A Prisoner of Birth Read online

  ‘Hello, Spencer,’ she said. Craig bent down to kiss her on both cheeks. ‘Gibson,’ said Sarah, ‘this is Spencer Craig, an old friend of Larry’s from university days. Spencer, this is Gibson Graham, Larry’s agent.’

  ‘You invested in the show, didn’t you?’ said Gibson.

  ‘A modest amount,’ admitted Craig.

  ‘I never thought of you as an angel,’ said Sarah.

  ‘I’ve always backed Larry,’ said Craig, ‘but then I never doubted he was going to be a star.’

  ‘You’ve become something of a star yourself,’ said Sarah with a smile.

  ‘Then I’m bound to ask,’ said Craig, ‘if you feel that way, why you never brief me?’

  ‘I don’t deal with criminals.’

  ‘I hope that won’t stop you having dinner with me some time, because I’d like—’

  ‘The first editions of the papers have arrived,’ interrupted Gibson. ‘Excuse me while I find out if we’ve got a hit, or just a winner.’

  Gibson Graham made his way quickly across the ballroom, barging anyone aside who was foolish enough to stand in his path. He grabbed a copy of the Daily Telegraph and turned to the review section. He smiled when he saw the headline: Oscar Wilde is still at home in the West End. But the smile turned to a frown by the time he reached the second paragraph:

  Lawrence Davenport gave us his usual stock performance, this time as Jack, but it didn’t seem to matter as the audience was littered with Dr Beresford fans. In contrast, Eve Best, playing Gwendolen Fairfax, sparkled from her first entrance . . .

  Gibson looked across at Davenport, pleased to see that he was deep in conversation with a young actor who had been resting for some time.

  31

  BY THE TIME they reached his cell, the damage had been done. The table had been smashed to pieces, the mattresses torn apart, the sheets ripped to shreds and the little steel mirror wrenched from the wall. As Mr Hagen heaved open the door, he found Danny trying to pull the washbasin from its stand. Three officers came charging towards him, and he took a swing at Hagen. If the punch had landed it would have felled a middleweight champion, but Hagen ducked just in time. The second officer grabbed Danny’s arm, while the third kicked him sharply in the back of the knee, which gave Hagen enough time to recover and cuff his arms and legs while his colleagues held him down.

  They dragged him out of his cell and bounced him down the iron staircase, keeping him on the move until they reached the purple corridor that led to the segregation unit. They came to a numberless cell. Hagen opened the door and the other two threw him in.

  Danny lay still on the cold stone floor for some considerable time. Had there been a mirror in the cell, he would have been able to admire his black eye and the patchwork quilt of bruises that was woven across his body. He didn’t care; you don’t, when you’ve lost hope and have another twenty years to think about it.

  ‘My name is Malcolm Hurst,’ said the representative from the Parole Board. ‘Please have a seat, Mr Moncrieff.’

  Hurst had given some thought to how he should address the prisoner. ‘You have applied for parole, Mr Moncrieff,’ he began, ‘and it is my responsibility to write a report for the board’s consideration. Of course I have read your case history, which gives a full account of how you have conducted yourself while you’ve been in prison, and your wing officer, Mr Pascoe, has described your behaviour as exemplary.’ Nick remained silent.

  ‘I have also noted that you are an enhanced prisoner, who works in the library as well as assisting the prison teaching staff in both English and History. You seem to have had remarkable success with some of your fellow prisoners, who have gone on to be awarded GCSEs, and one in particular, who is currently preparing to take three A levels.’

  Nick nodded sadly. Pascoe had tipped him off that Danny had lost his appeal and was on his way back from the Old Bailey. He had wanted to be waiting in the cell when Danny arrived, but unfortunately the Parole Board had scheduled the interview some weeks ago.

  Nick had already resolved to be in touch with Alex Redmayne as soon as he was released, and to offer to assist in any way possible. He couldn’t understand why the judge hadn’t allowed the tape to be played. No doubt Danny would tell him the reason once he returned to his cell. He tried to concentrate on what the representative from the Parole Board was saying.

  ‘I see that during your time in prison, Mr Moncrieff, you have taken an Open University degree in English, gaining a two-two.’ Nick nodded. ‘While your record in prison is highly commendable, I’m sure you’ll understand that I still have to ask you some questions before I can complete my report.’

  Nick had already taken advice from Pascoe on what those questions might be. ‘Of course,’ he replied.

  ‘You were convicted by an army board of being reckless and negligent during the course of duty, to which you pleaded guilty. The board stripped you of your commission, and sentenced you to eight years in prison. Is that a fair assessment?’

  ‘Yes it is, Mr Hurst.’

  Hurst placed a tick in the first box. ‘Your platoon was guarding a group of Serbian prisoners when a band of Albanian militia drove up to the compound firing their Kalashnikovs in the air.’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘Your staff sergeant retaliated.’

  ‘Warning shots,’ said Nick, ‘after I had given the insurgents a clear order to stop firing.’

  ‘But two United Nations observers who witnessed the whole incident gave evidence at your trial suggesting that the Albanians were only firing their guns in the air at the time.’ Nick made no attempt to defend himself. ‘And although you did not fire a shot yourself, you were the watch commander on that occasion.’

  ‘I was.’

  ‘And you accept that your sentence was just.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Hurst made a further note before asking, ‘And were the board to recommend that you should be released having served only half of your sentence, what plans do you have for the immediate future?’

  ‘I intend to return to Scotland, where I would take up a teaching post in any school that will employ me.’

  Hurst put another tick in another box before moving on to his next question. ‘Do you have any financial problems that might prevent you taking up a teaching post?’

  ‘No,’ said Nick, ‘on the contrary. My grandfather has left me sufficiently well off to ensure that I need not work again.’

  Hurst ticked another box. ‘Are you married, Mr Moncrieff ?’

  ‘No,’ said Nick.

  ‘Do you have any children, or other dependants?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you currently on any medication?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If you were to be released, do you have a home to go to?’

  ‘Yes, I have a house in London and another in Scotland.’

  ‘Do you have any family to assist you were you to be released?’

  ‘No,’ said Nick. Hurst looked up; this was the first box not to be ticked. ‘Both my parents are dead, and I have no brothers or sisters.’

  ‘Aunts or uncles?’

  ‘One uncle and aunt who live in Scotland, whom I have never been close to, and another aunt on my mother’s side, who lives in Canada, and whom I have corresponded with but never met.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Hurst. ‘One final question, Mr Moncrieff. It may seem a little strange given your circumstances, but nevertheless I have to ask it. Can you think of any reason why you might consider committing the same crime again?’

  ‘As I am unable to resume my career in the army, and indeed have no desire to do so, the answer to your question has to be no.’

  ‘I fully understand,’ said Hurst, placing a tick in the last box. ‘Finally, do you have any questions for me?’

  ‘Only to ask when I’ll be informed of the board’s decision.’

  ‘It will take me a few days to write my report before I submit it to the board,’ said Hurst, ‘but once they’v