Vera Bennett sat at the bar nursing her drink. It was her second and the confidence she had hoped it would give her was yet to kick in. She wondered if it ever would. Looking around she wondered as well if she had made a big mistake coming out at all.

By coming out, she only meant to this bar. She was yet to tell the people around her that she was gay. It had taken her long enough to admit this to herself. She had no family so it was really only her work colleagues and the inmates that she dealt with. As her subordinates, her sex life was certainly nothing to do with that lot.

She had chosen a bar far enough away from Barnhurst to avoid detection. She was sure that no one would know her here. Since arriving, she had seen one or two women that she might like to know better. She was still getting to know what her type was. She liked strong, boyish women but everyone with potential was already with someone. They all seemed to be laughing at some private joke in here. This was a feeling that was not new to Vera. All her life she seemed to be missing the punchline. She was often worried that the punchline was her. Why were people so hard to read and when would she ever just fit in?

She decided that she would leave after this drink. She would go back home and get some sleep before work tomorrow. Coming here had been a stupid idea. She gave herself no credit for the bravery of making the move. Her harsh self-criticism felt like her mum was still with her, whispering her disappointment in her ear. Downing the last bit in the glass, Vera was ready to head back when she heard a familiar laugh in amongst the background babble of voices. It had a sneery, mocking tone to it that took her back five years, when she was still an officer at Wentworth.

She scanned the room in a panic, looking for the owner of that laugh. She should be easy enough to spot.  Seeing no one, she picked out the quickest route to the door and didn’t stop walking until she was outside, relief hitting her at the same time as the cool air.