The Roll Call at Stonehaven – Part 2: Armistice

She ran the night by the bell. Each hour it rang once, and the wing woke. The Chief Warden walked the length of it, with the lantern and the clipboard, and stopped at each door in turn, and opened the hatch.

"Ambrose. Report."

"Present, Chief Warden."

"Does Ambrose wish to continue?"

"I do, Chief Warden."

"Say it plainly."

"I do. Thank you."

She gave each man a different task. Ambrose she had at the door, standing, reciting the rules of the wing. Tobias she set to fold and refold a grey blanket, to the standard of a barracks inspection, again and again, until his hands knew the shape. Wilf she kept silent, kneeling, in the corner of his cell, for an hour, while she stood in the corridor and said nothing. She corrected each of them with a low word, a tap of her pen on the grille, a finger lifted under a chin.

It was strict and wonderfully ordinary, a night of attention, and none of them, in their separate cells, felt alone.

At midnight she brought a tray and served each man a cup of tea through the hatch, with her own hand, and each of them thanked her, and each time she said, "The Chief Warden does not require thanks." But she stayed at each door a moment longer than she needed.

At two the bulbs dimmed to amber. She stood at the head of the wing and rang the bell, once, and the sound rolled along the iron like the end of a long day.

"Armistice," said Delphine, softly.

It was her word, and she spoke it for all four. She took off the charcoal jacket, hung it on the desk lamp and opened each door in turn. The three men came out in their socks and sat in a row on the bottom step of the iron stair, and she sat down above them, in her old jumper, with a flask.

"How are you?"

"Locked up," said Ambrose, laughing damply. "Beautifully."

"Tannoy'd," said Tobias, "I think. Switched off."

"Noticed," said Wilf, with an odd, unsteady smile. "That's it. I felt noticed."

"You were all magnificent." She poured the tea. "The best roll call this wing has had in a hundred years."

"Will there be another?" said Ambrose.

"The second Saturday in March." She smiled. "I am rewriting the clipboard."

"I'll bring a pencil," said Tobias.

"You will bring your names," said Delphine, "and answer to them."

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