Purgatory: A Prison Diary Volume 2 Read Free Page B

a
quick goodbye.
    I continue my exploration of the wing and discover that the
main Association room and the servery/hotplate double up. The room is about
thirty paces by twenty and has a full-size snooker table which is so popular
that you have to book a week in advance. There is also a pool table and a
table-tennis table, but no TV, as it would be redundant when there’s one in
every cell.
    I’m walking back upstairs when I bump into the hotplate man.
He introduces himself as Dale, and invites me to join him in his cell, telling
me on the way that he’s serving eight years for wounding with intent to
endanger life. He leads me down a flight of stone steps onto the lower-ground
floor. This is an area I would never have come across, as it’s reserved for
enhanced prisoners only – the chosen few who have proper jobs and are
considered by the officers to be trustworthy. As you can’t be granted enhanced
status for at least three months, I will never enjoy such luxury, as I am
hoping to be moved to a D-cat fairly quickly.
    Although Dale’s cell is exactly the same size as mine, there
the similarity ends. His brick walls are in two tones of blue, and he has nine
five-by-five-inch steel mirrors over his wash-basin shaped in a large triangle.
In our cell, Jules and I have one mirror between us. Dale also has two pillows,
both soft, and an extra blanket. On the wall are photos of his twin sons, but
no sign of a wife – just the centrefold of a couple of Chinese girls,
Blu-tacked above his bed. He pours me a Coca-Cola, my first since William and
James visited me in Belmarsh, and asks if he can help in any way.
    In every way, I suspect. ‘I would like a soft pillow, a
fresh towel every day and my washing taken care of.’
    ‘No problem,’ he says, like a banker who can make an
electronic transfer of a million dollars to New York by simply pressing a
button – as long as you have a million dollars.
    ‘Anything else? Phonecards, food,
drink?’
    ‘I could do with some more phonecards and several items from
the canteen.’
    ‘I can also solve that problem,’ Dale says. ‘Just write out
a list of what you want and I’ll have everything delivered to your cell.’
    ‘But how do I pay you?’
    That’s the easy part. Send in a postal order and ask for the
money to be placed against my account. Just make sure the name Archer isn’t
involved, otherwise there’s bound to be an investigation. I won’t charge you
double-bubble, just bubble and a half.’
    Three or four other prisoners stroll into Dale’s cell, so he
immediately changes the subject. Within minutes the atmosphere feels more like
a club than a prison, as they all seem so relaxed in each other’s company.
Jimmy, who’s serving a three-and-a-half year sentence for being an Ecstasy
courier (carrying packages from one club to another), wants to know if I play
cricket
    The occasional charity match, about twice a year I admit.
    ‘Good, then you’ll be batting number three next week,
against D wing.’
    ‘But I usually go in at number eleven’ I protest, ‘and have
been known to bat as high as number ten.’
    Then you’ll be first wicket down at Wayland,’ says Jimmy.
‘By the way, we haven’t won a match this year. Our two best batsmen got their
D-cats at the beginning of the season and were transferred to Latchmere House
in Richmond.’
    After about an hour of their company, I become aware of the
other big difference on the enhanced wing – the noise, or rather the lack of
noise. You just don’t hear the incessant stereos attempting to out-blare each
other.
    At five to eight I make my way back to my cell and am met on
the stairs by an officer who tells me that I cannot visit the enhanced area
again as it’s off limits. ‘And if you do, Archer’ he adds, I’ll put you on
report, which could mean a fortnight being added to your sentence.’
    There’s always someone who feels he has to prove how
powerful he is, especially if he can show off in front