The Curious Incidents at Grand Show Place Cinema

Chapter 7

Candace was pushed backward into a stone wall with Caritas on top of her. There was a pungent odor of urine, feces, and strong body odor in the air, and the room was dark and dank. Another woman cried out as Caritas and Candace rolled over her. Candace quickly blocked punches from Caritas and thrust her hips up to push Caritas and roll her off. Candace then grabbed an arm and locked it in a hammer hold as she pushed Caritas's face into the cold stone floor.

"I will break your arm if you don't stop," Canadas told Caritas.

"Ha, go ahead, you witch. I see you have been preparing since we fought last. Did your warring traitor adulterer teach you the ways of combat?"

"We have never fought before. I have no idea what you are talking about. I am not who you think I am. I don't want to hurt you," Candace pleaded.

As Candace's eyes became accustomed to the dark, she could see several other women around her in the tiny room, their eyes filled with terror. A large rat scurried into a hole in the corner of the stone wall. One wall had several holes waist high, not quite big enough to get a fist through, and a narrow iron door below that had 16 small openings in the top.

"Your precious traitor murdered my nephew when he tried to defend the Queen's honour from the King's treachery," Caritas hissed.

"There is no King or Queen in Canada, so how could I have anything to do with your nephew?" Candace replied.

"King Harry will be happy to hear you say that and hang you like a common thief, just as quick as he took my nephew's head with the executioner's axe," Caritas's voice getting shrill.

"They must be witches from the new world," One of the other women in the dark loudly whispered.

"Yes," the others murmured.

Candace became more aware of her surroundings, which seemed real but had a dream-like quality. She was sure she was dreaming or, at best, hallucinating. She kept a firm grip on Caritas just to be safe.

"There is no such thing as witches," Candace pointed out to the other women.

The other women collectively gasped.

"Heretic, you'll be burned at the stake," One of the women said in a low, raspy voice.

There were clacking footsteps as a jailer approached the cell carrying a metal pole with a blunted point and a large candle in a metal frame. He peered inside the room.

"Knock it off, you two, lest I come in there and teach you both a good lesson," He pushed the metal pole through one of the holes and jabbed at Candace. She quickly let go of Caritas and retreated to the corner of the room out of reach of the pole.

"A smart woman. I will be back to make sure you are getting along. Sleep tight, and don't let the rats bite," The jailer sneered.

Candace did not sleep much. She nodded off for a few minutes at a time but always awoke abruptly, expecting Caritas to be on the attack. Caritas and the other women dozed off for a few hours.

A dim light flooded the cell as daylight fully embraced the day.

"Judging from their dress, I think they may be royalty from the new world," One of the women whispered.

The bright orange jumpsuit that Candace was wearing and the long white and black hooded dress that Caritas wore were now clearly visible in the dim light.

"Rise and shine, ladies. I wouldn't want any of you to soil my spotless guest rooms," The jailer mocked.

The other women in their dull gray dresses filed by the jailer to make their way to the latrines.

"Who are you two? How did you get in past me in the night?" The jailer asked Candace and Caritas.

"She is a witch that brought me here with a spell," Caritas howled.

"What is this strange orange attire that you wear? Is what she says true?" The jailer asked Candace.

"No, I am not a witch. She attacked me, and the next thing I knew, I was here. If anyone is a witch, it would be her." Candace was searching her mind for a story for the jail jumpsuit.

"And what of your attire?" The jailer probed.

"I am from Canada," Candace replied, trying to buy time to think of a reason.

"You are from the New World? That explains your strange dialect and immodesty, but you still have not explained how you got in here," The jailer stated.

"She attacked me, and I woke up here. That is all I remember," Candace offered.

The jailer jabbed at Candace and Caritas with the long metal pole.

"I will be watching you two closely. Now get yourself to the latrine before you soil my pristine cell," The jailer snarled.

At the latrine, while she was awaiting her turn, Candace asked one of the women from her cell where she was.

"Old Bailey," The woman looked puzzled.

"Um, What is Old Bailey," Candace asked, feeling sheepish.

"Newgate prison on Old Bailey Street. How do you not know where you are? Did you hit your head when you were fighting?" The woman said.

"I must have," Candace replied.

"Some call it Hell's Gate," A second woman informed her.

"We are here because of our debts, but we fear we may not make it out of here alive," The first woman choked out with tears forming.

"You must be careful of what you say here if you want to live. You could get us all killed," The second woman advised in a barely audible whisper.

Candace nodded, acknowledging the advice, and motioned to zip her lips. The women looked at each other, puzzled, not knowing what the gesture meant.

Candace and the others made their way, led by the jailer, to a central hall to get a meal. One of the prisoners from another group gestured at Candace and, in a loud whisper, called out, "Mary?"