AllFreeNovel
Share Us
2.00 pm
I am watching the Australians leave the field - they were all out for 447 - when the cell door is unlocked and I’m told to report to the visitors’ area. I switch off the TV and head out into the corridor. How unlike Belmarsh. I even have to ask the way. ‘Take the same route as you would for the gym,’ says Mr Chapman, but then turn right at the end of the corridor.’
When I arrive, the two duty officers don’t strip search me, and show no interest in my watch, which is secreted under my shirtsleeve. For visits, all prisoners have to wear striped blue prison shirts and blue jeans.
The visitors’ room is about the same size as the gym and is filled with seventy small round tables, each surrounded by four chairs - one red, three blue. The red chair and the table are bolted together so there is always a gap between you and your visitor. This is to prevent easy passing of illicit contraband. The prisoner sits in the red seat, with his back to the officers. In the middle of each table is a number. I’m fourteen. There is a tuck shop on the far side of the room where visitors can purchase non-alcoholic drinks, chocolate and crisps. The one prisoner trusted to handle cash in the shop is Steve (conspiracy to murder, librarian and accountant) - would-be murderer he may be, thief he is not. Once every prisoner has been seated, the visitors are allowed in.
I watch the different prisoners’ wives, partners, girlfriends and children as they walk through the door and try to guess which table they’ll go to. Wrong almost every time. Mary’s about fifth through the gate. She is wearing a long white dress which shows off that glorious mop of dark hair. Will is only a pace behind, followed by my agent and close friend, Jonathan Lloyd. He and Will take a seat near the door, so that Mary and I can have a little time to ourselves.
Mary brings me up to date with what’s happening at the Red Cross. Their CEO, Sir Nicholas Young, has been most supportive; no fence-sitter he. Because of his firm statements Mary feels confident that it won’t be long before I am moved on to an open prison. She also feels that the Prison Service and the police have been put in an embarrassing position, and will fall back on claiming that they had no choice but to follow up Nicholson’s accusation. The Red Cross may even consider taking legal action against her. The lawyers’ advice is, if they do, we should remain on the sidelines. I agree. She beckons to Will who comes over to join us.
Will tells me that he’s been monitoring everything, and although it’s tough for me, they are both working daily on my behalf. I confess that there are times in the dead of night when you wonder if anyone is out there. But I realize when it comes to back-up, there can’t be a prisoner alive with a more supportive family. When Will’s completed his report, Jonathan is finally allowed to join us, while Will goes off to purchase six Diet Cokes and a bottle of Highland Spring. (Three of the Cokes are for me.)
Jonathan has travelled up to Wayland to discuss my latest novel. He also wants an update on the diaries. I’m able to tell him that Belmarsh is completed (70,000 words) although I still need to read it through once again, but hope to have it on his desk in about two weeks’ time.
We discuss selling the newspaper rights separately, while allowing my publisher a 10 per cent topping right on the three volumes, as they’ve been so good to me in the past. But we all agree that nothing should happen until we know the outcome of my appeal, both for conviction and sentence.
Once Jonathan feels his business is
complete, he retires once again, so that I can spend the last half hour with Mary and Will. When we’re alone, we recap on all that needs to be done before we meet again in a fortnight’s time. At least I now have enough phonecards to keep in regular touch.
Steve comes across to clear our table - it’s the first time Mary has met someone convicted of conspiracy to murder. This tall, elegant man ‘looks more like a company secretary than a would-be murderer’ is her only comment. ‘You probably pass a murderer on the street once a week,’ I suggest.
‘Time for visitors to leave,’ announces a voice behind me. I unstrap my Longines watch to exchange it for a twenty-dollar Swatch I purchased in a rash moment at Washington airport. Will is facing the two officers, who are seated on a little platform behind me. He nods, and we both put on our new watches.
‘All visitors must now leave,’ repeats the officer politely but firmly. We begin our long goodbyes and Mary is among the last to depart.
When I leave the room, the officer asks me to take off my shoes, which he checks carefully, but doesn’t ask me to remove anything else, including my socks. He shows no interest in my watch and nods me through.
4.17 pm
Back in my cell, I find my canteen order has been left on the end of the bed. Hip, hip, and my clothes are finally dry, hooray. As I unpack my wares, Dale arrives with back-up provisions.
6.00 pm
Supper. Beans and chips accompanied by a large mug of Volvic.
7.00 pm
Exercise. Dale joins Jimmy, Darren and me as we walk around the yard, and manages all three circuits. On the last one, he spots the artist he told me about yesterday. He is sitting in the far corner sketching a prisoner. An inmate is leaning up against the fence in what he assumes is a model’s pose. We walk across to take a look. The drawing is excellent, but the artist immediately declares that he’s not happy with the result. I’ve never known an artist say anything else. As he’s more than fully occupied, we agree to meet tomorrow evening at the same time.
When I return to the wing, Sergio (hotplate, Colombian) asks me if I would like to join him in his cell on the enhanced spur. He’s kindly translated the letter from the Spanish student; it seems that the young man has just finished a bachelor’s degree and needs a loan if he’s to consider going on to do a doctorate. I thank Sergio, and pen a note on the bottom of the letter, so that Alison can reply.
‘Lock up,’ bellows an officer. Just as I’m about to depart, Sergio asks, ‘Can we talk again sometime, as there’s something else I’d like to discuss with you?’ I nod, wondering what this quiet Colombian can possibly want to see me about.
DAY 31 - SATURDAY 18 AUGUST 2001
6.21 am
Had a bad night. There was an intake of young prisoners yesterday afternoon, and several of them turned out to be window warriors. They spent most of the night letting everyone know what they would like to do to Ms Webb, the young woman officer on night duty. Ms Webb is a charming, university-educated woman who is on the fast-track for promotion. Darren told me that whenever a new group of prisoners comes in, they spend the fast twenty-four hours sorting out the ‘pecking order’. At night, Wayland is just as uncivilized as Belmarsh, and the officers show no interest in doing anything about it. After all, the governor is sound asleep in her bed.
At Belmarsh I was moved into a single cell after four days. In Wayland I’ve been left for eleven days among men whose every second word is ‘fuck’, some of whom have been charged with murder, rape, grievous bodily harm and drug pushing. Let me make it clear: this is not the fault of the prison officers on the ground, but the senior management. There are prisoners who have been incarcerated in Wayland for some time and have never once seen the governor. I do not think that all the officers have met her. Thaf s not what I call leadership.
One of yesterday’s new intake thought it would be clever to slam my door closed just after an officer had unlocked it so that I could go to breakfast. He then ran up and down the corridor shouting, ‘I locked Jeffrey Archer in, I locked Jeffrey Archer in.’ Luckily, only a few of the prisoners are this moronic, but they still make everyone else’s life unbearable.
8.15 am
Breakfast. One look at the lumpy, powdered scrambled egg and a tomato swimming in water and I’m off. As I leave, Sergio suggests we meet in his room at 10.30. I nod my agreement.
