Heaven
Page 14
Mr Simpson sighs. ‘There was nothing to suggest this would occur, and if he’d not been released, no lifer ever would be. The majority will never be a danger to the public as most murders are one-off crimes and first-time offences; 90 per cent of those released never commit another crime.’
It is possible for a lifer to be released after eight years, but the vast majority serve over twenty, and some never leave prison — other than in a coffin.
DAY 139
TUESDAY 4 DECEMBER 2001
8.57 am
Mr Clarke has been sacked and put on outside duties, while Carl has been sent back to the south block, and all because of a dishonest prison officer. I’ll explain.
Mr Clarke is the cleaner at SMU and because he’s sixty-seven years old, he only works mornings. It keeps him out of the cold, and gives him something to do rather than sit around in his room all day. You will all know from past reports that he carried out the job with a great deal of pride. Carl, whom I’ve been training to take over from me, will now only return to SMU when, and if, I become the hospital orderly. And why? An officer has been talking to the press to supplement his income, and among the things he’s told them is that I have my own cleaner and a personal assistant. The governor has found it necessary to suspend the two jobs while an enquiry takes place. Mr New is livid, not so much about Carl, but because Mr Clarke has suffered as a direct result of an officer’s ‘unprofessional conduct’.
The detailed information given to the press has enabled the investigation to narrow the suspects down to two officers. The guessing game in the prison is which two – unfair, because it allows prisoners to put any officer they don’t like in the frame.
10.00 am
Labour board. Carl is officially demoted to cleaner, but assured by Mr Berlyn that when my job becomes available, he will take over. Mr Clarke is now sweeping up leaves in the yard. Remember it’s December.
12 noon
Over lunch Doug tells me that Mrs Tempest has suggested that his prospective employer come to the prison, where his credentials will be carefully checked, and he’ll be questioned as to the job description, which entails driving a lorry from Boston to Birmingham to March and back every day. If all goes to plan, Doug will be able to begin work on Monday morning, I’ll go to the hospital as orderly, Carl will move back into SMU and, if the prison shows an ounce of common sense, Mr Clarke will be reinstated as part-time cleaner.
2.00 pm
I spend the afternoon at SMU on my own. There are three prisoners up in front of the sentence planning board, and another who needs advice on HDC (tagging). As he can neither read nor write, I fill in all the forms for him.
Mr New arrives looking frustrated. Another crisis has arisen over prison beds: twelve of the rooms on the south block have no doors. He gives an order that they must be fitted immediately, which in prison terms means next Monday at the earliest.
6.00 pm
I’m called over the tannoy to report to reception. It can only be Mr Daff.
I arrive in front of the Regimental Sergeant Major to find he’s on his own. Mr Daff tells me that he has decided to take early retirement because he doesn’t like all the changes that are taking place in the Prison Service. ‘Far too fuckin’ soft,’ he mutters under his breath. He adds that because I’m to be the next hospital orderly, I’ll be allowed some of my personal belongings. He opens my box and lets me remove a tracksuit, a blanket, two pillowcases, a tablecloth and a dictionary. He fills in the necessary pink form and I sign for them. He then winks as he places them all in a black plastic bin liner. I depart with my swag.
10.00 pm
I leave the hospital, return to my room and settle down to read The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which has been recommended by my son William.
DAY 140
WEDNESDAY 5 DECEMBER 2001
10.00 am
The punishment should fit the crime according to Mr W. S. Gilbert, and I have no quarrel with that. However, shouldn’t all inmates be treated equally, whatever prison they are incarcerated? Which brings me onto the subject of wages.
The practice at NSC is just plain stupid and, more important, unfair, because it discriminates in such a way as to be inexplicable to anyone. I have only become fully aware of the disparity because of my twice-weekly contact with the labour board, who not only arbitrarily allocate the jobs, but also decide on the wages. For example, as orderly to the sentence management unit, I am paid £8.50 a week. The library orderlies receive £9.40, the gym orderlies £11.90, reception orderlies £10.50, education orderlies £8.40 and the chapel orderly £9.10. However, a farm worker, who starts at eight in the morning and is out in the cold all day, gets £5.60, and a cleaner £7.20, whereas the prison barber, who only works from six to eight every evening, gets £10 a week.
It’s no different in any other prison, but no one seems to give a damn.
Seven prisoners come through reception today. Two of them have been sent to NSC with only eleven and nine days left to serve. Why, when moving to a new prison is a disorientating, frightening and unpleasant experience?13
Why not appoint to the prison board carefully selected prisoners who could tell the Home Office one or two home truths? Here at NSC there are two inmates with PhDs, seven with BAs and several with professional qualifications, all of whom are as bright as any officer I’ve met, with the exception of Mr Gough, who is happy to discus Sisley, Vanburgh and John Quincy Adams rather than the latest prison regulations.
