By Eve Hall Published in TRANSITION Volume 4, number 16, 1964 They called her Shiela, because that's what she was, a Sheila, a Johannesburg Moll. She had three different surnames I knew of, Dreyers, the most infamous. She came to the prison with Victor as her alias, and I think she had used van Wyk not long before. She was not quite 19, and very pretty, tall, with short wild blond hair, (the black dye had grown out when I met her), blue eyes, a very snub nose, long firm legs, large perfect breasts and a small waist. She slouched badly and it was her pride that she had, in the seven months she had been there, worn out three pairs of the prison's shoes. She had tatoos on both her arms and an ornate Micky Mouse on one large thigh. When I was first hustled into the communal eating room, harassed by the very thorough search given to political prisoners, naked under my striped dressing gown, staggering under a load of blankets, sheets, uniforms, I hardly saw the women sitt...