Heller's Regret (3 page)

“I hate this place,” I whispered, staring
down at my fingers twisting together.

“So do I,” she whispered back, her hand over
her mouth and looking away as though she wasn’t talking to me.

That made me look at her,
really
look
at her. “Why are you even here? You don’t need it.”

“You don’t either.” She heaved a sigh and
leaned her chin on her palm. “I was married twenty-seven years to a
doctor. I was a nurse for a long time. We met at the hospital we
both worked at.” She looked away, but I could see the moisture in
her eyes as she blinked repeatedly. “One day he moved out, telling
me it was over. Just like that. He was ‘in love’ with his
twenty-year-old receptionist, and he wasn’t attracted to me
anymore.”

“Are you kidding? He’s crazy. You’re
beautiful.”

She smiled at me and touched my cheek gently.
“You’re very sweet, but that’s life, I guess.”

“Did you enrol yourself in this
hellhole?”

“Money’s a bit tight for me at the moment
until the settlement is finalised. This was the cheapest place I
could find. I can see why now.” She shrugged with appealing
self-deprecation. “I thought that maybe it might help me find a new
partner.”

I shook my head. “Oh, boy. I don’t think that
was a good decision.”

She sighed. “Neither do I. They seem too
disciplinarian in here for me.”

“Me too. I’m not just going to be biting my
tongue, I’m going to be chewing it off.”

She laughed and looked at her expensive
watch. “I’m dead on my feet and it’s barely eleven o’clock in the
morning. It’s only a matter of time before they make us change into
those horrible tracksuits and give up all our worldly
possessions.”

“I’m not too sorry about changing. I’m a bit
rank in these sweaty clothes.”

Her nose crinkled. “I didn’t want to say
anything, but that is true.” She sighed again. “I’m going to miss
my phone. And my moisturiser.”

“What is this, ladies? High tea at The Ritz?”
shouted the Assistant at us from the doorway. Despite being
exhausted, we both jumped to our feet. “Everyone else is out on the
Field waiting for you. Five laps each for letting down your
bunker-mates, then change into your sweats. And if it’s not too
much trouble, perhaps you might deign to join the rest of your
group for some exercise to make some vain attempt to turn you
heifers into sleek mares.”

“I hate that woman so much,” I murmured as we
made our tired way to the Field for more punishment laps.

“Surely not more than I do,” she responded in
an equally muted tone.

We stumbled back to the Bunker afterwards to
change into the much-despised tracksuits, noting that our suitcases
had been whisked away, leaving us with no other clothing
options.

After a day filled with more wretchedness
than could ever be described, and a lunch and dinner that were
minimal to say the least, we were allowed to retire. I
sleep-showered, changed into my pyjamas, sleep-brushed my teeth and
fell onto the stone-like bunk and pillow as though they were a
present from the gods. I didn’t think I even moved one iota until a
horn blasted us awake at five-thirty in the morning.

We all sprang up, alarmed and disoriented,
our pulses racing.

The Assistant stood at the doorway, holding
an enormous book up in her hand. She dumped it on the nearest
woman’s bed. It thudded, making a huge indent.

“These are the Rules for this Camp. I
recommend you read up on them in the fifteen minutes you have
before you must be ready for pre-breakfast exercise.” She lingered
at the door. “I suggest you particularly look up Consequences and
Punishments. See you soon.”

“Can anyone even focus enough right now to
read?” asked a very groggy lady, sprawling against her pillow once
the Assistant left.

“I couldn’t give a shit about their rules,”
said another in a weary voice, and there were enough echoes of that
sentiment to satisfy us all.

I sat on my bed, yawning hugely. “We need to
stick together. Don’t let these arseholes separate and divide us
with their stupid rules.”

“I’m with you,” smiled the doctor’s ex-wife
from across the room. “What’s your name? I don’t want to call you
Chunky, because you’re nowhere even close.”

I smiled at her tiredly. “I think I might
adopt you as a second mum soon if you keep being so nice to me. My
name’s Tilly, and I’m
not
fucking chunky.”

A couple of the ladies applauded me, and then
the others joined in. I was comforted by their reassurance.

