Heaven

unfaithful wife, led a perfectly normal existence. He was sentenced to life imprisonment, with a tariff of twelve years. Once in prison, his model behaviour saw him progress quickly (by lifers’ standards) from A, to B, to C, to NSC in under eight years. While at NSC his record remained unblemished, until he fell in love with a member of staff who had to resign her position, and look for another job. After twelve years he was released, and they were married shortly afterwards. The man found a good job, and settled down into the community. Three years later, on the anniversary of his first wife’s murder, he killed his new spouse and then took his own life.

Mr Simpson sighs. ‘There was nothing to suggest this would occur, and if he’d not been released, no lifer ever would be. The majority will never be a danger to the public as most murders are one-off crimes and first-time offences; 90 per cent of those released never commit another crime.’

It is possible for a lifer to be released after eight years, but the vast majority serve over twenty, and some never leave prison – other than in a coffin.

DAY 139 TUESDAY 4 DECEMBER 2001

8.57 am

Mr Clarke has been sacked and put on outside duties, while Carl has been sent back to the south block, and all because of a dishonest prison officer. I’ll explain.

Mr Clarke is the cleaner at SMU and because he’s sixty-seven years old, he only works mornings. It keeps him out of the cold, and gives him something to do rather than sit around in his room all day. You will all know from past reports that he carried out the job with a great deal of pride. Carl, whom I’ve been training to take over from me, will now only return to SMU when, and if, I become the hospital orderly. And why? An officer has been talking to the press to supplement his income, and among the things he’s told them is that I have my own cleaner and a personal assistant. The governor has found it necessary to suspend the two jobs while an enquiry takes place. Mr New is livid, not so much about Carl, but because Mr Clarke has suffered as a direct result of an officer’s ‘unprofessional conduct’.

The detailed information given to the press has enabled the investigation to narrow the suspects down to two officers. The guessing game in the prison is which two – unfair, because it allows prisoners to put any officer they don’t like in the frame.

10.00 am

Labour board. Carl is officially demoted to cleaner, but assured by Mr Berlyn that when my job becomes available, he will take over. Mr Clarke is now sweeping up leaves in the yard. Remember it’s December.

12 noon

Over lunch Doug tells me that Mrs Tempest has suggested that his prospective employer come to the prison, where his credentials will be carefully checked, and he’ll be questioned as to the job description, which entails driving a lorry from Boston to Birmingham to March and back every day. If all goes to plan, Doug will be able to begin work on Monday morning, I’ll go to the hospital as orderly, Carl will move back into SMU and, if the prison shows an ounce of common sense, Mr Clarke will be reinstated as part-time cleaner.

2.00 pm

I spend the afternoon at SMU on my own. There are three prisoners up in front of the sentence planning board, and another who needs advice on HDC (tagging). As he can neither read nor write, I fill in all the forms for him.

Mr New arrives looking frustrated. Another crisis has arisen over prison beds: twelve of the rooms on the south block have no doors. He gives an order that they must be fitted immediately, which in prison terms means next Monday at the earliest.

6.00 pm

I’m called over the tannoy to report to reception. It can only be Mr Daff.

I arrive in front of the Regimental Sergeant Major to find he’s on his own. Mr Daff tells me that he has decided to take early retirement because he doesn’t like all the changes that are taking place in the Prison Service. ‘Far too fuckin’ soft,’ he mutters under his breath. He adds that because I’m to be the next hospital orderly, I’ll be allowed some of my personal belongings. He opens my box and lets me remove a tracksuit, a blanket, two pillowcases, a tablecloth and a dictionary. He fills in the necessary pink form and I sign for them. He then winks as he places them all in a black plastic bin liner. I depart with my swag.

10.00 pm

I leave the hospital, return to my room and settle down to read The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, which has been recommended by my son William.

DAY 140 WEDNESDAY 5 DECEMBER 2001

10.00 am

The punishment should fit the crime according to Mr W. S. Gilbert, and I have no quarrel with that. However, shouldn’t all inmates be treated equally, whatever prison they are incarcerated? Which brings me onto the subject of wages.

The practice at NSC is just plain stupid and, more important, unfair, because it discriminates in such a way as to be inexplicable to anyone. I have only become fully aware of the disparity because of my twice-weekly contact with the labour board, who not only arbitrarily allocate the jobs, but also decide on the wages. For example, as orderly to the sentence management unit, I am paid ?8.50 a week. The library orderlies receive ?9.40, the gym orderlies ?11.90, reception orderlies ?10.50, education orderlies ?8.40 and the chapel orderly ?9.10. However, a farm worker, who starts at eight in the morning and is out in the cold all day, gets ?5.60, and a cleaner ?7.20, whereas the prison barber, who only works from six to eight every evening, gets ?10 a week.

It’s no different in any other prison, but no one seems to give a damn.

Seven prisoners come through reception today. Two of them have been sent to NSC with only eleven and nine days left to serve. Why, when moving to a new prison is a disorientating, frightening and unpleasant experience? [13]

Why not appoint to the prison board carefully selected prisoners who could tell the Home Office one or two home truths? Here at NSC there are two inmates with PhDs, seven with BAs and several with professional qualifications, all of whom are as bright as any officer I’ve met, with the exception of Mr Gough, who is happy to discus Sisley, Vanburgh and John Quincy Adams rather than the latest prison regulations.

2.00 pm

Carl takes over from me at SMU because I have a theatre visit. By that I mean that the two people who are coming to see me today are the theatre director David Gilmore, and the producer Lee Menzies. David Gilmore (Daisy Pulls it off) is just back from Australia, where he’s been directing Grease, and Lee is about to put on The Island at the Old Vic.

Currently I’m an investor (angel) with both of them. Grease, which is on tour in the UK, has already not only returned my capital investment, but also shown a 50 per cent profit. This is not the norm, it’s more often the other way round. I have 10 per cent of The Island, which hasn’t yet opened. David Ian (who had to cancel his visit at the last minute) has several shows in production in which I have a share: The King and I (London and tour), Chicago (tour), Grease (tour), and he’s now talking about a production of the successful Broadway musical, The Producers. Once David and Lee have brought me up to date on everything that’s happening in the theatre world, we turn to a subject on which I feel they will be able to advise me.

Mr Daff shouts out in his best Sergeant Major voice that it’s time for visitors to leave. Where did the time go?

8.30 pm

Doug tells me that his wife visited him today. She confirmed that he will be offered the haulage job, and therefore I can become hospital orderly next week. I’m going to have to decide which course to take should Spring