And Thereby Hangs a Tale

“Mine’s Benny. Welcome to Belmarsh.”

“It’s not my first time in the slammer,” said Bryant. “I’ve been here before.” He chuckled. “Several times, actually. And you?” he asked once he’d climbed up onto the top bunk and settled down.

“Fourth time,” said Benny. “But then, I don’t like to hang round for too long.”

Bryant laughed for the first time. “So what are you in for?” he asked.

Benny was surprised that Bryant had broken one of prison’s golden rules: never ask a fellow con what he’s in for. Wait for him to volunteer the information. “I’m a fence,” he replied.

“What do you fence?”

“Almost anything. But I draw the line at drugs, and that includes marijuana, and I won’t handle porn, hard or soft. You’ve got to have some standards.”

Bryant was silent for some time. Benny wondered if he’d fallen asleep, which would be unusual on your first day inside, even for a regular. “You haven’t asked me what I’m in for,” said Bryant eventually.

“No need to, is there?” said Benny. “Your mugshot’s been on the front page of the tabloids every day for the past week. Everyone at Belmarsh knows what you’re in for.”

Bryant didn’t speak again that night, but Benny was in no hurry. The one thing you’ve got plenty of in prison is time. As long as you’re patient, everything will eventually come out, however secretive an inmate imagines he is.

Benny didn’t much like being in jail, but most of all he dreaded the weekends, when you could be banged up for eighteen hours at a stretch, with only a short break to collect an oily meal of spam fritters and chips from the hotplate.

The screws allowed the prisoners out for a forty-five-minute break in the afternoon. Benny could choose between watching football on television or taking a stroll round the yard, whatever the weather. He had no interest in football, but as Bryant always went straight to the yard, he settled for watching television. He was grateful for any break he could get in this hastily arranged marriage, and if Bryant was ever going to say anything about where the diamonds were, it was more likely to be in the privacy of their cell than in the bustling, noisy, overcrowded yard where other prisoners could eavesdrop.

Benny was reading an article about how the Italian Prime Minister spent his weekends when Bryant broke into his thoughts. “Why don’t you ever ask me about the diamonds?”

“None of my business,” said Benny, not looking up from his paper.

“But you must be curious about what I’ve done with them?”

“According to the Sun’s crime correspondent,” said Benny, “you sold them to a middle man for half a million.”

“Half a million?” said Bryant. “Do I look that fuckin’ stupid?”

“So how much did you sell ’em for?”

“Nothin’.”

“Nothin’?” repeated Benny.

“Because I’ve still got ’em, haven’t I?”

“Have you?”

“Yeah. And I can tell you one thing. The fuzz ain’t never gonna find out where I stashed ’em, however hard they look.”

Benny pretended to go on reading his paper. He’d reached the sports pages by the time Bryant spoke again.

“It’s all part of my retirement plan, innit? Most of the muppets in this place will walk out with nothin’, while I’ve got myself a guaranteed income for life, haven’t I?”

Benny waited patiently, but Bryant didn’t utter another word before lights out, four hours later. Benny would have liked to ask Bryant just one more question, but he knew he couldn’t risk it.

“What do you think about this guy Berlusconi?” he asked finally.

“What’s he in for?” asked Bryant.

Benny always attended the Sunday morning service held in the prison chapel, not because he believed in God, but because it got him out of his cell for a whole hour. The long walk to the chapel on the other side of the prison, the body search for drugs—by a female officer if you got lucky—the chance for a gossip with some old lags, a sing-song, followed by a saunter back to your cell in time for lunch, were a welcome break from the endless hours of being banged up.

Benny settled down in his usual place in the third row, opened his hymn sheet, and, when the organ struck up, joined in lustily with “Fight the good fight.”