Purgatory Read online

  Chris appears with a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich - quite the finest delicacy I’ve eaten for the past seventy days. I’m still not quite sure how he managed it.

  I begin by briefing Chris on Shaun (forgery) and the sketches he’s working on for this diary. As Shaun will be released in three weeks’ time, I’ve asked him to visit Chris at the gallery and present his portfolio. Chris explains that there’s a recognized fee for the reproduction of an artist’s work, but if I want to purchase the originals, he will happily negotiate a fair price.

  We go on to discuss Botero. Chris feels that as the great man has such an international following the chance of picking up a cheap original, even if Sergio does know Botero’s mother, seems unlikely. I accept his judgment, but still feel it’s possible Sergio might surprise us. Chris shrugs his shoulders. When he changes the subject to Tottenham Hotspur, I quickly replace him with Godfrey.

  Godfrey brings me a second cheese and tomato sandwich, not toasted this time.

  Godfrey is a distinguished art critic, academic and a friend of twenty years’ standing. We discuss an important matter concerning Mr Justice Potts and a dinner Godfrey and his wife Ann attended a couple of years ago, when the judge made remarks about me which, if true, I believe should have disqualifed him from presiding over my case. Godfrey needs to check his diaries before he can confirm the exact evening the supper took place, and the reasons why Sir Humphrey made the remarks he did. Godfrey promises to keep Mary informed. Ann Barker serves on the Parole Board, and another member of the Parole Board was also present at the dinner. Thank God for friends who believe in justice.

  The final session spent with all three of them is great fun, not least because Will brings me another cheese and tomato sandwich. I didn’t have lunch, and now I needn’t bother with supper. Godfrey tells me that he believes IDS can win the next election. Chris pours scorn on the idea, and is happy to stake a Mars bar on Blair, who he believes has hardly put a foot wrong since September 11th.

  ‘Let’s see what he looks like in a year’s time,’ counters Godfrey.

  I can only wonder where I’ll be in a year’s time…

  The call for visitors to leave comes all too soon, and I am painfully reminded how much I enjoy the company of old friends.

  When I leave to return to my cell, I am stopped and made to suffer the humiliation of a strip-search. Two junior officers obviously think it will be fun to tell their friends at the pub tonight that they made Lord Archer take all his clothes off. Good heavens, they discover I have a penis just like other inmates. It spoils what had been a better day. However, their pettiness is not typical of the majority of officers at Wayland.

  6.00 pm

  Jimmy is back from four days of home leave - this is allowed for non-parole prisoners who have served a third of their sentence. Jimmy’s sentence was three and a half years, mine four. Mr Justice Potts understood the difference only too well. Jimmy says he can’t wait to get a good night’s sleep. He’s had sex with two women in the past forty-eight hours; one stupid but sexy, the other an undergraduate who likes telling her friends she’s sleeping with a convict. He can’t decide which of them to commit to when he’s released in three weeks’ time. Darren offers him sage advice: If you can’t choose between them, neither can be right.’

  10.00 pm

  For the first time since September 11th the lead story on the Ten O’Clock News does not come from the other side of the Atlantic. It still involves terrorists, but this time the report comes from Northern Ireland. I wonder how long the problems of Osama bin Laden will remain paramount, as one can’t help remembering that Saddam Hussein is still on the loose…

  I switch off the news, and continue my Shakespearean marathon by turning to Richard II.

  DAY 73 - SATURDAY 29 SEPTEMBER 2001

  9.00 am

  Jimmy now wants to escape. He’s due to be released in three weeks’ time, but those four days on the outside have given him a taste for freedom. He has no intention of returning to jail. It was Jimmy’s first offence, and he swears it will be his last. I have come to admire the way the Prison Service, the probation officers and the parole board are able to assess which prisoners are likely to reoffend and which are not. They probably make mistakes, which will guarantee them unflattering headlines wishing they had chosen an easier profession. But let’s at least be thankful someone’s willing to do the job.

  11.30 am

  During exercise Darren tells me about a prisoner who’s been shipped out this morning at short notice. It seems that he was fast becoming the No. 1 drug dealer for the prison, and was happy to exchange his wares - cannabis, cocaine and heroin - for phonecards or tobacco. However, a problem arose because the drug baron on C block was only willing to supply his stock for cash, paid into a private bank account on the outside. Let me remind you how this works. Prisoners will instruct a friend or relative during visits (they consider the phone or letters too risky) to place money into an account of an associate of the prison drug dealer, who then supplies the gear.

  When the drug baron on C block found his customers were moving their business to the new boy on B block because he didn’t require cash, something drastic needed to be done. Yesterday, while his rival was in the gym, he paid two other inmates (cleaners) on B block to torch his cell. Result, the prisoner whose cell was torched was immediately transferred to another gaol. This means that the drug baron on C block is able to continue his evil trade and will be released in a few weeks’ time supported by a healthy bank balance.

  8.00 pm

  There is rarely anything worth watching on TV on a Saturday night, so I finish off Richard II - or to be more accurate, an assassin finishes off the poor fellow. I last saw the play performed at the Barbican with Sam West in the title role. I had been looking forward to his Hamlet at Stratford, but it was not to be.

  DAY 74 - SUNDAY 30 SEPTEMBER 2001

  8.00 am

  I call Mary to be told that the police are dropping their enquiry having not even bothered to interview me. Mary is thinking of writing to Baroness Nicholson and demanding an apology. I tell her it’s a waste of time as Nicholson has neither the grace nor the decency to admit she made a false accusation. Ms Nicholson is a wealthy woman. It would be a noble gesture on her part were she to cover KPMG’s costs, rather than leave the Red Cross to foot the bill.

  Mary goes on to discuss a conversation she’s had with Godfrey. He assured her that he is aware of the importance of any affidavit he might sign, and the effect it would have on my appeal. She also confirms that she is flying to Washington on Thursday, and hopes that by the time she returns the following Tuesday, I will have been moved to an open prison.

  10.30 am

  Chapel. The prison has appointed a new chaplain. His name is Nick Tivey and, from his accent, I can only assume he hails from somewhere in the north of these islands. He looks around thirty, and tells me that he’s served in two parishes as a priest, before becoming a prison chaplain.

  His sermon, or chat, to the inmates is very informal, and more effective for that. His theme is how Jesus despised the Pharaohs (bigwigs) and much preferred to mix with the sinners (us). Applause breaks out among his congregation of seventeen (nine black, eight white), which has doubled since I last attended chapel. He must be doing something right if it’s only his second week.

  8.00 pm

  I begin to read The Tempest and am reminded of John Wood’s consummate performance as Prospero at Stratford.

  We are such stuff

  As dreams are made on, and our little life

  Is rounded with a sleep

  But not tonight, because Shane (GBH, gym orderly) has his TV full on while he watches the Sunday-night boxing. He likes to join in by offering his opinion on each bout, sometimes each punch, at the top of his voice. ‘Prick’ and ‘wanker’ are his more repeatable expletives. The boxing ends at 12.35 am, so I must have fallen asleep sometime after that.

  DAY 75 - MONDAY 1 OCTOBER 2001