by June Tate
The cell door was opened by the warder. ‘Right, this is your new home, Stanley. Now don’t give me any trouble or you’ll be sorry.’ The door clanged behind him and the sound echoed as the key turned.
Arthur saw a middle-aged man sitting on the bottom of two bunk beds, reading. He glared at Arthur and motioned to the upper bunk. ‘That’s yours.’ He pointed to a large bucket in the corner. ‘You piss in that – not in your bed! We slop out every morning.’
‘Slop out? What’s that?’
The man sighed. ‘Jesus! I’ve got a prison virgin to cope with.’ He looked at his new cellmate. ‘We have to empty the bucket every morning … that’s slopping out! Now make up your bed and leave me alone.’
With some difficulty, Arthur climbed up onto the bunk and eventually lay on his side looking around. There was a tiny barred window on the back wall. A small table, two chairs – and the bucket. Nothing more, apart from a couple of shelves with two framed pictures on one of them. He lay there wondering how he was going to survive in this? He was hungry. He’d been given some breakfast before leaving Southampton, but he’d been too nervous to eat much of it, which he now regretted.
Leaning over his bed, he looked down at the top of the head of his cellmate. ‘What happens at mealtimes?’
With a deep sigh the man answered. ‘The cell doors are unlocked and we go to the dining room and line up. You take a tray, a plate and some cutlery and stand in line. You take what you’re given, find a seat and eat. Then, when you’re told, you line up, return the tray and cutlery and line up again to be let out in the quadrangle for an hour’s break. Then you return to your cell until dinner. Got it?’
‘Got it!’ said Arthur.
It seemed for ever before the cell doors were opened for the prisoners to eat at lunchtime. Arthur very nervously followed his cellmate, not knowing the procedure. The prisoners filed into the dining room. There were long tables set up in lines with bench seats, and at the end of the room cooks stood in a line behind a counter, serving from hot dishes. Arthur put his plate down. The server didn’t even look up as he slopped a large spoonful of what looked like brown mush onto the plate. Arthur frowned but moved on. Mashed potatoes came next and at the end some vile-smelling cabbage. Following behind his cellmate, he sat down and looked at the contents of his food.
‘What the hell is this supposed to be?’ he asked.
‘Beef stew,’ he was told.
After a couple of mouthfuls, he said, ‘I reckon a cow just walked through this, because I can’t see no meat here.’
‘You’re not in a bloody hotel, you know. You’ll get used to it.’
Another convict, sitting on the other side of Arthur, spoke up. ‘Listen, son. Take my advice, if you don’t want to cause trouble. Just eat your grub and be grateful. The pudding’s usually better.’
Arthur looked at him. He was elderly, with round shoulders, his face lined, hair thinning, but he smiled kindly at Arthur. ‘You’ll get used to it all in time.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Fifteen years.’
Arthur was stunned into silence, wondering whatever crime the man had committed to have been incarcerated for so long? The sponge pudding and custard were at least edible, even if the custard was thin.
After filing back with the empty dishes, the prisoners were led out of the dining room into the quadrangle, a square open space with high fences. The men dispersed. Some stood together chatting, others wandered off and sat down on the concrete to have a cigarette or just look around. The old man from the dining room led Arthur to a bench and they both lit up a cigarette.
‘What’s your name son?’
‘Arthur. Arthur Stanley.’
‘Your first time in the pokey, ain’t it?’
Arthur nodded.
‘Well, take my advice. Keep yourself to yourself, don’t upset no one and you’ll probably be all right.’
With a frown Arthur asked, ‘What do you mean, probably?’
The old boy shrugged. ‘Inside you can never tell. A wrong look at the wrong person at the wrong time can be deadly.’ He got up and walked away.
Arthur stayed where he was, almost too scared to look at anyone. He’d quickly glance around then look away, trying not to meet any gaze from another prisoner. By the time the bell went for them to return to their cells, he was a nervous wreck.
He sat at the small table and wiped the sweat from his brow. Looking up, he saw the other man grinning.
