The Escape

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘I was charged and kept in custody for stealing food.’

  ‘Stealing food! What was it, an Iceland truck full of the stuff?’ Colin had asked, astonished.

  Barry laughed. ‘No, McDonalds and KFC.’

  ‘Burgers and chicken?’

  ‘Along with French fries and a large drink. I’d even order a triple Mac with double fries and the warmed apple pie. I was doing it like every day, sometimes twice, and always ran off without paying.’

  Colin shook his head in disbelief as Barry continued, ‘I waited until all the food was on the tray and then, when they asked me for the money, I’d pick it up and run like hell.’

  ‘Didn’t you spill it off the tray?’

  ‘The first few times, yes, and I was only left with the chips or burger. The more I did it, the better I got and eventually never spilled a thing. One time though the drink went all over the floor, and the manager who was chasing me slipped in it and went arse over tit!’

  They both laughed out loud as Barry recounted his balancing skills.

  Colin was surprised that Barry’s crime, which seemed little more than a minor theft, was serious enough for him to land up in prison on remand. Barry giggled and explained that he had been dodging paying for his fast food for as long as he could remember.

  ‘I’ve been arrested loads of times, given warnings, fines and probation.’

  ‘Then why haven’t you learned your lesson?’

  ‘Because I just can’t resist doing it. I know every fast-food place from Chelsea to Fulham, Putney to New Malden, Kingston and beyond. You name an outlet and I’ll have tapped ’em.’

  ‘You must be a walking satnav for fast-food joints,’ Colin said.

  ‘I’d always return the tray,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I’d leave it in their doorway after eating the food. I had to keep switching where I went, so that the staff wouldn’t recognise me. I never thought I’d get caught, but they got me in Clapham High Street last time.’

  Colin was taken aback as it was a ridiculous series of petty crimes that didn’t, in his opinion, warrant a prison sentence.

  ‘Why are you going for trial and pleading not guilty? If you plead guilty at the magistrates’ you might not even get a prison sentence.’

  Barry giggled again. ‘Because I know that I will be found guilty and get a longer sentence at Crown court. You see, Colin, I’m glad they got me. I don’t really want to go anywhere else. I’m even going to ask for two hundred other cases to be taken into consideration.’

  Colin could not understand Barry’s attitude. He himself hated being in prison and had always thought that Barry was just making the best of a bad job when he’d claimed otherwise. Now he realised that Barry was genuine, and that Barfield was the closest thing he had to a family and home.

  Colin still felt extremely bitter that after going straight he’d been locked up for crimes he had committed over a year before. He was angry that the judge had not taken into consideration that he had changed while he was on the run and had been hard-working and honest. It had meant nothing to the judge that he had married Karen, she was pregnant and they were due to start a family together. It hadn’t helped that when Colin had been caught he had put up quite a struggle. Although all he had done was to push the arresting officer over, the judge described him as ‘violent’ and, peering at Colin over his half-moon glasses, had spoken in a clipped cold manner.

  ‘You were originally due for a sentence of probation and community service. You alone chose to abscond, and the courts will not tolerate that type of behaviour. You only have yourself to blame. Justice will be served and you, young man, are going to pay your debt to society.’

  Chapter Eight

  Colin went back to bed, but he tossed and turned and kept checking the time. The night seemed to go on forever, and he was growing more and more restless. He decided that, when he did give himself up, he’d start to use his time in prison more wisely, especially since he wanted to win back his chance of early parole. He would apply for the educational programmes and really try to better himself.

  The more he thought of it, the more certain he became that, after the baby was born, his life would improve. He knew that in his teenage years he had been very rebellious and often, as the judge had said, he could be quite violent and had got into scraps. But after meeting Karen, he had calmed down. Now he hoped, when he gave himself up after the escape, he would be sent back to Barfield Prison and would share a cell with Barry again. They could study together and he would take classes in computer studies and business, or anything that would give him a greater chance of work when he was finally released.

