Purgatory Read online

  ‘He’s even more irresistible than me,’ chips in Jimmy.

  ‘Do I sense a good story for the diary?’ I ask tentatively.

  ‘Half a dozen,’ says Darren, ‘but not tonight because we’re just about to be banged up.’ He can’t hide his pleasure at the thought of keeping me waiting for another few hours.

  8.00 pm

  Once I’m banged up, I start making extensive notes for my phone call to Alison, who returns from New Zealand tomorrow. I then turn to Hamlet. I am resolved to read, or reread, the entire works of Shakespeare - thirty-seven plays - by the time they transfer me to an open prison. If I succeed, I’ll move on to the Sonnets.

  After a couple of acts, I switch on the TV to watch the unforgettable John Le Mesurier in Dad’s Army. What a distinguished career he had, making a virtue of letting other people take centre stage. Not something I’ve ever been good at.

  DAY 54 - MONDAY 10 SEPTEMBER 2001

  5.51 am

  Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…

  Tomorrow, I will need to book a call at seven in the evening with my son James, to find out if the emerald has arrived. I can’t contact him today because on Monday we’re banged up at five-thirty, and he’ll still be at work in the City.

  Tomorrow… Macho Malcolm leaves for his D-cat prison, and neither Darren nor Jimmy are willing to breathe a word about his sex life until he’s off the premises. However, I can report that the woman officer who was spotted outside Malcolm’s window was today seen walking down the corridor with him towards his cell. But this is the stuff of rumours; tomorrow I will be able to give you the facts as reported by Darren and Jimmy. However, Darren did let slip that three women were involved. He knows only too well such a hint will keep me intrigued for another night.

  Tomorrow…

  As for today, I rise a few minutes before six and write for two hours.

  9.00 am

  Pottery. I take a grapefruit into art class, and an empty jar of marmalade for Keith (kidnapping) as part of another still life he’s drawing for his A level course. Keith didn’t even take up painting until he was sent to prison. When he comes up for parole in six months’ time, he will leave, at the age of forty-six, with an A level. Much credit must go to Anne and Paul, who are every bit as proud of this achievement as Keith himself.

  Keith tells me how sorry he was to read about my mother’s death, and goes on to say that he was in prison when his wife died of breast cancer at the age of thirty-nine. He then adds the poignant comment, ‘I shall not mourn her death until after I’ve been released.’

  Shaun (forgery, artist) confirms that he’s given up on Dale, and will now concentrate on Jules, Steve and Jimmy. We discuss how he’ll deal with the arrival on Wednesday of his cache of special drawing paper, oils, chalks and pencils without the other prisoners becoming aware of what I’m up to. We don’t want to get our smuggler into any trouble, and we certainly don’t need any other inmates to feel envious.

  Envy is even more prevalent in prisons than it is in the outside world, partly because all emotions are heightened in such a hot-house atmosphere, and partly because any little privilege afforded to one, however slight, seems so unfair to others who are not treated in the same way.

  I spend the remainder of the class reading a book on the lives of the two great female Impressionists, Marie Laurencin and Berthe Morisot.

  2.00 pm

  Gym. Once again I complete my programme in the allocated hour. Just to give you an update on my progress, when I first arrived at Wayland four weeks ago, I managed 1,800 metres on the rowing machine, and today I passed 2,200 for the first time. When, and if, I ever get to a D-cat establishment, I can only hope they have a well-equipped gym.

  3.42 pm

  Mr Chapman unlocks my cell door to let me know that Mr Carlton-Boyce wants to see me.

  Mr Carlton-Boyce, who seems to be the governor on my case, tells me that he can do nothing about the reinstatement of my D-cat until the police confirm that they will not be going ahead with any enquiry concerning the Simple Truth appeal.

  ‘However,’ he adds, ‘once that confirmation comes through, we will transfer you to an open prison as quickly as possible. I am still receiving a pile of letters from the public every day,’ he adds, ‘but they just don’t understand that my hands are tied.’ I accept this, but point out that it’s been six weeks, and the police haven’t even interviewed me. He nods, and then asks me if I have any other problems. I say no, although I have a feeling he’s referring to Ellis and the gym incident.

  5.30 pm

  I call Alison. I make an appointment to speak to Jonathan Lloyd, my agent, at five tomorrow and my son James at seven. I have to book ‘time calls’ because, as you will recall, no one can phone

  5.45 pm

  Banged up for another fourteen hours, so once I’ve gone over my script, I turn to my letters, one of which is from a journalist.

  How flattering the press can be when they want something.

  9.00 pm

  I watch David Starkey present the first of an engrossing four-part series on the six wives of Henry VIII. I had no idea that Catherine of Aragon had been made regent and conducted a war against the Scots (Flodden 1513) while Henry was away fighting his own battles in France, or that they were married for over thirty years, and of course would have remained together until death if she had only produced a son. More please, Dr Starkey. I can’t wait to learn about Anne Boleyn next week; even I know that she was the mother of Elizabeth I, but not a lot more.

  10.00 pm

  The lead story on the news is that John Prescott’s retaliatory punch during the election campaign is to be referred to the CPS. Over the past few weeks several inmates have pointed out that they are serving sentences from six months to three years for punching someone after they had been attacked, so they’re looking forward to the deputy prime minister joining us. I have little doubt that the CPS will sweep the whole incident under the carpet, I say when I raise the subject with Darren. They didn’t in your case,’ he remarks.

  True, but it won’t go unnoticed by the public that we can expect two levels of justice in Britain as long as New Labour are in power. I just can’t see Mr Prescott arriving at Belmarsh in two sweatboxes. Perhaps I do the CPS an injustice. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…

  DAY 55 - TUESDAY 11 SEPTEMBER 2001

  5.39 am

  I suspect that Tuesday September 11th 2001 will be etched on the memories of everyone in the free world as among the blackest days in history. But I shall still report it as it unfolded for me, in time sequence, although aware that my earlier reportage may appear frivolous.

  9.40 am

  Pottery is cancelled because Anne’s car has broken down, so all the prisoners in the art class have to return to their cells (the first irony). Back on A block, everyone on my spur is shaking hands with Malcolm, who is about to be transferred to a D-cat. He comes to my cell to say farewell, and hopes that I will be joining him soon, as he knows Spring Hill is also my first choice.

  ‘When are Group 4 collecting you?’ I ask.

  They aren’t,’ he replies. ‘Now I’m in a D-cat and past my FLED, I can drive myself over to Aylesbury, and as long as I’ve checked in by three this afternoon, no one will give a damn.’

  No sooner has Malcolm left the wing, than Jimmy slips into my cell. ‘I’m ready to talk now,’ he says.

  Jimmy and Malcolm are both D-cats (Jimmy remains at Wayland because his home is nearby) and are the only two inmates at Wayland allowed to work outside the prison walls every day. Both of them have a job maintaining the grounds beyond the perimeter fence during the week, and at an animal sanctuary on Saturday mornings. The sanctuary is a voluntary project, which concentrates on helping animals in distress. The work ranges from assisting lame beasts to walk or birds to fly, to having to bury them when they die.

  Every Saturday morning at the sanctuary, Jimmy and Malcolm join several volunteers from the local village. Among them one lady who has left