Doctor is a joke’ she muttered as she set off down the silent corridor. She had asked to see the SMO as a result of a failed argument with a gardening fork that had left her with a gash along her right thigh. Doctor Mitchell had applied some TCP and three bad stitches and an unpleasant dose of halitosis to Nikki. She longed for the misapplication of the NHS when she finally got out of her incarceration. ‘In fact’ she thought ‘ I must do something about private health care when I get out’.

As Nikki walked along the corridor it occurred to her that she was unaccompanied and more importantly the place was eerily silent. She kept walking and soon found that she was in the administrative wing of the prison. ‘ A short walk to Helen’. Nikki stopped in her tracks, should she? Could she take the risk of visiting the wing governor unannounced? “Why not” she said out loud as she began to stride purposefully towards Helen’s office. She stared at the nameplate on the door ‘ Helen Stewart-Wing Governor – G wing ‘ she took a deep breath and gave a small sharp but diffident knock on the oak door. Nothing. She knocked again. No response. She pressed her ear against the door. No sound. Suddenly and for the first time she looked round and realised that Helen’s secretary was not her desk and then it dawned on her it was eleven am and all prison staff were at a staff meeting held by Helen. Nikki began to turn round and head back to the wing when she decided that she would take advantage of the situation and leave Helen a message. She walked back to the door and turned the *****.

The office was small with dark red walls and two small inconsequential prints breaking up the heavy colour. The room was rectangular in shape and to the left of the door sat the large heavy mahogany desk. The desk was simply a three-sided box with no legs, the wood stretching from its flat top to the floor. It seemed out of place in such a small room. Nikki walked toward it and gently grazed her hand across the smooth wood. She looked around the desk for a pen and piece of paper. As she opened the left hand drawer of the desk she became aware of voices in the corridor she could just about make out Helen’s Scottish accent. As the voices grew nearer she realised that the other voice was that of Jim Fenner. ‘*****’. She frantically searched round the room. Nowhere to hide.’ *****’.