  At some point, he must have dozed off, because suddenly Barry was shaking him awake. It was 6 a.m. and they needed to double-check that none of the tattoos had smudged. Satisfied they were still intact and looking very realistic, they switched clothes. Barry was a lot plumper than his friend and the shirt looked too large on Colin, but he tucked it loosely into his prison-issue jeans to make himself look bigger than he was. Barry put on Colin’s shirt and started to button it up. It was very tight so he decided it was best to let it hang open, exposing the white prison vest.

  He looked at Colin and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ve lost a bit of weight since I was arrested. It’s not eating all the takeaway food. You’ll have to tighten up my trousers. They look too big on you and the last thing you want is them falling down.’

  Barry chuckled as Colin hitched up the jeans.

  Eventually, their cell lock clanged as an officer opened the door at breakfast time. Colin grabbed Barry’s glasses from his face as the officer entered and checked his clipboard.

  ‘Which one of you is Marsden?’ the officer asked, and Barry, by force of habit, was about to answer, when quick-thinking Colin jumped in.

  ‘Me, sir.’

  ‘Go have your breakfast and then make your way to the wing staff office. An officer will escort you to the release area for processing before going to court.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I know, they explained it all to me last night,’ Colin said, as his heart thumped rapidly.

  The officer was new and didn’t even give them a second glance as he moved on to the next cell.

  Barry and Colin both breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘I nearly dropped us in it there, but so far so good,’ Barry whispered.

  ‘Yeah, and I’m not even out of the cell yet,’ Colin said, wiping his brow.

  ‘He hardly even looked at us, and I’ve never seen him before,’ Barry said confidently.

  ‘Right, you go and get your breakfast and I’ll wait until eight to go to the wing.’

  ‘Slight problem there. If I’m supposed to be you now, I can’t really wear my glasses, and I can’t see a bloody thing without them,’ Barry said.

  ‘Oh no, I didn’t think about that,’ Colin replied. He was starting to sweat with nerves. He waved his arms to cool himself. He was worried that if he sweated too much, it might make the tattoo ink run. ‘Just wear your spare pair if you have to. Like you said, the officers are new so hopefully no one will notice.’

  ‘Right you are, good luck, and I hope all goes well with the birth,’ Barry said. He was sad now that it was nearly time for Colin to go.

  Colin had never been very touchy-feely, but he put his arms around Barry and patted his back while he hugged him.

  ‘Thanks for everything, pal.’

  Barry gave his friend a big grin and put his thumbs up. ‘Ta-ra for now.’

  Chapter Nine

  Left alone, Colin sat on the edge of his bunk. He’d been nervous when he woke up, and now his body was shaking and he was finding it hard to control. He took deep breaths, and listened to the noise of the inmates making their way to the canteen. He almost fainted when someone rapped on the cell door and an officer looked in on him.

  ‘Not going down for breakfast?’

  ‘No, sir. Got a bit of a dickey tummy from the shepherd’s pie last night.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ th
e officer said and went off down the corridor.

  Colin took more deep breaths to try to calm his nerves. He watched the minutes tick by very slowly until ten minutes to eight. Then he collected Barry’s things, his art pad, his crayons and felt-tipped pens. He put them in the plastic bag along with Barry’s wash bag, which held his toothbrush, razor, shaving cream and comb. By the time Colin had stripped Barry’s bed and folded the sheets and blanket, it was two minutes to eight and time to go.

  He paused by the cell door and took the art pad, crayons and pens from the bag and hid them under Barry’s pillow. Colin knew how important they were to his friend, and he reckoned he could do without them.

  With the bag and the bedding stacked in his arms, his head was only just visible above the pillow. He could hardly see a thing as the thick lenses of the glasses blurred everything. He pushed the glasses to the end of his nose so he could peer over the top of them, and walked out into the empty corridor, moving slowly. He walked down the iron staircase and on towards the wing’s staff office. There was only one officer on duty. He was eating a bacon sandwich as Colin appeared at the open door. Colin gave Barry’s name and number and waited, his heart pounding hard inside his chest.