The older lady I’d helped yesterday smiled at
me. “Apart from that young lady,” she said, nodding to a very
plain, shy teenager at the far end of the room, who hadn’t said one
word so far and blushed even at the mention of herself, “you’re the
youngest person here. And I think you’re gorgeous. Oh, for your
figure again! And for your self-confidence.”

“Aw, thank you so much. That’s very kind of
you.” I slumped on my bed, staring up at the water-stained,
fire-retardant tiled ceiling. “You know, that’s what we need to do.
We need to support each other to get through this. Let’s not ask
questions or complain to those ‘assistants’. It just leads to more
punishments for all of us. We don’t need that. I don’t know about
you ladies, but I’m supposed to be stuck here for a month. Fuck
that!”

“Dearie,” said the older lady. “I think
you’re gorgeous, but I don’t like your sweary mouth.”

“I’m sorry. My mother wouldn’t either. But
I’m so angry at the moment.”

“So am I,” spoke up the teenager in a soft
voice. We all turned to her in surprise. She blushed more
furiously. “My stepfather hates me. He sent me here. He told me the
sight of me made him sick.” She sat, head down, nervously plucking
at her fingernails.

There was a huge murmuring of support for the
young lady. Mr Doctor’s ex-wife (Ariadne, I learned later) quickly
crossed the room to hug her.

“Don’t listen to him. You are beautiful just
the way you are, darling. Some people are so cruel and judgmental
of others that it virtually robs them of their humanity.”

The young girl, Jessie, looked up at her in
wonder as if that might be the very first time in her life that
anyone had ever given her some encouragement.

“Thank you,” she said so softly, I’m not sure
all heard her.

I jumped to my feet, though I was exhausted.
“Okay, this is what we’re going to do. No matter how much it kills
us, we will be subservient to these fu. . .” I looked over and saw
the disapproving glance of the older lady. I smiled at her. “We
will
be subservient to these not-nice people and we
will
support each other. They said we could, so let’s do it.
If you see someone in Bunker One struggling during a physical
exercise, and you have the capability to help them, then help them
to the end.” I looked around at the other women. “No woman left
behind, right?”

I received another nine “rights!” before I
was satisfied and the Assistant barged her way back into the room.
We’d carefully arranged ourselves around the Rules before the
fifteen minutes expired, pretending to absorb even a part of the
thousand pages in it in the allocated fifteen minutes. We presented
like the Von Trapp family having a musical gather-round. I would
have burst into song if I had any talent or energy and if I thought
the Assistant would tolerate it for a second.

“Oh nice, ladies,” she nodded approvingly at
our close studiousness. Her voice switched to harsh. “Now out to
the Field. Let’s shift some blubber.”

I spoke up very hesitantly. “Excuse me,
ma’am. May we please be allowed to use the bathroom first?” I kept
my eyes lowered to the unread rules the whole time.

She looked at me indulgently, as though I was
her favourite annoyance. “Chunky, you know you’re supposed to call
me Assistant. I don’t know about this ‘ma’am’ business, but I don’t
want you peeing yourself while you’re working out.” Her glance
would have shattered ice. “You have five minutes.”

We sprinted to the bathroom and fought over
the stalls, though at the end of five minutes we were all
relieved.

“I
need
food,” despaired Jill, the
older lady, looking at herself in the mirror. Tears misted her
eyes. “I don’t think I can do any more exercise without it. It’s
inhumane to expect it.”

“I agree, but it’s best for us not to think
about food right now,” I recommended indistinctly, patting her on
the shoulder while brushing my teeth, one of the few hygiene tasks
I could manage in the time we’d been given. I didn’t want to admit
to anyone I’d not only been thinking about food since the previous
night, I’d also dreamt about it. “Let’s all just concentrate on
getting through this session. We’ll help each other where we
can.”

“I hope breakfast is more substantial than
any other meal we’ve had here so far,” said the young girl, Jessie,
leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.

“My muscles are killing me,” complained
Ariadne, rubbing her left calf.

Nobody had a chance to respond because the
Assistant poked her head into the bathroom. “Come on, ladies, I’m
waiting for you. This isn’t a nightclub where you can stand around
for hours gossiping in the bathroom. Get your ugly, flabby
lardarses out to the Field now.”