2.00 pm
Carl takes over from me at SMU because I have a theatre visit. By that I mean that the two people who are coming to see me today are the theatre director David Gilmore, and the producer Lee Menzies. David Gilmore (Daisy Pulls it off) is just back from Australia, where he’s been directing Grease, and Lee is about to put on The Island at the Old Vic.
Currently I’m an investor (angel) with both of them. Grease, which is on tour in the UK, has already not only returned my capital investment, but also shown a 50 per cent profit. This is not the norm, it’s more often the other way round. I have 10 per cent of The Island, which hasn’t yet opened. David Ian (who had to cancel his visit at the last minute) has several shows in production in which I have a share: The King and I (London and tour), Chicago (tour), Grease (tour), and he’s now talking about a production of the successful Broadway musical, The Producers. Once David and Lee have brought me up to date on everything that’s happening in the theatre world, we turn to a subject on which I feel they will be able to advise me.
Mr Daff shouts out in his best Sergeant Major voice that it’s time for visitors to leave. Where did the time go?
8.30 pm
Doug tells me that his wife visited him today. She confirmed that he will be offered the haulage job, and therefore I can become hospital orderly next week. I’m going to have to decide which course to take should Spring Hill offer me a transfer.
10.00 pm
Life may be awful, but after watching the ten o’clock news and seeing the conditions in the Greek jail where they’ve locked up eleven British plane spotters, I count my blessings.
DAY 141
THURSDAY 6 DECEMBER 2001
4.45 pm
After a day of no murders, no escapes, no one shipped out, I meet up with Doug for supper. We sit at a corner table and he brings me up to date on his interview for a job. Having applied to the advertisement in the Boston Target, Doug was interviewed in the presence of Ms Tempest. He was offered the job and begins work on Monday as a lorry driver. He will ferry a load of steel coils from Boston to Birmingham, to March, before returning to Boston. He must then report back to the prison by seven o’clock. The job will be for six days a week, and he’ll be paid £5 an hour.
Just to recap, Doug is doing a four-and-a-half-year sentence for avoiding paying VAT on imported goods to the value of several millions. He’s entitled, after serving a quarter of his sentence – if he’s been a model prisoner, and he has – to seek outside employment. This is all part of the r
esettlement programme enjoyed only by prisoners who have reached D-cat status.
It works out well for everyone: NSC is getting prisoners out to work and in Doug they have someone who won’t be a problem or break any rules. Although he has a PSV licence, he hasn’t driven a lorry for several years, and says it will be like starting all over again. Still, it’s better than being cooped up inside a prison all day.
DAY 142
FRIDAY 7 DECEMBER 2001
9.00 am
I’m asked to report to sister in the hospital for an interview. As I walk across from SMU, I have a moment’s anxiety as I wonder if Linda is considering someone else for hospital orderly. These fears are assuaged by her opening comment when she says how delighted she is that I will be joining her. Linda’s only worry is that I am keeping a diary. She stresses the confidentiality of prisoners’ medical records. I agree to abide by this without reservation.
10.00 am
Mr New confirms that Mr Clarke (theft) has been reinstated as SMU cleaner. What a difference that will make. Carl can now concentrate on the real job of assisting the officers and prisoners and not have to worry whether the dustbins have been emptied.
2.00 pm
Do you recall the two prisoners who were caught returning from Boston laden with alcohol? One attacked an officer with a torch so his friends could escape. The escapee, who managed to slip back to his room and thanks to a change of clothes supplied by a friend, got away with it because it wasn’t possible to prove he’d ever been absent. Today, the same prisoner was found to have a roll-on deodorant in his room not sold at the canteen. He was shipped out to a B-cat in Liverpool this afternoon.
6.00 pm
I spend an hour signing 200 ‘Toad’ Christmas cards.
8.15 pm
Doug is having second thoughts about giving up his job. The thought of driving eight hours a day for six days a week isn’t looking quite so attractive.
10.00 pm
I return to my room and finish The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by the late Jean Dominique Bauby. It is, as my son suggested, quite brilliant. The author had a massive stroke and was left paralysed and speechless, only able to move one eyelid. And with that eyelid he mastered a letter code and dictated the book. Makes my problems seem pretty insignificant.
DAY 143
SATURDAY 8 DECEMBER 2001
8.00 am
Normally the weekends are a bore, but after a couple of hours editing Sons of Fortune I start moving my few worldly goods across to the hospital. Although I’m not moving in officially until tomorrow, Doug allows me to store some possessions under one of the hospital beds.
1.00 pm
Among today’s letters are ones from Rosemary Leach and Stephanie Cole in reply to my fan mail following their performances in Back Home. Miss Leach, in a hand-written letter, fears she may have overacted, as the new ‘in thing’ is blandness and understatement. Miss Cole thought her own performance was a little too sentimental. I admire them for being so critical of themselves.
