Free Feeding the Demons by Gabrielle Lord

girls. We get a nicer type of client here.’ Her voice dripped with irony. ‘But I’ll certainly keep my ears open. I’ll ask Jasmine too. She’s working the streets now. She got busted for using and Lorraine threw her out.’ Shelly examined a spot on her chin in the mirror opposite the nude painting, and pushed some wayward hair behind her ear. She suddenly looked very young.
    ‘How’s your daughter?’ Gemma asked.
    ‘High school next year. I’m getting to the stage where I’ll have to give the game away. I tell her and the family that I’m in Public Relations, which in fact I am, but she’s a smart cookie, that one.’
    ‘What will you do?’ Gemma asked.
    ‘Not sure yet,’ she said. ‘I’ve put some money away. My stepfather said he’d help me get something.’ Shelly squashed the cigarette out. ‘It’s the least he can do. He’s been screwing me for years.’
    The doorbell chimed. ‘That’ll be my next job,’ said Shelly. ‘I’d better run. Let him in for me, will you? Let’s have a coffee soon.’ And she ran up the stairs, leaving Gemma to open the gate. The middle-aged man looked her up and down, then smiled. Gemma pushed past him and out the gate, hurrying through the courtyard.
    •
    Silverwater Road seemed unnaturally busy and the sky above was a glaring white, hot and humid, the air stinking with diesel fumes. It felt more like a February day than October. Gemma made the turn towards the prison and then swung off the road up to the boom gate and the gatekeepers. She told them who she was and who she’d come to see. They checked their visitors’ lists and indicated where she might park.
    After parking the car, Gemma walked towards the entrance. Inmates in their dark green overalls eyed her. Although the cyclone wire fences surrounded block-style buildings that could have been a modern high school or university complex, the razor wire hooped around the barriers at the top of the fence reminded people where they really were. As she walked towards the office area, she was met by a middle-aged man wearing a Corrective Services uniform. He recognised her from previous visits and accompanied her down to the recreation room.
    ‘He’s waiting for you,’ said the officer. Gemma walked quickly down the linoleum corridor, where a couple of the inmates laboured over a mop and bucket. They stepped back to allow her to pass and she walked into the large recreation room, where tables and chairs stood around and vending machines offered chips and instant cappuccino. Gemma passed a man making a phone call from a coin-operated telephone on the wall, and another inmate looked up at her as she made her way towards the other side of the room.
    Gemma saw an old, frail man waiting for someone, sitting alone at a far window, looking out. She realised he was looking out for her, but she’d parked behind the building this time so he hadn’t seen her . This was her third visit. She paused a second, looking at him. He seemed immensely alone and sadness welled up from deep inside of her. She collected herself, then went over to him. His face lit up when he saw her and he rose quickly from the chair. They hadn’t got to the hugging stage yet, but Gemma longed to say something from a heart that was overflowing with love, awkwardness and confusion.
    ‘Hullo, Dad,’ she finally said, putting her hand out to pat his arm. Then she squeezed her lips together to stop herself from crying.

 
Five
    The following afternoon, Gemma decided it was time to take her body in hand. Finishing work early, she changed into shorts, sports bra and joggers, grabbed her gym bag with its towel and toiletries, and took a jacket.
    The Seals Club at Maroubra had a gym that would never attract the lycra set, thought Gemma, and a good thing too. Right on the top of an ugly ’sixties building, it commanded stunning views of the wild and wilful beach that never made it in the fashion stakes, despite Little Patti stomping at Maroubra.