I eyed her malevolently as I passed, which
made her top lip curl up. “I’m keeping close watch on you, Chunky.
I like your spirit, but I don’t like rebelliousness or
disobedience. I’m going to break you like a twig.”

And that was how the Assistant and I became
such special friends.

Chapter 3

One week slowly passed into two. Our daily
routine didn’t vary. Up at five-thirty, pre-breakfast exercise,
followed by a meagre breakfast. Exercise until a meagre lunch, then
more exercise before a meagre dinner. Bed at seven o’clock. No
matter how tired we were, every three days we had to wash our
tracksuits (and any other clothes, like socks, undies and pyjamas)
in the small laundry room leading off the bathroom.

By the end of the first week, I was ready to
turn cannibal on one of my bunkmates from hunger. When I wasn’t
fantasising about killing Clive and/or the Assistant while I
slogged mindlessly through the torturous exercises, I tried to
decide which of my bunkmates looked tastier, and whether it would
be better to eat them with ranch dressing or a soy sauce and sweet
chilli sauce combination.

Nearing the end of the second week, I’d lost
so much weight and had so little energy that some nights I didn’t
even bother to pull the blanket up over myself. We didn’t chat
anymore at night, but fell into our beds and straight to sleep. By
now, most of us were too tired to cry into our pillows, though I
heard Jessie’s plaintive quiet sobs on occasion.

Apart from Ariadne, who must surely be
regretting her decision every second, all of us in Bunker One had
been sent here involuntarily – some by their partners, one by her
domineering older sister, one by her controlling grandmother. None
had been sent by their work supervisor, which just made me angrier
with Clive. He could have just saved me all this pain by ordering
me a bigger uniform.

Jill confessed ashamedly that her son had
sent her. “Actually it was my daughter-in-law, if I’m honest,”
she’d told us. “We’ve never got on together and I’ve been forced to
live with them for the last twelve months. I don’t know which has
been worst – this place or my year living with her. They’re both
hellholes.”

We’d grown close as a group over the past
fortnight. We’d been kept completely segregated from Bunker Two. It
was only later that I learned there was a second ‘field’ behind the
bunkers. Also located there was another amenity block.

So this cold morning, when Assistant One
tried to goad me in front of everyone, was the first time we’d
joined together. I didn’t know if I was heartened or depressed that
Group B looked as ragged, weary and hungry as we did.

It had been exceedingly unwise of G-F-H to
speak and even more so for me to respond. I should have ignored
her. But now we’d attracted Assistant One’s attention. I didn’t
know if Assistant Two was as sadistic as our little daffodil of
joy, but it didn’t seem earthly possible.

“Going to be like that, are you, Chunky? You
two ladies, who like to chat when the rest of us are here to
exercise, can stay here. The rest of you can give me twenty
laps.”

Great
, I thought. Now the other bunker
was going to hate me.

While the others trotted off obediently, no
matter how unwillingly, under the supervision of Assistant Two, we
stood as still as we could.

“I’m getting a bit tired of you, Chunky. That
spirit of yours should have been crushed like a bug in my hand by
now.” She demonstrated by viciously closing her fingers into a
fist. She paced back and forth. “I’m going to have to move up to
the next level with you.” She eyed off G-F-H. “And you too. From
what Assistant Two tells me, you’re the Chunky of Bunker Two.” She
turned her back on us and strode off, stopping only to look over
her shoulder. “You’re both on half-rations from now on.”

No!
I howled to myself, wanting to
punch something. I was
so
hungry. The previous night, I’d
found myself gnawing on my pillow just to see what it tasted like –
an utterly humiliating moment in my life that I wouldn’t soon
forget.

When she was out of earshot, satisfied in our
craven servility, I tried the ventriloquist trick again in an even
lower voice, no longer caring about anything. “I’ve had enough of
this shithole. I’m busting out.”

“I’ll join you. Hands down, this has been the
worst fortnight in my life,” whispered G-F-H.

Assistant One consulted with Assistant Two
before returning to us, so we had no chance to discuss that
enticing idea any further. I wasn’t sure if G-F-H was serious or
not, but I was. I was escaping from here and taking as many women
with me as possible. If I could manage to get my brain thinking
about anything but food, I’d try to formulate a plan tonight.