  The officer popped his last bite of sandwich into his mouth, checked on a notice board and then looked at his wristwatch. He put in a radio call for another officer to come to escort prisoner Marsden to the release area for processing. Colin hoped that his shaking legs would not give the game away.

  ‘You had breakfast?’ the officer asked.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Colin lied, not wanting to speak any more than was necessary.

  He remained standing as the officer drank his coffee and read the newspaper. It was ten minutes before there was a call to say the escort was at the wing entrance. The officer, irritated by the interruption, tossed the paper aside, picked up some paperwork and gestured for Colin to follow him.

  They had to walk the length of the recreational area of the wing, then along a narrow corridor to the barred gate, where a female officer was waiting. Colin was relieved as he had never seen her before. The male officer handed her the paperwork, saying it was prisoner Marsden’s court release file.

  Colin was amazed that she didn’t even check the file before unlocking the gate and stepping to one side to let Colin pass in front of her. The officers chatted for a while and it was another few minutes before the gate was relocked. She then gestured for him to walk ahead of her along the corridor. It seemed to go on and on forever, until finally they reached another gate.

  At each gate, CCTV cameras were filming them and the female officer would come to a stop, show her key, and speak into a microphone.

  ‘Officer Stoodley taking Prisoner 8724 Barry Marsden to reception gates for court appearance release,’ she said every time in a bored voice.

  Once that was confirmed, the gates opened electronically and the officer used her key to open the last lock. Each time, Colin stood with the stack of Barry’s things in his arms, his heart jumping in his chest. They turned down what seemed like endless corridors, crossed the exercise area and eventually reached the entrance to the prisoners’ main reception area.

  Colin frantically wondered why they were there. He was relieved, when the gate opened, to discover that the reception was also used for release.

  There was a long counter, where several officers were taking details from inmates. Some were being released, others were also on their way to various courts, and, on the opposite side, were new arrivals.

  ‘All right, Barry, love, you go over there and wait to be called.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Colin said as he shuffled across to sit on a bench beside two other inmates holding their stuff on their knees. He didn’t look up and just stared at the ground, terrified someone would recognise him. The thick glasses blurred everything, and he hoped he wouldn’t fall over when he was called.

  Colin waited for what seemed to be an extremely long time. The incoming inmates were quite noisy and shouting abuse. The officers were dealing mainly with them rather than the men waiting to be released or to go to court. Colin watched as the new inmates were given prison-issue clothes and wash bags, and told to go into the changing rooms. Once they had changed into prison uniform, their personal items were bagged, tagged and put in lockers.

  Eventually, the man sitting next to him was called to the counter. Colin watched as he was told to put down everything to be checked. They then brought out his personal items in a bag that contained street clothes and smaller objects, a wallet and mobile phone, which he had to sign for. Colin didn’t want to appear too interested, in case it gave him away, but he listened intently as the officer double-checked the man’s belongings. He then began asking him questions about his address and his family, and Colin shuddered when he saw the officer compare the prisoner’s face with a photograph on his file.

  ‘Shit,’ he said to himself. Did he look enough like Barry even with the jam-jar glasses on? Could they be mistaken for each other? No way: they were of the same height and even had similar hair colour, but Barry was fatter and they didn’t look that much alike. He was so shaken that he didn’t hear the name Marsden. It was only when the officer called ‘Marsden’ a second time that he took any notice.

  Colin jumped up, stepped forward to the counter and set down the blanket, towel and pillow. The officer calmly threw them into a large laundry skip before opening his wash bag and sifting through it. A sealed plastic bag containing the clothes Barry had worn on his arrival was brought out. Inside were also a wallet and a key ring, which were placed on the counter with the clothes. The officer turned the personal items form towards Colin for signing and handed him a pen. For an instant, Colin thought about how many times he had practised writing Barry’s signature. His palm felt clammy, but he knew he could get it right. He signed Barry’s name.

