THIS WEEK’S RAP SHEET:
The prowler: Nikki sneaks out into the inky night.
The party girl: Bodybag is the belle of the ball.
The prat: Fenner is back to his loathsome self.
Another Larkhall morning — Ah, here we are again, and I still say it looks like a castle. But I’m sure it doesn’t really smell like one. Or maybe it does: Are we talking modern or medieval?
In the wing office, an exasperated Dominic is rummaging through drawers and shuffling stacks of paper. He has lost a set of photos. They’re for his passport, which disappeared yesterday. Never carry your passport around if you don’t absolutely have to, Dom. And don’t just guess at what the signs say if you’re in a station in Germany — no passport in the world can help you if you board the wrong train and end up hurtling through the heartless darkness, all alone. Trust me on this.
As Dom sighs and frets, Hollamby compiles a guest list.
Fenner: [looking over her shoulder] I don’t see Karen’s name down there.
Hollamby: Why would I want to celebrate 30 years of marriage with the woman who’s just had me demoted?
Fenner: You’re lucky you even have a job after what you did.
Dominic: Why? She only gave a prisoner her key. Where’s the harm in that?
Di, who’s standing as close to Dominic as she can, giggles conspiratorially. Yes, Di, that joke was just for you.
Hollamby wants to know why Fenner is "Betts’ champion" all of a sudden. I think it has something to do with being Betts’ plaything, but I’m trying not to dwell on that because it has already scarred me. Just in time, Karen shows up to ask Sylvia for the guest list; security has been asking her for it. Sylvia quickly adds Karen’s name and turns over the list.
Karen: They also want the names of the red bands serving the food and drinks.
Hold up. Prisoners will be serving the food and drinks? Security needs the guest list? Hollamby’s having her 30th wedding anniversary bash at HMP Larkhall?!
Of course. Why shouldn’t she? Who wouldn’t want to throw a giant anniversary blowout at her place of employment? You know, the place you curse and lament and can’t wait to get away from. It’s the best way to make sure you’re surrounded by friends and esteemed colleagues, including everyone who knows you just got demoted and everyone who saw you take a header down the stairs at the hands of murderous cons. But whatever — there’s that looks-like-a-castle factor, and Hollamby is nothing if not practical. And cheap.
A phone call — Nikki, who is having yet another good hair day (does the woman ever have bad hair days?), is on the phone.
Nikki: Hi, Trish. It’s me. I need a favor, darling. [pausing as Shell bounces by] Cash. Three grand. In two lots. And I’ll need it in a hurry.
Whoa. This seems more like the sort of phone call Yvonne makes. Has Trish joined the mob? More important, is it really wise to ask your ex for three grand? Even more important, what are you going to do with all that cash, Nik?
As if she can’t resist a good cloak-and-dagger conversation, Yvonne stands nearby. She’s chatting with Hollamby about a pending inter-prison visit with her husband, Charlie. Shell bounces back over and wonders why Yvonne wants to see Charlie anyway, considering Renee Williams’ revelation regarding his extracurricular activities.
Yvonne: It’s called love. You don’t break up a marriage on the say-so of a tart.
This reminds me: Hillary in ’08!
Shell: She seemed to know him pretty well. Especially what she said about that scar.
Yvonne: You’ll have a scar if you don’t piss off.
That was sort of the mob equivalent of "I know you are, but what am I?" but it worked anyway.