Lazy Blood: a powerful page-turning thriller

by Ross Greenwood

  For long termers and repeat offenders their joy was tempered. It was often drink or drugs that had got them in this predicament in the first place and by the look of some in here they would be making similar choices the moment they stepped outside. It was not quite so easy to celebrate when life had taught you that you would soon be back. Will suspected at least one would be back by this evening, if not here, then in the police custody suite which was the waiting room for here. One of the prison officers had told Will that he had released someone at four in the afternoon one Friday after they were given ‘time served’ from video court and as he was driving home that night after his shift finished at seven, he had seen him face down on the pavement being cuffed outside the nearest off licence to the prison. He had even put him back in his old cell on the following Monday.

  Will joined in with the cheering as one of the youth offenders emptied a bowl of cornflakes down the back of another’s jogging trousers. It was a carnival atmosphere. Will wondered when was the last time all those rich people rattling around in their enormous houses and driving their non-appreciated top of the range cars felt like this. This was gritty happiness. Will really understood the old adage that you don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone. Take someone’s freedom and a gentle walk in a peaceful park is a hopeful dream. Prison is an illogical place. You are locked up alone, but you can feel unhappy humanity all around you.

  Will had been having a recurring dream of an unoccupied Olympic size swimming pool whilst he was inside. He would walk naked out of the changing rooms and slowly stride along the side of the water feeling the knobbly non-slip floor under his feet. The air would be crisp with chlorine and slightly chilled. Glorious silence would fill that empty space. He would go up to the five metre diving board and walk to the end. Then topple forward, ever so gently. He would slowly glide through the air and as he neared the surface he would hear the gentle lap of the water. He would burst into the icy clean coldness and race through and up, his ears bubbling and break through into the mist, gasping with shock, joy and freedom.

  He would usually wake up then and think one day, soon.

  Will had ended up staying on the induction wing. Good to his word before he left, Dean had got him a job as a wing cleaner and he had helped on the servery. He never had to relinquish his single cell - a perk of the job. He worked hard most of the time and got a simple pleasure from mopping floors and serving inmates. The prison kitchens cooked the food and it was then transferred to the wings in great big trolleys. Here the servery workers served it up in varying portions to the queueing masses. Due to that, he had eaten better than at any time in his life since he was a child. The servery workers short changed the new arrivals like it was a national sport. If you didn’t know the rules, how did you know they were being broken? It was a steep learning curve in jail and Will had learnt quickly. Giving the massive gym nutters an extra bit of chicken to help quench their insatiable desire for protein gave obvious benefits. A ‘He’s alright’ comment could be the difference between receiving a beating or not over the smallest perceived disagreement.

  As one of the inmates was let out for processing, everyone cheered again. Despite the overused air in the congested cell Will took a deep breath. He felt good. Better than good. Two months without booze, drugs, takeaways and nightclubs and he felt like he had been scourged through with bleach, coming out bright, refreshed and energised. He could feel the muscles move under his shirt that gym three times a week and cell exercises had given him remarkably quickly. No rolling around in bed here with a hangover when it was your wing’s turn for exercise.

  An officer let the orderly in to clear the mess up off the floor.

  ‘How long Eighteen?’ a con called Jules asked the orderly. Will had worked with Jules on the wing servery. He had said he had been given a ten year stretch for manslaughter and had come back to this jail near his home for local release. Eighteen was a lifer but no-one seemed to know what he was in for. The room went quiet for the reply.

  ‘Nine o’clock at the earliest,’ Eighteen replied. ‘They will let the courts out first, then you releases.’ A big cheer went up in the room. Will thought he would google these two lifers when he got out to see exactly what they were in for.

  Jules looked pensive. Jesus, ten years he had been in jail Will considered. Jules had described prison as a living death to him more than once. He had arrived all those years ago with a job, money, possessions, a house, a mistress, a wife and three children. Since then he had had to sit in a cage and watch them all slip away, in that order. He was not in any hurry to rush out to see what he had lost.

  Finally they were walking out of reception to the main gates. They all stood in the vehicle lock as the huge electric door shut behind them and they were plunged into darkness. There was a mechanical grumbling and then the door in front began to let light in and soon they were staring at the hopeful and tearful waiting families. Loved ones, not quite believing they were going to be out until they saw them. Will weaved between the relieved and happy clinches and saw his friends sitting on the bonnet of a sleek Audi at the front of the visitor’s car park. It was a good feeling.

  He hugged them all in turn but found himself thinking how much older they looked. It had only been two months, but it was as if he remembered them from school. He got in the front seat, Darren of course was driving. He passed Will a can of lager.

  ‘Where to Maestro?’ he said.

  ‘My body is a temple now fellas,’ he said resting it unopened on the floor between his feet.

  ‘McDonald’s first.’ He looked round at his mates and grinned. ‘I was worried I was going to come out and find you had found a grubby hooker to bring along.’

  ‘We did, but she had just finished such a busy night that she ran out of energy and we had to drop her back at her crack house,’ Carl said.

  ‘Shame.’

  ‘All is not lost William, we kept her pants for you.’ Darren turned to his side and grinned. ‘Carl has got them on.’

