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11.00 pm
I lie awake thinking about Sergio. Is he a liar, just another two-bit con man, or is he genuinely anxious about his brother’s safety? Only time will tell.
5.51 am
Locke has finished painting my cell, but is nervous about attempting the Magritte pattern Shaun has designed f
or the wall. Darren, as works manager, agrees that it’s far too elaborate, and should be cut down to about half the original, and even then he’s not sure I’ll get away with it. But as Darren points out, the worst they can do is make us return the paintwork to its original colour - cost, PS1. So it’s agreed that while I’m away at pottery, the redecorating will begin, and then we’ll have to wait and see how the spur officer reacts.
9.00 am
Pottery. Today the class settles down to do a still-life drawing. Anne, our tutor, and former Slade graduate, has taken a lot of trouble in gathering together objects of interest to make the drawing more of a challenge. She has set up in the centre of the room a small card table, and placed over it a cloth with a red and white diamond pattern. On the table she’s placed an empty wine bottle, a green vase and a fruit bowl. In the bowl she’s carefully arranged a bunch of grapes, a pineapple, three oranges, two apples and a peach. Paul, one of our other tutors, has supplied a cheese board and a lump of Cheddar.
We all sit round the table in a circle and attempt to draw what we see in front of us. Keith (kidnapper), who is sitting next to me, will present the piece as part of his A-level submission. He understands both perspective and shading. I, on the other hand, do not. Anne helpfully points out - to everyone else’s amusement - that my peach is bigger than my pineapple.
After an hour, we’re given a ten-minute break, when most of the prisoners go off for a quick drag. Shaun and I disappear with Anne into her office to discuss some ideas for a prison landscape which I hope to include in this book. I take up as much of her time as possible, because I can’t face another hour of still-life drawing. However, she seems keen to get back and see how the others are progressing.
Anne is a very easy-going person and I can’t imagine her losing her temper. But when she walks back into the main room and sees the still-life table, she goes berserk. All that remains of the original offering is two apple cores, the top of a pineapple, three orange skins, a peach stone, a grape stalk with one grape attached and a cheese board with just a few morsels left on it. To be fair, what is left has been artistically arranged, and her pupils are studiously drawing the new composition.
I burst out laughing, and it is only moments before Anne joins in. I am happy to report that Keith’s final effort was entered as part of his A level submission, and gained high marks for originality.
2.00 pm
Rugby. Over fifty prisoners turn out for the first training session of the season, which takes place on the main field adjacent to the football pitch. For an hour our coach, Andy Harley, puts us through passing and handling skills, and it soon becomes clear that several prisoners have never played the game before. For the last thirty minutes, the coach selects two sides for a game of touch rugby, which he asks me to referee. He tells me that I had refereed him some years before when a Newmarket XV visited Cambridge.
Because several of the prisoners didn’t know the laws of the game, I had to be fairly liberal if I wasn’t going to have to blow the whistle every few seconds for some minor infringement. However, I was left with little choice when a large black man threw the ball twenty yards forward, as if he were playing American football. I blew the whistle and awarded the blue side a penalty. He immediately bore down on me, shouting expletives, while the others stood around and watched. I paced ten yards towards his goal line, explaining that in rugby you can’t swear at the referee. His language became riper, so I advanced another ten yards, by which time he had been joined by three of his mates who weren’t much smaller. Two of the coaches ran quickly onto the field, and Mr Harley explained, Jeffrey is right If you argue with the referee in rugby, it’s automatically a penalty, and you’d better get used to it, because when we have our first match next week, a neutral ref will be even stricter.’ Many of the prisoners looking on remained silent, as no one was sure what would happen next.
‘Sorry, Jeff,’ said the big black man, and added, ‘it’s just that we never played it like that in Brixton.’ He then rejoined his team.
When I returned to the block, I went straight to the shower room, and a few minutes later was joined by Jimmy.
‘I scored two goals,’ he informs me, before adding, ‘I’ve just heard about you and Big Nes.’
‘Big Nes?’
‘Yeah, Big Nes from Block C. I’ve managed to go a whole year without speaking to him.’
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘He was Brixton heavyweight champion, and I once saw him knock a prisoner out with a single blow, and no one was sure what the poor bastard had done to annoy him.’
‘Oh Christ,’ I said, shaking under the shower, ‘I’ll never be able to go into the exercise yard again.’
‘No, no,’ said Jimmy, ‘Big Nes is telling everyone you’re his new friend.’
DAY 50 - THURSDAY 6 SEPTEMBER 2001
5.00 pm
I collect my supper from the hotplate, but Sergio avoids any eye contact.
As it’s Wednesday, you have to change your sheets, blankets and towels after supper, so I was too preoccupied to go in search of him. Darren popped in while I was making up my bed to attach nine small mirrors to the wall using prison toothpaste as an adhesive. Regulations allow you only one five-by-five-inch mirror, so heaven knows how Darren got his hands on the other eight.
6.00 pm
I go in search of Sergio, and spot him on the phone. I return to my cell thinking he’ll probably visit me once he’s finished his call… he doesn’t.
10.00 pm
