A Prisoner of Birth

"But Beth was against it." Nick smiled. "Said she didn't like the idea of my being overseas half the time when she'd be worrying herself sick about my safety. Ironic really."

"Good use of the word ironic," said Nick.

"How come you don't get no letters?"

"Any letters. I don't receive any letters."

"Why don't you receive any letters?" repeated Danny.

"How do you spell receive?"

"R-E-C-I-E-V-E."

"No," said Nick. "Try to remember, i before e except after c-R-E-C-E-I-V-E. There are some exceptions to that rule, but I won't bother you with them tonight." There was another long silence, before Nick eventually replied to Danny's question. "I've made no attempt to stay in contact with my family since the court martial, and they've made no effort to get in touch with me."

"Even your mum and dad?" said Danny.

"My mother died giving birth to me."

"I'm sorry. Is your father still alive?"

"As far as I know, yes, but he was colonel of the same regiment I served in. He hasn't spoken to me since the court martial."

"That's a bit rough."

"Not really. The regiment is his whole life. I was meant to follow in his footsteps and end up as the commanding officer, not being court-martialed."

"Any brothers or sisters?"

"No."

"Aunts and uncles?"

"One uncle, two aunts. My father's younger brother and his wife, who live in Scotland, and another aunt in Canada, but I've never met her."

"No other relations?"

"Relatives is a better word. Relations has a double meaning."

"Relatives."

"No. The only person I've ever really cared for was my grandfather, but he died a few years ago."

"And was your grandfather an army officer, too?"

"No," said Nick, laughing. "He was a pirate."

Danny didn't laugh. "What sort of pirate?"

"He sold armaments to the Americans during the Second World War; made a fortune-enough to retire on, buy a large estate in Scotland and set himself up as a laird."

"A laird?"

"Clan leader, master of all he surveys."

"Does that mean you're rich?"

"Unfortunately not," Nick replied. "My father somehow managed to squander most of his inheritance while he was colonel of the regiment-'Must keep up appearances, old boy,' he used to say. Whatever was left over went on the upkeep of the estate."

"So you're penniless? You're like me?"

"No," said Nick, "I'm not like you. You're more like my grandfather. And you wouldn't have made the same mistake as I did."

"But I ended up in 'ere with a twenty-two-year sentence."

"In here. Don't drop the h."

"In here," repeated Danny.

"But unlike me, you shouldn't be in here," said Nick quietly.

"Do you believe that?" said Danny, unable to hide his surprise.

"I didn't until I read Beth's letter, and clearly Mr. Redmayne also thinks the jury made the wrong decision."

"What's hanging from the chain round your neck?" asked Danny.

Big Al woke with a start, grunted, climbed out of bed, pulled down his boxer shorts and plonked himself on the lavatory. Once he'd pulled the flush, Danny and Nick tried to get to sleep before he started snoring again.

***

Beth was on a bus when she first felt the pains. The baby wasn't due for another three weeks, but she knew at once that she would have to get to the nearest hospital somehow if she didn't want her first child to be born on the number 25.

"Help," she moaned when the next wave of pain hit her. She tried to stand when the bus came to a halt at a traffic light. Two older women seated in front of her turned around. "Is that what I think it is?" said the first one.

"No doubt about it," said the second. "You ring the bell, and I'll get her off the bus."

***

Nick handed Louis ten cigarettes after he'd finished brushing off the hair from his shoulders.

"Thank you, Louis," said Nick, as if he were addressing his regular barber at Trumper's in Curzon Street.

"Always a pleasure, squire," said Louis as he threw a sheet around his next customer. "So what's your pleasure, young man?" he asked, running his fingers through Danny's thick, short hair.

"You can cut that out for a start," said Danny, pushing Louis's hand away. "All I want is a short back and sides."

"Suit yourself," said Louis, picking up his clippers and studying Danny's hair more closely.

Eight minutes later Louis put down his scissors and held up a mirror so Danny could see the back of his head.

"Not bad," Danny admitted as a voice shouted out: "Back to your cells. Association's over!"

Danny slipped Louis five cigarettes as an officer hurried across and joined them.

"So what's it to be then, guv? Short back and sides?" Danny asked looking at Mr. Hagen's bald head.

"Don't get lippy with me, Cartwright. Back to your cell, and be smart about it or you might just find yourself on report." Mr. Hagen placed the scissors, razor, clippers, brush and an assortment of combs into a box, which he then locked and took away.

"See you in a month's time," said Louis as Danny hurried back to his cell.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"ROMANS AND C of E!" bellowed a voice that could be heard from one side of the block to the other.

Danny and Nick stood waiting by the door, while Big Al happily snored away, abiding by his long-held belief that while you're asleep you're not in prison. The heavy key turned in the lock and the door swung open. Danny and Nick joined a stream of prisoners making their way toward the prison chapel.

"Do you believe in God?" asked Danny as they walked down the spiral staircase to the ground floor.

"No," said Nick. "I'm an agnostic."

"What's that?"

"Someone who believes we can't know if there's a God, as opposed to an atheist, who is certain there isn't one. But it's still a good excuse to be out of the cell for an hour every Sunday morning, and in any case, I enjoy singing. Not to mention the fact that the padre gives a damn good sermon-even if he does seem to spend an inordinate amount of time on remorse."

"Padre?"

"Army term for a priest," explained Nick.

"Inordinate?"

"Excessive, longer than necessary. What about you? Do you believe in God?"

"Used to, before all this 'appened."

"Happened," said Nick.

"Happened," repeated Danny. "Beth and me are Roman Catholics."

"Beth and I are Roman Catholics; you can't say me is a Roman Catholic."

"Beth and I are Roman Catholics, so we know the Bible almost off by heart, even though I wasn't able to read it."

"Is Beth still coming this afternoon?"

"Of course," said Danny, a smile appearing on his face. "I can't wait to see 'er."