‘Did old Henry put the fear of God in you in the yard?’
Arthur told him what he’d been told.
‘He’s right, of course, but just keep your mouth shut and find a spot on your own.’
‘Who is the old boy and why is he here?’
‘His name is Henry Evans. He killed his wife and mother-in-law. Said he couldn’t stand their nagging any longer! He’s in for life!’
Arthur was speechless. ‘That nice old boy did that?’
The other man burst out laughing. ‘That nice old boy throttled his wife in their bed, then went and did the same to the mother-in-law in hers. After, he went to sleep. Said it was the best night’s rest he’d had since the day he got married.’
‘Blimey!’ was all Arthur could say, but then he looked at his cellmate, wondering why he was inside and for what reason? But he didn’t ask, thinking he’d rather not know. As he lay on his bunk, he wondered how his brother was coping. Knowing Percy, he wondered how he’d react to being given orders. With a sly smile he knew he wouldn’t like it at all.
Percy had been taken to Wormwood Scrubs prison and put in solitary confinement, which suited him, not having to share space with a stranger. Here, alone, he could fume about his brother giving him up to the authorities and probably gaining remission for the evidence. If he could only get his hands on the little bleeder, he’d do for him!
At lunchtime, a warder opened his cell door and shoved a plate of food at him.
Percy looked at what was on the plate. ‘What’s this? Pig swill?’
The warder looked disparagingly at him. ‘Eat it or leave it! I couldn’t give a toss.’
Getting to his feet, Percy glared at him. ‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’
‘Don’t try and come the big I am to me, sunshine. In here you’re a nobody. Just a number! The sooner you get used to that the better it’ll be for you.’ He went out slamming the door shut.
Percy picked up the plate, sniffed the food and then, picking up a fork, tasted some of it. He immediately spat it out and threw the plate and the contents against the wall. It splattered everywhere, the walls, the floor and some of it onto his bedding.
Later the warder returned. He opened the cell door, looked around and saw the mess. He picked up the plate and the fork, glared at Percy and left without a word.
As the hours passed, Percy regretted his outburst as he slipped on some food on the floor. The smell from the rest of it permeated the room, making him feel sick. He wiped some off his blanket on the bed and lay down. The rest of the day passed without anyone bothering him and finally the lights went out and he was in darkness, apart from a shaft of moonlight through the small barred window in the cell. He slept badly.
The following morning, Percy could hear a sound of activity outside on the landing and wondered what was going on. There was a sound of cell doors opening and closing, voices, steps of people walking, getting nearer each time. He sat on his bed and waited.
Eventually his door was unlocked. Two warders stepped inside followed by a man dressed in a smart suit. The warder looked at Percy.
‘Stand up, this is the governor.’
Percy rose to his feet.
The dapper gentleman looked at him, then at the mess in the cell. He looked at the warden.
‘The prisoner doesn’t like our cooking, sir!’
The governor glared at Percy. ‘I will not tolerate such behaviour in my prison. You will wash down this whole cell until it gleams.’ Seeing the defianc
e on Percy’s face he continued. ‘Until my warders are satisfied that your cell is habitable again, you will not be given anything more to eat. You will not be allowed out to exercise, you will stay confined here until you satisfy my staff!’ He turned and left.
Half an hour later, Percy was taken out of his cell to a room, given a bucket, some soft soap, a long mop and a couple of floor cloths and a scrubbing brush. Then he was taken into another room where he had to fill the bucket with hot water before being led back to his cell.
‘I’ll be back in two hours,’ he was told by the warden.
Although he was furious at being given such a task, Percy set about cleaning up the mess because he couldn’t stand the smell of it any more. He washed down the walls, scrubbed the floor, but by now the water was too dirty to be any good so when the warder returned, he was taken to refill the bucket to finish the job. It took him nearly all afternoon before the warden was satisfied. He lay on his bed, completely shattered.
