A Prison Diary Purgatory (2003) Read online

  ‘I’d better call my son,’ I say, aware the ball is back in my court. ‘Any units left on my phonecard?’ I ask, returning to the real world.

  3.17 pm

  I call James on his mobile and ask where he is.

  ‘In the car, Dad, but I’ll be back at the flat in about fifteen minutes.’ I put the phone down. Three units gone - mobiles gobble units. I return to my cell to tell Sergio I won’t know if James has received the fax for another fifteen minutes. This gives Sergio enough time to repeat the highlights of his earlier triumph not unlike replays of Owen’s hat-trick against Germany.

  3.35 pm

  I call Jamie at the flat and ask him if he’s received the fax.

  ‘Yes’ he replies, ‘it arrived forty minutes ago.’

  ‘And does it give you all the details you need?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replies.

  I put the phone down. Sergio leaves me as he has to report for his job behind the hotplate. Although he too has to return to the real world, that grin just doesn’t leave his face.

  4.30 pm

  Exercise. Darren and I are joined by Jason (conspiracy to blackmail) on our afternoon power walk. We pass Shaun who is sketching Jules, with whom I shared a cell for the first two weeks. He’s now finished Darren and Dale and once he’s completed Jules, he’ll only have Jimmy to do, so he should have a full house by the end of the week.

  ‘Why do I have this feeling,’ asks Darren, ‘that you consider the Prison Service has only one purpose, and that is to cater for your every need?’

  ‘That’s neither accurate nor fair,’ I protest. ‘I’ve tried to organize my entire life around the schedule the Prison Service demands. It makes it twice as difficult to carry out my usual routines, but it has put another perspective on the unforgiving minute.’

  ‘I wish I could work the system,’ says Jason. ‘They had me in for an MDT (mandatory drugs test) this afternoon, a la Ann Widdecombe.’

  ‘Will it prove positive?’ I ask.

  ‘No chance, I’m in the clear. What a nerve,’ he adds, ‘suggesting that it was ‘on the grounds of reasonable suspicion’.’

  ‘Knowing your past record,’ says Darren - well aware that Jason occasionally dabbles in heroin - ‘how can you be so confident you’re in the clear?’

  ‘Simple,’ Jason replies. ‘For the past three days I’ve been drinking more water than Jeffrey, I must have been up peeing at least seven times every night.’

  5.40 pm

  We’re banged up for fourteen hours. After I’ve checked over the day’s script, I turn to my letters. I am particularly touched by a missive from Gillian Shephard. She describes herself as ‘your temporary MP’. She offers her support and goes on to point out that, ‘No one can suggest I’m after your vote. After all, members of the House of Lords, convicted prisoners and lunatics are not entitled to a vote.’ She concludes, There’s only one category left for you to fulfil, Jeffrey.’

  10.00 pm

  I climb into bed and start to think about an aeroplane that’s already halfway across the Atlantic on its way to Heathrow. In its massive hold there is a tiny package, no larger than an Oxo cube, and inside a tiny emerald that will either be on its way back to Bogota in a few days’ time, or hanging on my family’s Christmas tree come December.

  DAY 53 - SUNDAY 9 SEPTEMBER 2001

  5.39 am

  The strangest thing happened last night, and I’m going to have to follow it up today. However, in order for you to be able to understand its significance, I’ll first have to explain the layout of the enhanced spur on A block. The spur is L-shaped, with fourteen cells on each sprig. If I look out of the window to my left, I can see about five of the windows on the adjoining sprig.

  Around eight yesterday evening, just after I’d finished writing for the day, I rose from my desk to draw the curtains, when I noticed a woman officer of about twenty-five years of age (I’d better not describe her in detail) chatting to a prisoner through his window. I wouldn’t have given it a second thought - if she hadn’t still been there an hour later… now I’m unable to tell you any more at the moment, because I was banged up at five forty last night, and will not be let out until eight fifteen this morning. I shall then approach the oracle of all knowledge, Darren, and report back to you tomorrow. I have a feeling he’ll know both the officer and the prisoner and - more importantly - be able to throw some light on their relationship.

  Jimmy, Carl, Jules, Shane and I go across to the changing rooms for the football match against Lakenheath. After last Sunday’s victory, and two good training sessions during the week, the team are buoyed up and ready for the encounter.

  In my role as match reporter, I look around the benches and check to make sure I know the names of every team member. The players are becoming quite nervous, and start jumping up and down on the spot as they wait for the arrival of our coach to deliver his pep talk. Kevin Lloyd appears a few moments later, a look of despondency on his face.

  ‘I’m sorry, lads’ he says, ‘but the game’s off.’ A voluble groan goes round the changing room. Two of the opposition’ Kevin continues, ‘failed to bring any form of ID with them, so we couldn’t let them through the gates. I would have accepted credit cards, but they couldn’t even supply those. I am sorry,’ Kevin repeats, and there’s no doubt he’s as disappointed as we are.

  While the others go off for a further training session, I have to return to my cell.

  11.00 am

  I call Mary, who brings me up to date on the reinstatement of my D-cat. ‘KPMG’s report is progressing slowly,’ she tells me, ‘and the police haven’t even decided if they want to interview you.’ Although the whole exercise is taking longer than she had anticipated, Mary says there is no reason to believe that they will find Ms Nicholson’s accusations anything other than spurious.

  I suggest that she goes ahead with the Christmas parties that we always hold in December and let Will and James act as co-hosts. I tell her to invite everyone who has stood firm and ignore the fair-weather friends (who have in fact turned out to be very small in number). I add that if I’m in a D-cat open prison by Christmas, I’ll call up in the middle of the party and deliver a festive message over the intercom.

  4.30 pm

  I’m just about to leave for exercise when the spur officer tells me I’m required urgently in the SO’s office. The word ‘urgently’ surprises me, as I haven’t heard it used for the past seven weeks.

  I join Mr King in his office, and am introduced to a female officer I’ve never seen before. Am I at last to meet the governor? No. The officer’s name is Sue Maiden and she explains that she’s part of the prison’s security team. She then tells me that it has been reported to her that Ellis, who resides on B block, was abusive to me in the gym yesterday. I repeat exactly what took place. She then asks me if I want special protection.

  ‘Certainly not,’ I reply. ‘That’s the last thing I need.’ She looks relieved.

  ‘I had to ask,’ she explains.

  That’s all I need,’ I repeat. ‘You only have to read the story in the Sunday Mirror this morning about phonecards to see what the press would make of that.’

  ‘Understood, but we’ll still have to speak to Ellis.’

  ‘Fine, but not at my request’ I make clear. She seems to accept this proviso, and I depart to find the barred gate that leads out on to the exercise yard has already been bolted, leaving me locked inside and unable to take my daily walk around the yard.

  5.00 pm

  I spend the forty minutes with Sergio in his cell. He tells me that there is only one recognized carrier willing to fly in and out of Bogota, and then only on a Thursday, Saturday and Sunday. Sergio mentions that it’s not easy to attract holidaymakers to a country where there are forty murders a day in the capital alone. He uses the rest of exercise time to give me a geography lesson. I am shown in Darren’s Times atlas (he’s playing backgammon) where the emerald mountains are situated, as well as the extensive oil fields in the vall