  Will looked to the back seat at Carl who gave him a comedy wink, then laughed a deep belly laugh. As he did he realised he hadn’t laughed like that in jail and he had missed it.

  They stopped at a cash machine on the way and Darren told him to check his balance. He gave Will his bank card which set alarms bells ringing in his head. Darren must have been in his house again to get it for him. He opened his mouth to complain, but Darren implored him to just look.

  He entered his pin code incorrectly twice before he realised he had been entering the pin for the prison phone. He pressed the option for check balance and winced as the machine began to whir, expecting some nasty negative balance that was accelerating daily with onerous bank charges. The screen pinged to life and displayed eleven thousand four hundred and ninety-eight pounds and thirty-three pence in credit. He checked the recent transactions and saw two cash deposits of six thousand pounds. One on the day he had been sentenced and one yesterday. He turned back to the car and saw Darren tapping his chest with his fist as he looked at him.

  Darren didn’t say anything as he got back in the car, although by the way the two in the back were smiling he suspected they knew.

  * * *

  As he walked into McDonald’s he found himself taking a big snort of air through his nose, savouring the smell of greasy food. He couldn’t help smiling at the people behind the counter, normal young people and he found himself running his hand along the backs of the seats as he walked to their table as though he had never been anywhere like this before. Soon though he was tearing his way through his second sausage McMuffin and chuckling at Carl’s story of his latest crazy female acquaintance.

  ‘No current pyscho then?’ Will asked.

  ‘No, I’m conserving my energy for our holiday.’

  ‘Holiday?’ Will replied with a mounting sense of horror and excitement combined in equal measures.

  ‘You tell him Darren, you paid for it.’ Aiden said.

  ‘With some help,�
�� Darren nodded at Carl before continuing with a flourish. ‘Will, with that day’s heroic and gallant actions, you have been rewarded with a holiday for four to Thailand. Obviously you can’t choose who you take on it. We go in a month my friend. The holiday of a lifetime. Fine food, great views, scuba diving and more lady boys than a frustrated ex-con like yourself can handle.’

  He handed Will an itinerary and Will sat back in his seat with a small smile on his face. Prison had given him time if nothing else. Time to sleep and time to think. He felt like he was now thinking straight for the first spell since he left school. He had laid on his prison bed and wondered what the hell he had been doing all these years. He was off the hamster wheel now and he was not getting back on it.

  Will had decided in jail he was now going to do something with his life. Nothing exceptional maybe, but break out of the rut he had found himself in. He was going to travel the world for a start. All those years he had wanted to go to Asia and never had. He didn’t care if he was a bit old for backpacking, or if he might be lonely on his own. That, he surmised, had been his big fear. Well you were never more alone than being inside and he had coped just fine. He knew that might have just been because he only had a few months to do and that the awful waste of doing years would be very different, but he wouldn’t be going back. He shouldn’t even have been there in the first place.

  Admittedly these plans had needed money, but for the first time he had decided he would make it work whatever. He hadn’t wanted to sell his house, but if that was what it took, so be it. He had decided if he had to work in B and Q until he was seventy-five because his pension was so poor then bring it on. Typical that now he had decided he didn’t care about that, he wouldn’t have to. He’d almost been looking forward to it.

  All of a sudden he could see a whole world of opportunity and new experiences opening up to him. Maybe, just maybe, it had all been worth it. He felt fully alive for the first time and he could hardly contain his delight.

  As they pulled out of the restaurant car park Will felt a little peaky. He wasn’t sure if he just had eaten too much or he now wasn’t used to food with flavour. Damn, it had tasted good though.

  ‘What do you want to do Will?’ Carl asked. ‘It’s your day. Do what you want and we will do it with you.’

  Will looked at his watch and was about to say its canteen day and stopped himself. He realised at the back of his mind he had been thinking about getting the servery ready for the food trolleys. Forgetting about prison routine would take a while and he was pleased with that. Every time he realised he could now do what he liked, when he liked, it sent a bolt of joy through his body. He began to have some understanding for how Darren felt when he left the army.

  Improbably though he wanted to go to his house and spend some time on his own. Sit on his sofa and watch television for as long and as loud as he liked. Draw himself a bath maybe. Even though he didn’t like baths much as he felt like he was washing himself in a tight coffin it was the fact the option had been taken away from him for so long that now made it appealing.

  ‘Do you need to do any Christmas shopping?’ Carl asked.

  ‘No, it’s OK, I made you all bird boxes in the woodwork workshop.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ Aiden said. ‘I’ve been looking for one for my garden.’

  ‘I’m joking you moron, how much bloody time do you think I’ve done.’

  ‘Yes Carl, I would like to get a few things for my nephews and nieces. I figured everyone else would understand that they would be getting fook all. Surely the pleasure of my company will be the only gift they want this year. My brother in particular can whistle, unless I can somehow buy a parcel bomb. That fucker wrote to me and told me he hadn’t really been to prison, he had just read someone’s biography of their time in jail. He just wanted the pleasure of watching me get sent down.’

  ‘Very sneaky from Nathan, he is indeed a massive weasel.’ Darren laughed out loud.