I receive seventy-two Christmas cards today, which lifts my spirits greatly. The officers have begun a book on how many cards I’ll receive from the public: Mr Hart is down for 1,378, Mr New 1,290 and Mr Downs 2,007. I select three to be put on the ledge by my bed – a landscape by that magnificent Scottish artist Joseph Farqueson, a Giles cartoon of Grandma and a Bellini painting of the Virgin Mother.
2.00 pm
Highlight of my day is a visit from Mary, James and Alison, who between them bring me up to date on all matters personal, office and legal. William returns from America next week, and, along with Mary and James, will come to see me on Christmas Eve. Mary will then fly off to Kenya and attend my nephew’s wedding. Mary and I have always wanted to go on safari and see the big cats. Not this year.
DAY 144
SUNDAY 9 DECEMBER 2001
9.00 am
Doug has an ‘away day’ with his family in March, so I spend the morning covering for him at the hospital.
2.00 pm
A visit from two Conservative front bench spokesmen, Patrick McLoughlin MP, the party’s deputy chief whip in the Commons, and Simon Burns MP, the number two under Liam Fox, who covers the health portfolio. They’ve been loyal friends over many years. I canvassed for both of them before they entered the House, Patrick in a famous by-election after Matthew Parris left the Commons, which he won by 100 votes, and Simon who took over Norman St John Stevas’s seat in Chelmsford West where the Liberals had lowered Norman’s majority from 5,471 in 1979 to 378 in 1983.
‘If you felt the Conservatives might not be returned to power for fifteen years, would you look for another job?’ I ask.
‘No,’ they both reply in unison. ‘In any case,’ Simon adds, ‘I’m not qualified to do anything else.’ Patrick nods his agreement. I’m not sure if he’s agreeing that Simon couldn’t do anything else, or that he falls into the same category.
We have a frank discussion about IDS. Both are pleased that he has managed to downgrade the debate on Europe within the party and concentrate on the health service, education and the social services. They accept that Blair is having a good war (Afghanistan), and although the disagreements with Brown are real, the British people don’t seem to be that interested. Patrick feels that we could be back in power the election after next; Simon is not so optimistic.
‘But,’ he adds, ‘if Brown takes over from Blair, we could win the next election.’
‘What if someone takes over from IDS?’ I ask.
Neither replies.
When they leave, I realize how much I miss the House and all things political.
10.15 pm
This is my last night on the south block. Despite a football match blaring from next door, I sleep soundly.
DAY 145
MONDAY 10 DECEMBER 2001
3.52 am
I wake early, so write for a couple of hours.
6.00 am
Pack up my final bits and pieces and go across to the hospital to join Doug, who’s carrying out the same exercise in reverse.
7.30 am
I will describe my new daily routine before I tell you anything about my work at the hospital.
6.00 am Rise, write until 7 am.
7.00 am Bath and shave.
7.30 am Sister arrives to take sick parade, which lasts until 8 am.
8.00 am Deliver ‘off work’ slips to the north and south blocks, farm, works, education and the front gate.
8.20 am Breakfast.
9-10.30 am Doctor arrives to minister to patients until around ten-thirty, depending on number.
11.30 am Sick parade until noon (collecting pills, etc.).
12.00 Lunch.
12.30 pm Phone Alison at the office.
1-2.00 pm Write.
3.00 pm Prisoners arrive from Birmingham, Leicester, Wayland, Lincoln or Bedford, all C-cats, to join us at NSC. They first go to reception to register; after that their next port of call is the hospital, where sister signs them in and checks their medical records. You rarely get transferred to another prison if you’re ill.
I check their blood pressure, their urine sample for diabetes, not drugs; that is carried out in a separate building later – their height and weight, and pass this information onto sister so that it can be checked against their medical records.
4.30-5.00 pm Sick parade. Linda, who began work at 7.30 am, leaves at 5 pm.
5.00 pm Supper. If anyone falls ill at night, the duty officer can open up the surgery and dispense medication, although most are told they can wait until sick parade the following day. If it’s serious, they’re taken off to Pilgrim Hospital in Boston by taxi, which is fifteen minutes away.
5.30 pm Write for a couple of hours.
7.45 pm Call Mary and/or James and Will.
8.00 pm Read or watch television; tonight, Catherine the Great I’m joined by Doug and Clive (I’m allowed to have two other inmates in the hospital between 7 and 10.00 pm).
10.20 pm After watching t
he news, I settle down in a bed five inches wider than the one in my room on the south block and fall into a deep sleep. It is, as is suggested by the title of this book – compared with Belmarsh and Wayland – heaven.
DAY 146
TUESDAY 11 DECEMBER 2001
5.49 am
I am just about getting the hang of my daily routine. It’s far more demanding than the work I carried out at SMU. I hope that Linda will be willing to teach me first aid, and more importantly give me a greater insight into the drugs problem in prisons.