A while later, the door was unlocked, and the warder walked in with a tray. ‘You missed supper time.’ He placed the tray on the table. Walking over to the table, Percy, now very hungry, looked at the plate. There was a sandwich, a cup of watery tea and a biscuit. He sat down and devoured the lot. Was that it? He was still hungry. He banged on the door of the cell until the face of the warder appeared in the grille in the doorway.
‘What’s all the noise about?’
‘I’m still hungry. Is that all the food we get?’
‘You should have eaten your lunch. Now don’t go banging on this door any more, because I’ve got better things to do than listen to you.’
Percy sat on his bed. He’d not had any breakfast due to the mess he’d made of his cell and he was ravenous. Now he realised he’d have to eat whatever was given to him to keep up his strength. He had no choice.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Phoebe was sorting out her stall and cleaning it as was her habit on Monday mornings. She wasn’t feeling well. Her head was pounding and she’d started sneezing.
‘What’s up, love?’ asked her friend, Marj.
Phoebe drew up a stool she had at the back of the stall and sat down. ‘I don’t know. I’ve got a thumping headache and I feel chilled. I was fine yesterday, but when I woke this morning I felt dreadful.’
‘Go ’ome, darlin’. Mondays are quiet, you won’t miss much business. Make a ’ot drink and go to bed. Go on, staying ’ere won’t help.’
Reluctantly, Phoebe took her advice. When she got home, she made a pot of tea, took a couple of Aspirin tablets, then went to bed, leaving a note on the kitchen table for Tim. She soon fell into a deep sleep.
Tim let himself into the house, saw the note on the table, read it and walked quietly upstairs. Phoebe had left her bedroom door ajar, so he crept in and looked at the sleeping figure of his sister. For a moment he had a feeling of panic, remembering his mother having to take to her bed before she was taken to hospital – where she died. Peering at the face of his sister he thought she looked all right and decided not to disturb her yet.
Downstairs, he looked in the larder and saw a bowl of soup, which he placed in the oven to warm. He’d eat, do his homework, then wake Phoebe if she still slept; just to be sure she wasn’t seriously ill.
Later he was just about to go upstairs when there was a knock on the door. To his great relief, he saw Marj standing there.
‘Phoebe’s in bed asleep,’ he blurted out. ‘Do you think she’s sick like Mum was?’
Marj stepped inside and put her arm around the boy. ‘No, love, she’s just caught a chill. It’s probably just a cold. I’ll go and look at ’er in a minute but I’ve brought a couple of pies around. ’Ave you eaten?’
‘I found some soup, that’s all.’ He looked longingly at the pies as she unwrapped them.
‘Right! Get a plate and a knife and fork and eat one of these while I looks in on your sister.’
‘I made a pot of tea,’ the boy told her. ‘There’s some left in the pot.’
Marj poured one into a cup with a little milk and sugar and went upstairs. Putting the tea down, she gently shook Phoebe. ‘Wake up, girl!’
Phoebe gradually opened her eyes and frowned before she realised where she was. ‘Marj! What are you doing here?’
‘I brought a couple of pies round from the pie shop in case you didn’t ’ave any food in the house for you and Tim. ’E’s digging into ’is now. ’Ow you feeling, love?’
Phoebe sat up and took the cup of tea that was offered. ‘My headache’s gone, thankfully, but I still feel chilled.’
‘You need a couple of days in bed, girl.’
‘But the stall—’ Phoebe began.
‘Bugger the stall! You go back tomorrow, before you know it, you’ll be in bed for a much longer time. Young Tim’s already wondering if you’re going to pop your clogs like his poor mum.’
‘Oh no! Oh poor Tim. He must be worried sick! But I’ve got to feed him. I can’t do that if I’m in bed.’
‘Now, don’t you fret none. The boy’s had some soup and now a pie. ’Ave you got bread in the house for him to ’ave for breakfast?’
Phoebe nodded. ‘Right. Give him some money to buy fish and chips for you both at lunchtime and I’ll cook something for your supper. I’ve brought a piece of cheese to ’ave with the bread. Can you manage on that in the morning?’
