The Lady Jailer of Greystone – Part 2: Visiting

It was the best sentence of the seven. She took him through it by the old routine, every detail of which he knew by heart. The long grey corridor. The numbered cell. The clang of the door. The latch, plain and bright. The sound of her key on its hook. The silence that followed, enormous and warm.

She came at every half hour, by the wall clock, and stood in front of the door. She inspected him, and the cell, and found both in order, and told him so, in the same flat voice she had used for seven years. She set him a task, to stand at the window, hands behind him, facing the courtyard, for an hour while she sat outside the door with a book. She made him recite the Regulations, as she did every year, from memory, and corrected him once, mildly, when he mixed up the third clause and the fourth.

"Does the prisoner wish to continue?"

"Yes, Jailer."

"Say it plainly."

"I do, Jailer. Thank you."

"The Jailer does not require thanks." But she smiled in the dark.

At midnight she sat on the stool outside the open door and read to him, through the grille, from a thick novel they had both loved, in the low level voice she had once used to read to prisoners in a real hospital wing. He sat on the plank bunk with his back against the wall and his eyes closed. It was the most peaceful hour of his year.

At two she closed the book.

"Visiting," said Philippa, softly.

It was the word, and she spoke it for them both. The cap came off. She opened the door and came in and sat on the bunk beside him, in her ordinary cardigan, and drew the grey blanket round them both.

"How are you?"

"Seven years," said Matthias, in a low, wondering voice. "And it is still the best thing I do."

"I feel the same." She kissed his forehead. "You were a model prisoner, as always."

"Will you be my Jailer next year?"

"If you will be my prisoner." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I have already booked the second weekend of October."

"I'll bring my own pen for the register," said Matthias.

"You will bring your name," said Philippa, "and a pot of very strong tea."

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