Hell (A Prison Diary 1)

‘C of E,’ I reply.

‘Then you’ll be on the second shift. I’ll call you around 10.30 straight after Association.’

10.00 am

During Association, prison officers watch to see if you become part of a clique or gang, and how you behave while in a group, or if you’re simply a loner. I’m about to leave my cell, only to find a queue of prisoners waiting at my door. Most of them want autographs so they can prove to their partners or girlfriends that they were on the same block as the notorious Jeffrey Archer.

When I’ve finished what can only be described as a signing session not unlike the ones I usually carry out at Hatchard’s, I’m joined by my new Listener, Kevin. He confirms that James was shipped out to Whitemoor early this morning.

‘So what do you need, Jeffrey? Can I call you Jeffrey?’

‘Of course. What do I need?’ I repeat. ‘How about a bowl of cornflakes with some real milk, two eggs, sunny side up, bacon, mushrooms and a cup of hot chocolate.’

Kevin laughs. ‘I can sort out some Weetabix, skimmed milk, fresh bread. Anything else?’

‘A decent razor, some shampoo, a bar of soap and a change of towels?’

‘That may take a little longer,’ he admits.

As everyone knows what I’m in for, I ask the inevitable question.

‘I was part of the Dome jewellery raid, wasn’t I,’ he says as if everybody was.

What a sentence to deliver to an author. ‘How did you become involved?’ I asked.

‘Debt,’ he explains, ‘and a measure of bad luck.’

Nick Purnell’s words rang in my ears. Don’t believe anything you’re told in prison, and never reveal to your fellow inmates any details of your own case. ‘Debt?’ I repeat.

‘Yeah, I owed a man thirteen hundred pounds, and although I hadn’t spoken to him for over a year, he suddenly calls up out of the blue and demands to see me.’ I don’t interrupt the flow. ‘We met up at a pub in Brighton where he told me he needed a speedboat and driver for a couple of hours and if I was willing to do it, I could forget the debt.’

‘When did he expect you to carry out the job?’ I ask.

‘The next morning,’ Kevin replied. ‘I told him I couldn’t consider it because I’d already got another job lined up.’

‘What job?’ I asked.

‘Well, my dad and I’ve got a couple of boats that we fish off the coast, and they were both booked for the rest of the week. “Then I want my money,” the man demanded, so I wasn’t left with a lot of choice. You see, I was skint at the time, and anyway, he had a reputation as a bit of a hard man, and all he wanted me to do was transport four men from one side of the river to the other. The whole exercise wouldn’t take more than ten minutes.’

‘One thousand three hundred pounds for ten minutes’ work? You must have realized that there was a catch?’

‘I was suspicious, but had no idea what they were really up to.’

‘So what happened next?’

‘I took the boat as instructed up to Bow Creek, moored it near the jetty a few hundred yards from the Dome and waited. Suddenly all hell broke loose. Three police boats converged on me, and within minutes I was surrounded by a dozen armed officers shouting at me to lie down on the deck with my hands above my head. One of them said, “Blimey it’s not him,” and I later discovered that I’d been brought in at the last minute to replace someone who had let the gang down.’

‘But by then you must have known what they were up to?’

‘Nope,’ he replied, ‘I’m thirty-five years old, and this is my first offence. I’m not a criminal, and after what my family and I have been put through, I can tell you I won’t be coming back to prison again.’

I can’t explain why I wanted to believe him. It might have been his courteous manner, or the way he talked about his wife and fourteen-year-old son. And he was certainly going to pay dearly for a foolish mistake; one that he would regret for the rest of his life.*

‘Archer, Collins, Davies, Edwards,’ booms the voice of Mr King, an officer not given to subtlety as he continues to bellow out names until he comes to Watts, before adding, ‘C of E, now.’

‘I think we’ll have to continue this conversation at some other time,’ I suggest. ‘Our Lord calls and if he doesn’t, Mr King certainly does.’ I then join the other prisoners who are waiting on the middle landing to be escorted to the morning service.

11.00 am