  Carl though picked up on the vibe coming off Will. He was a good friend Will thought.

  ‘Will, how about we drop you at your house, you can chill for a bit, then walk into town and pop in John Lewis. We will meet you for a nice pizza in Prezzo’s or something, then we can have a few beers and see if we can find someone desperate enough to sleep with an old crook like you. We can pitch it like some Christmas thing, you know like they will be doing their bit for charity.’

  ‘That’s a great idea Carl, take me home and I’ll see if I can find a long shirt to cover up my new hepatitis C infecting prison tattoos. Shall we say five p.m. in town?’

  Will could see by the look that flashed across Darren’s face that five wasn’t acceptable. He had clearly been expecting them to be together all day and on some kind of crazy pub crawl round town. Will for the first time in his adult life didn’t want to be pissed. He wanted to feel the way he felt today for the rest of his life.

  However he knew that his friends wanted to go out and he wanted them to be happy too, so he agreed on three p.m. as they all got out of the car at Will and Aiden’s address.

  ‘Do you want us to come in with you? Aiden offered.

  ‘Were you not listening cloth ears?’ Carl said with raised eyebrows added. ‘He has been locked up with a thousand men and wants some me time, if you get what I mean.’

  Will looked at Aiden’s dopey face as he got out of the car and saw that he didn’t.

  * * *

  He opened his front door, stepped in and closed it behind him. He thought it would be like stepping on to the Mary Celeste with half-eaten food and unfinished drinks on the table but instead it was cleaner than at any time since he had moved in. There were a few dust motes hanging in the air but as he walked through the lounge he could see nothing out of place. The kitchen worktops actually sparkled in the weak sunlight like in a movie and the floor shone in way that he had never been able to achieve when he had mopped it himself. In fact he recalled throwing the mop away last summer when a horrid odour had him convinced a squirrel or cat must have crept in and died somewhere, only to find the offending article was his cleaning equipment resting behind the door.

  He looked at the fridge and realised it had never occurred to him to empty it before he went to court the last time and he wracked his brain thinking of what he had left in there. It would have grown powerful by now and would be lurking inside, ready to leap out and bite him when he opened the door. He popped the door open and laughed. It was spotless. There was a pint of unopened milk with a best before date of New Year’s Eve, some new Lurpak butter, six free range eggs and a new pack of bacon claiming to be from acorn fed pigs. There was even some Tropicana orange juice and a four pack of Singha beer. He must have had the world’s poshest squatters move in or Carl had been shopping for him.

  He climbed the stairs, half expecting to find Mark Zuckerberg asleep on his bed but it was as clean and empty up there as it was downstairs. On his pillow was a pristine packet of Benson and Hedges cigarettes and a new zippo lighter with an SAS badge on it. He had never smoked in his bedroom before but prison necessity had overruled that particular standard and he took one out of the packet and laughed out loud when the flame caught and he saw that Darren had taken the effort to put gas in the lighter.

  He blew the smoke back out and it hung in the middle of the room like a dirty ghost and he felt as though he had just lit up in a chapel. He went to the spare room which he used as an office. The door was closed which was odd as he never closed it. Inside it was an absolute shit tip. Just how he had left it. Clearly this was a step too far for the cleaning crew. He turned his PC on and cracked open the window to blow the smoke and tap the ash out of whilst it loaded up. He felt odd as he sat in his old office chair, like he was sitting in someone else’s seat and would need to leap out when they came home.

  He signed onto his Hotmail account and stared in dismay at the two thousand odd new messages waiting for his perusal. He considered looking at them and decided he wasn’t really interested. He hadn’t mi
ssed all this technology inside or the wasted hours constantly looking at updates on the BBC news website and pointless Facebook posts. He turned the computer off at the mains without even bothering to shut it down and grimaced at the taste of the cigarette. He was used to roll-ups now. Anything else was too expensive in jail when you earned two pound twenty for a day’s work. He flicked the half-smoked fag out the window and gave a little cheer as it went plop in Aiden’s fish pond.

  He quickly trotted down the stairs, feeling like a stranger in his own home. He found himself touching and noticing things as if for the first time. He saw that he had missed that someone had arranged his post in a neat pile behind the door and decided he couldn’t be doing with looking at that today either.

  He opened the fridge again, almost missing the strange smell of various decomposing dairy products which used to greet him in the past, to get the milk out for a cup of tea but found his hand drawn to the beer. He pulled a bottle out of the pack and held it up for inspection. There was a golden lion under a bold SINGHA label and the bold declaration of it being ‘The Original Thai Beer’. He opened the drawer for his cutlery knowing he was going to have to hunt for a bottle opener but even this space had been tidied so everything was in its correct place. Aiden really needed to get out more.

  He reclined on his sofa which gave a reassuring sink in exactly the right spot and thought back over the last two months. How many times had he dreamed of this moment? Right now, back at home, on his own, total quiet. He slid his thumb through the cold condensation on the bottle and for the first time realised his friends had even put the heating on for him. He breathed in the aroma of the beer and it reminded him of being about eight years old and sneaking into a bar when he was on holiday.