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MARCHING POWDER

even jobs for the men? And if she gets a job, how can she afford to pay rent, look after the kids and support her husband in prison at the same time?'

'But surely there's some way? Can't the government help?'

'Don't be so stupid, inglés.' He turned to me in irritation. 'We're not in Europe. There is no social security. If you don't have money in this country, you starve to death. I thought you would have worked that out by now.'

'And the kids live in here, too?' I asked.

Ricardo nodded.

'But... don't you think ...?' I was about to say that I thought it was unfair that children should have to grow up in a prison. The women I could sort of accept; at least they had a choice. But the kids hadn't done anything wrong. Ricardo interrupted me.

'I know what you're going to say, inglés. Just trust me. It's sad. But it's better this way.'

'But... I mean...'

'Just drop it, will you?' Ricardo's voice rose slightly and he snatched up the brush again. I could see he didn't want to talk about it. But I had to know.

'But isn't it dangerous?' I asked softly.

He thought for a minute. 'Sometimes.'

'What about rapists and child molesters?'

'There are no rapists or child molesters in here. They're not allowed.'

'What do you mean, "They're not allowed"?'

Ricardo looked at me sideways in the mirror and opened his mouth as if he was about to say something. Then he changed his mind. 'I'll tell you about that later. Right now, you've got more important things to worry about.'

'But - '

'Just drop it, I told you!' Ricardo snapped, slamming his brush on the bedside table and storming into the kitchen. It was the first time he had raised his voice with me since I had been staying with him and I didn't want to push him any further. I let the subject drop.

At first, Ricardo was like my mentor in prison, but he very quickly became my best friend. I'm sure that part of it was the situation I was