‘Oh Marj! What would I do without you?’
‘You’d do the same for me. We’re mates, ain’t we? Now I’ll stoke up the fire ready for the night. Does Tim know ’ow to work the damper so it don’t burn away?’
Phoebe nodded. ‘Tim is used to having to take care of himself and things in the house.’
‘Good. Now wrap up warm if you ’ave to go outside to the lavvy. I’ll be back tomorrow after I close. I’ll send young Tim up with a pie for you to eat.’
At noon the next day, Ben went to the market but when he saw the empty place where Phoebe usually had her stall, he hurried over to Marj. ‘Where’s Phoebe?’
‘At ’ome in bed. She caught a chill on Sunday and I made her go ’ome yesterday. I’m taking food to ’er tonight and Tim is buying fish and chips during ’is school break at lunchtime.’
He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got time to pop round, but she’ll have to get out of bed to let me in.’
‘Don’t be daft, lad. People don’t lock their doors round ’ere. Let yourself in, but call upstairs to let her know it’s you.’
He hurried away.
Opening Phoebe’s front door, Ben stepped inside and called out. ‘It’s only me, Phoebe! Can I come upstairs?’
It was Tim who answered. ‘Come up, Ben, we’re having our lunch.’
Ben walked into the room to find Phoebe sitting up in bed eating fish and chips with Tim doing the same seated beside her on a chair. Ben was relieved to see that she was looking just a little pale but as she smiled he could tell she wasn’t too unwell. Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek. ‘I was worried when you weren’t in the market,’ he said.
‘Marj sent me home. I must say she was right to do so as I’m feeling a lot better now.’
Tim looked at her bedside clock and got up. ‘I have to get back to school,’ he said.
‘You run along,’ Ben told him. ‘I’ll take care of your sister. I’ll see you tonight.’ He sat on the chair.
‘The sooner we sort out our future the better,’ he said, frowning. ‘If we were married, you wouldn’t be in this situation. You both need taking care of and the sooner we get that sorted, the better!’
With a broad grin Phoebe asked, ‘Is that a proposal?’
Ben started laughing. ‘I suppose it is, but it certainly isn’t how I planned it.’ Taking her hand he asked, ‘Will you marry me, Phoebe?’
‘Yes, of course I will.’
He rose to his feet and kissed her. ‘But we’ll wait until you’re fit and well before we start planning. Now, I have to leave as I’m on duty, but I’ll be back tonight. All right?’
She nodded. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
When at last she was alone, she leant back against her pillows. ‘I’ve just got engaged,’ she said quietly. ‘In bed with a chill – I’ve just got engaged!’ She started to laugh.
Ben and Marj arrived at the house at the same time that evening. With Tim’s help, Marj set about sorting the dinner she’d prepared as Ben raced up the stairs to his new fiancée.
‘How are you, darling?’
‘Feeling much better. In fact, I’d like to come downstairs to have my supper. I’m fed up being here.’
He helped her out of bed and into a warm dressing gown, then he gathered her into his arms. ‘Shall we break the happy news to Tim and Marj?’
‘Oh, Ben, let’s do it. Tim will be so happy, and Marj too.’ They went down the stairs and into the kitchen. Phoebe was settled in a chair with a blanket and they waited for her friend to serve the meal.
Just before they started eating Ben spoke. ‘Phoebe and I have something to tell you both.’ Tim and Marj stopped what they were doing.
‘We are engaged! I asked Phoebe to marry me earlier today and she said yes!’
Tim let out a cry of joy. ‘That means you’ll be my dad!’ He scrambled out of the chair and flung his arms round Ben.
Marj had tears in her eyes. She got up, hugged and kissed Phoebe, then did the same to Ben. ‘Congratulations! I’m so very ’appy for you all.’ Sitting down she added, ‘Now let’s eat before this chicken goes cold.’
Tim was ecstatic. ‘Will you play football with me and take me to another cricket match?’
‘Of course, but not at the same time!’