  The officer told him to go to a changing cubicle and put on his own clothes for the court appearance. Colin took off the prison-issue jeans and shirt and stood in his underpants and vest as he pulled on a terrible moth-eaten, stained pair of navy-blue jogging pants. They were much too large for him and he hitched them high up around his chest. Dirty white trainers and socks all smelt horrible. He was just reaching for the T-shirt when the curtain swished to one side and an officer peered in.

  ‘I need to inspect your tattoos.’

  The man looked at his clipboard, which had a piece of paper with an outline of a man printed on it and a list giving the type and position of Barry’s tattoos.

  ‘Keep calm, keep calm,’ Colin repeated to himself in his mind as the officer glanced at his arm and then looked more closely at the mermaid before he pulled the curtain closed. Colin breathed a sigh of relief, swallowed hard and reached over to pick up the well-worn T-shirt. It had a faded logo of a Coke can on it. He tried to ignore the foul smell as he put it over his head and then pulled it down to cover the top of the jogging pants. He folded the prison clothes into a neat pile and then carried them back to the counter. The tattoo check was over and his confidence was growing that Barry’s insane plan would actually work.

  Chapter Ten

  Colin handed the prison clothes to an officer and they were also tossed into the laundry bin. He was told to sit on the bench again and wait. Within a few minutes, another officer picked up Barry’s release file from the pile on the counter.

  ‘Prisoner 8274 Marsden, step forward.’

  Colin went to the counter, where he was asked for his address, his family’s address and where he was born. While he was able to answer with ease, he was now tense because the officer was ticking off his questions and turning the page to Barry’s prison photograph. Colin was filled with fear. Even though he’d got away with the tattoo check and being questioned about Barry’s family, he had not thought this would happen.

  In the next instant, all of his plans for escape could end in disaster, and any hope he had of seeing his newborn child be ruined. All he could do was pray that Barry’s glasses wo
uld be enough to fool them.

  ‘You look as if you’ve lost weight. We’ve got you down here as fifteen stone.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I was charged with nickin’ food from McDonalds. That was all I ever ate, so since I’ve been here, I’ve lost a few pounds.’

  The officer laughed, and was about to look at the photograph, when all hell broke loose. One of the new prisoners had thrown a punch and was screaming and shouting. The distraction was enough to make the officer tell Colin to take his release documents and wait in the holding area.

  ‘Get a move on. You’ve got a taxi waiting and an officer will take you to court.’

  The fight grew worse and no one paid any attention as a relieved Colin grabbed the release documents and walked out into the holding area. He was dying of thirst but had to wait in line. The inmate ahead of him was handing over his documents and being released, having served his sentence. The electric metal door opened and the ex-prisoner began to sing at the top of his voice as he danced across the yard towards the next and final exit to the outside world.

  Colin hoped he would be as lucky. He handed over his file and a muscular, grizzled and grey-haired senior officer briefly checked the forms. He stamped a piece of paper, handed it to Colin and dropped the rest of the file into a plastic tray marked COURT RELEASES.

  ‘You got a taxi and an escort officer waiting in the yard by the exit gate,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Colin stepped forward, but the big man put out his arm.

  ‘Not so fast, son, just let me make sure they’re ready for you.’

  He spoke into a radio microphone, announcing Marsden was ready to go and would be the next prisoner to exit.

  Colin had the release form, Barry’s wallet and key ring in one hand and was holding up the loose jogging pants with the other. A blast of cold air took his breath away as the gate opened. He gingerly stepped into the courtyard and his spirits rose when he saw the massive set of wooden gates. Another female officer was standing by a local taxi firm’s rather beaten-up Volvo and an officer with an Alsatian on a lead was checking the car over. Colin handed her the release form.