Discovered in a Christmas stocking - 2 January (part two)

Doyle stepped carefully over a large frozen puddle and peered through the ruined brick doorway in front of him.  The stone walls of the old prison stretched out high above, smooth chunks of grey plaster still clinging in patches to their surface.  He looked up at the endless columns of blank cells lining the steep walls, open doors floating within the skeleton of the crumbling building.

Bodmin Jail – ironically now open to the public for 365 days a year.  Doyle pushed open the iron gate and stepped into the cold shell of the prison. 

Trust Bodie to want to visit a place like this, and on Boxing Day of all days.  Doyle tugged his gloves on, clapping his hands together to try to restore some of the circulation to his fingers.  They should have spent today tucked up inside their holiday cottage, where it was at least moderately warm, sleeping off yesterday’s Christmas dinner and arguing about what rubbish to watch on the telly.  But oh no, Bodie had to insist on trying out his new Christmas present, despite Doyle’s heartfelt protests.  He folded his arms and let out a puff of breath that turned to frost in the cold air.  Bloody Boxing Day, and here he was freezing his arse off at the bleakest tourist attraction he’d ever been to in his entire life. 

He wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck and walked over to look at one of decayed cells on the ground floor.  Inside, a single iron bed frame stood against the whitewashed wall.  He looked at the barred window high up in the cell, letting in a small beam of cold winter sunlight.

There was no doubt about it, it was just about the most depressing place he’d ever seen. 

Doyle turned his back on the cell and crunched over the frozen earth towards Bodie, who was trying to lean over the Danger – No Entry sign blocking off the more decayed end of the building.  There was a flash of light and Bodie stepped back from the scaffolding, inspecting the picture he’d taken and grinning down at Doyle.

“Hey, this camera’s great, much better than the old one.”  He made his way along the ruined corridor, flicking through the pictures on the screen with a look of concentration.  “I got some good ones over at the execution shed, and these cells are creepy as hell.”  He grinned as he approached Doyle, letting the bulky camera hang loose around his neck and shoving his glasses further back up his nose.

Doyle rolled his eyes and looked again at the endless cells lined up along the central passageway behind Bodie.  Creepy was an understatement.  He winced as Bodie aimed the camera at him, lifting his middle finger towards the photographer as the flash went off. 

He should never have bought him the bloody thing. 

Bodie chuckled and moved to stand next to Doyle, their shoulders nudging as they both gazed at the far end of the building where the rough stone walls disappeared into the sky.  Doyle shuffled closer, welcoming the extra warmth. 

“It’s all a bit grim, though, isn’t it?  Public hangings, children being flogged.  Treadmills, transportation, thirty years hard labour and all the rest of it...”  Doyle nodded towards the rusted chains still hanging from the cell doorways.  “All that’s missing is the rack and thumbscrews.”

Bodie snorted.  “Ah, they’ll be in storage at the old CI5 offices.  Out of use since the old man retired, of course.”

Doyle raised an eyebrow.  “Roses and lavender, and all that?  Yeah, I reckon Cowley would have approved of a place like this.  Protect the public, punish the bad guys.  I guess CI5 wasn’t much different in its day.”  Doyle looked across at Bodie.  “You’ve got to admit we did some pretty dodgy things in our time for the sake of law and order.  Folks today would be up in arms if they really knew how it all worked back then.”  He nodded his chin towards the crumbling jail cells.  “They’d think we were no more advanced than this…”

Bodie shifted next to him, shoving his hands into his coat pocket.  “That was thirty years ago, Ray.  Things change.  We did good, you know.  We did the best we could.  You can’t ask for much more than that.”

Doyle kicked at the frozen earth.  “It still makes us both dinosaurs.  Relics from the past, just like this place.”

Bodie wrapped a tight arm around Doyle’s neck, pulling him closer so that his breath was warm and moist against Doyle’s face.  “Yes we are, and I’m bloody grateful for it.  We’re still here, Ray.  Don’t expect anything more than that.”  He paused, brushing his lips against Doyle’s cheek.  “And anyway, who are you calling a dinosaur?”

Doyle closed his eyes, burying his head in Bodie’s neck, chuckling into the warmth there.  Still here, after all these years. 

He tugged at Bodie coat, pulling him backwards into the darkness of the nearest jail cell.  “Come on then, old man.  Let’s see if we can break a few ancient laws of our own…”

Title:  Bodmin Jail

Author:  Foxcat

Bodie/Doyle
Archive at Proslib:  Yep
I don't own them, this is all done just for fun