Purgatory (A Prison Diary 2)

That’s not the sort of question I meant,’ she replies with a grin.

‘He must be Nigerian.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Dada. It’s an Igbo tribe name, the tribe of the leaders and warriors.’

She nods, and says, We met in prison in circumstances that sound as if they might have come from the pages of one of your novels.’ I don’t interrupt. ‘I had a prisoner who was due to be released in the morning. The evening before, he was phoning his wife to arrange what time she should pick him up, but couldn’t hear what she was saying because of the noise coming from a TV in a nearby cell. He popped his head round the door and asked if the inmate could turn the volume down, and was told to ‘Fuck off’. In a moment of anger he dropped the phone, walked into the cell and took a swing at the man. The inmate fell backwards onto the stone floor, cracked open his head and was dead before they could get him to a hospital. The first prison officer on the scene called for the assailant’s probation officer, who happened to be me. We were married a year later.’

‘What happened to the prisoner?’ I ask.

‘He was charged with manslaughter, pleaded guilty and was sentenced to three years. He served eighteen months. There was clearly no intent to murder. I know it sounds silly,’ she adds, ‘but until that moment, his record was unblemished.’

‘So your husband is black. That can’t have been easy for you, especially in prison.’

‘No, it hasn’t, but it helps me find a common thread with the dreadlocks.’

‘So what’s it like being a thirty-something blonde probation officer?’ I ask

It’s not always easy,’ she admits. ‘Sixty per cent of the prisoners shout at me and tell me that I’m useless, while the other forty per cent burst into tears.’

‘Burst into tears? That lot?’ I say, thumbing towards the door.

‘Oh, yes. I realize it’s not a problem for you, but most of them spend their lives having to prove how macho they are, so when they come to see me it’s the one chance they have to reveal their true feelings. Once they begin to talk about their families, their partners, children and friends, they often break down, suddenly aware that others might well be going through an even more difficult time outside than they are locked up in here.’

‘And the shouters, what do they imagine they’re achieving?’

‘Getting the rage out of their system. Such a disciplined regime creates pent-up emotions, and I’m often on the receiving end. I’ve experienced everything, including obscene language and explicit descriptions of what they’d like to do to me, while all the time staring at my breasts. One prisoner even unzipped his jeans and started masturbating. All that for twenty-one thousand a year.’

‘So why do you do it?’

‘I have the occasional success, perhaps one in ten, which makes it all seem worthwhile when you go home at night.’

‘What’s the worst part of your job?’

She pauses and thinks for a moment. ‘Having to tell a prisoner that his wife or partner doesn’t want him back just before they’re due to be released.’

‘I’m not sure I understand.’

‘Many l

ong-term prisoners phone their wives twice a week, and are even visited by them once a fortnight. But it’s only when their sentence is drawing to a close and a probation officer has to visit the matrimonial home that the wife confesses she doesn’t want her husband back. Usually because by then they are living with another man - sometimes their husband’s best friend.’

‘And they expect you to break the news?’

‘Yes,’ she replies. ‘Because they can’t face doing it themselves, even on the phone.’

‘And is there any particular set of prisoners you don’t like dealing with? The paedophiles, murderers, rapists, drug dealers, for example?’

‘No, I can handle all of them’ she says. ‘But the group I have no time for are the burglars.’

‘Burglars?’

They show neither remorse nor conscience. Even when they’ve stolen personal family heirlooms they tell you it’s all right because the victim can claim it back on insurance.’ She glances at her watch. I’m meant to be asking you some questions,’ she pauses, ‘not that the usual ones apply.’

‘Try me,’ I suggest. Lisa removes a sheet of paper from a file and reads out the listed questions.

‘Are you married?, Are you living with your wife?, Have you any children?, Do you have any other children?, Are any of them in need of assistance or financial help?, Will you be returning to your family when you are released?, When you are released, do you have any income other than the ninety pounds the State provides for you?, Do you have somewhere to sleep on your first night out of prison?, Do you have a job to go to, with a guaranteed source of income?’ She looks up. ‘The purpose of the last question is to find out if you’re likely to commit an offence within hours of leaving prison.’