16
With a few notable exceptions (those in the slot, those in psych), the entire inmate population of Wentworth Correctional Centre gathered around their televisions to watch Hayley Jovanka’s interview with Joan Ferguson.
Boomer rushed in, brandishing her beloved Monte Carlos. “Have I missed it?” she shouted as she hurried to the little couch. “What’s the Freak saying?”
“You’re fine, love,” Liz replied, lifting the blanket for Boomer. “There’s still a couple of minutes.”
Boomer settled in as Sonia handed Liz a cup of tea. “I’ve only known Joan Ferguson as a prisoner,” Sonia pondered aloud, “and for all of your stories, she always appeared rather meek.”
“The Freak?” Boomer barked. “Meek? Fuck off, eh! That’s a good one!” Boomer waved her Monte Carlo in the air, dissolving into laughter.
Liz smiled at Boomer’s mirth, shaking her head. “Ferguson is anything but meek. Sonia, what you saw out there in the yard, in the lunch room… all of that was an act. Ferguson is manipulative and conniving. She’s lethal. And now that she’s out, well…”
Sonia quirked her head. “What on earth can she do now that she’s out?”
“Anything,” Liz replied heavily. “It’s not like she’s on parole. She’s a free woman. She could even…” Liz trailed off again, contemplating her thought.
“What?” Boomer asked. “She could what?”
“She could become Governor again.”
Boomer and Sonia stared at her.
“Interesting,” Sonia stated.
“What the fuck?” Boomer asked, processing this idea. “The Freak as Gov again? I’d like to watch her try! If she set one foot back in here, me and the girls would bash her!”
Liz nodded. “I suspect you’re right, Boomer. She’d have to be suicidal to come back here.”
Sonia stared at the television. “Oh, I don’t know,” she stated mildly.
The other two looked at her with incredulity.
Sonia shrugged gracefully. “I know a little something about women in power,” she explained. “They have to be driven, willing to make sacrifices. If Joan Ferguson is what you say she is, then I wouldn’t be surprised to see her try to get her old job back.”
“Fuck,” Boomer exclaimed, biting into her Monte Carlo. Liz leaned back, contemplating Sonia’s idea.
“In fact,” Sonia continued, “I wouldn’t be surprised if this interview tonight is her first step to taking back the Governorship. If the Board is reluctant to rehire her, then an interview would be an obvious attempt to bring public sympathy to her side.”
“Holy shit,” Boomer muttered. “But what about Ms. Bennett?”
Sonia pondered that. “Is Vera Bennett strong enough to take on Joan Ferguson?” she asked.
Liz and Boomer exchanged glances. “No fucking way!” Boomer said.
“Then if I was the Governor, I’d be very careful right now,” Sonia replied.
***
Maxine stood a little away from the others, listening to their conversation. She suspected that Sonia was right about the Freak, but she noted that none of the others had come to the ultimate conclusion yet. They didn’t yet recognize what the Freak’s return would mean.
She stared at the door to Bea’s cell. They had taped a picture of Bea to it, surrounding it with all of the little pencil-drawn flowers the women had presented to them.
It was a shrine.
Without Bea, Maxine knew, the Freak’s return was inevitable. They were like two sides of some ridiculous power struggle.
Only the struggle was gone, now, because Bea was gone.
Maxine gently traced one of the paper roses. She knew that it was only a matter of time before they would be forced to take them all down. Anything taped to cell doors was a violation. All of these little paper flowers would be tossed, discarded as rubbish.
And then Bea would truly disappear, like so many had disappeared before, leaving no tangible evidence that she had ever been there.
As would Maxine, in all probability.
Only the Freak would remain.
An arrow of anger pierced the numbness that had been surrounding her. Inside, Maxine grasped it, pulling it toward herself, embracing it. She would not allow the Freak to remain while Bea was dead.
Silently holding tight to her anger, she joined the others. She lifted her eyes to the television, fighting the lethargy, the numbness that had surrounded her, to concentrate on the screen.
It was time to focus on the Freak.
***
Vera Bennett clicked the livestream link to Joan’s interview. She wasn’t curled up on her comfy couch at home, with Jake; instead, she was alone in the darkened Governor’s office, the only light coming from the computer screen in front of her.
Jake had wanted to watch the interview together. He had talked about it all day, incessantly, as if it were some kind of ridiculous football match and he was a little kid excitedly announcing the stats of his favourite players. He kept going on and on about what he thought Joan would do and say, whether or not the Board would suddenly demote Vera and promote Joan. When, in a tantrum made up of equal parts anger and exasperation, she yelled that if she were demoted, he would be, too, she was shocked to notice a smug smile spread across his face. It existed only for the briefest second before he adjusted his expression, but Vera was sure she had seen it: he wasn’t worried about his own demotion.
Jake wanted Joan to be governor.
She had no idea what to make of that.
She had thus spent the last several hours contemplating reasons for his strange smile, and had come to the conclusion that it was simply one of those weird opposite expressions that erupt when something shocking happens. Like when you’re told that someone has died, and you laugh—not because you’re happy that they died, or think it’s funny, but because your body just can’t process the correct emotional response.
So that was it. Shock. She had shocked Jake with her correct assessment of the reality of the situation, and that shock had come across as a smile because he couldn’t yet process everything.
The explanation made sense, and it was what she chose to believe.
Even so, she found herself making excuses not to be with him tonight. She wanted—needed—to watch Joan’s interview alone.
Thus she found herself unknowingly in the same position as all of the inmates under her charge, all locked within the walls of Wentworth, each focusing on the screen in front of them.
There finally appeared two dark eyes, staring straight into the camera, straight into her audience. Long fingers rose to gracefully push locks of lustrous dark hair into place.
Vera felt suddenly as if she might vomit.
Joan Ferguson smiled at them all.