Terry picked up Amber’s glasses and handed them to her.

‘Thanks. I was wondering where those had got to.’ She put them back on. ‘And thanks for backing me up.’

He shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

She rubbed the side of her head. It still stung from the blow.

‘I think so.’

‘Side-handle batons. That’s what we need. Like I’m always saying.’

Amber was much more inclined to agree with him now she’d tasted violence first-hand. It had been her first experience of it in here and she hadn’t felt particularly able to protect herself.

She left the canteen.

As she was walking along the corridor, Terry caught up with her.

‘Hey Amber,’ he whispered, looking around to check that there was no one watching.

‘Yeah?’ she said.

He pulled something from his pocket and offered it to her. In his open palm was what appeared to be a small aerosol canister.

‘CS gas. Technically illegal, but it could save your life if things go tits up in a big way.’

He pressed it into her palm and before she could say anything he was gone.

She looked down at the CS gas. The sight of the small black can sent an illicit frisson through her and she slipped it quickly into her pocket before anyone could notice.

This certainly hadn’t been in her prison officer training.

Chapter 47

Later that evening, Bailey was lying on her bunk doing a cryptic crossword, killing time before lights went out, absently curling her loose lock of hair around her fingers and letting it uncurl as she tried to work out the answers.

Sharon was sitting on the chair, one foot up on the desk, cutting her toenails, the sound of the clippers loud inside the small cell. The toenail clippings were pinging randomly over the desk and the floor of the cell and Sharon didn’t appear to be making any effort to clear them up.

‘Did you see that fight in the canteen today?’ said Sharon. Clip, clip.

‘It was hard to miss.’

‘It blew up really suddenly, didn’t it?’ Clip.

‘They usually do.’

As a policewoman, Bailey had witnessed a fair number of fights. They mostly followed the same pattern – a sudden explosive outburst of violence that was usually over in a matter of seconds. Today’s altercation had been no different.

‘Did you see, poor old Amber got her glasses knocked off,’ said Sharon. Clip, clip. A toenail clipping ricocheted onto the floor by the bunks.

Bailey had felt bad for Amber, as a rookie, having to deal with a situation like that all by herself. As soon as it had kicked off, her policewoman’s instincts had jumped to the fore and she’d had to stop herself from rushing in to give Amber a hand, knowing that she could easily have ended the situation. But she’d been sitting with the ABC at their corner table and it would have looked exceedingly suspicious if she, a mere accountant, had leapt in and applied expert control and restraint procedures, not to mention helping a prison officer, who they more or less regarded as the enemy.