Isla
September 2005
They take Brock to Guys Marsh, a bleak red-block prison close to Shaftesbury. It is with a substantial inclination that I stroll into that flat space, a feeling of skepticism, as though I have gone to some unacceptable spot. I give my name to the lady at gathering and proceed to sit on the hard plastic seat she shows for me. Yet, minutes after the fact, she gets back to me to the little window and reveals that Mr Callie William isn't seeing guests.
'However, I'm his auntie,' I clarify – not yet understanding that who I have no importance by any means. 'Isla Andrews? I'm his closest relative.'
'I'm worried he's not seeing anybody by any means, Ms Andrews. The message I have here is for you not to return once more. I'm heartbroken.'
My breath hitches. 'Not
