Bird Page 4

  SEVEN

  Finally the cell door was unlocked. Ricky was up and out of the door like a rat up a drain pipe. Not sure if I was missing out on anything I cautiously followed. I poked my head outside the cell door but Ricky was nowhere to be seen. A few cons were emerging from their cells looking a bit lost. How could he have disappeared so quickly? Still, it seemed like a good idea to explore my new manor since there was bugger all else to do.

  Before that the first thing I did was to take the trays and plates back that I had my breakfast on. I’d left Ricky’s in the cell, he could sort them out himself if he wanted to, I wasn’t his skivvy. So, on the wing I found a ping pong table, less bats and ping pong balls, and that was it. An expanse of beige linoleum was all that remained and that was gradually filling up with the cons spilling out from their cells. It didn't take me very long to check the place out. So now what did I do? I didn’t want to start chatting to anybody, there's nothing to do and Ricky's disappeared. Marvellous!

  It was then I heard it. A noise like a half strangled animal in need of a merciful killing to put it out of its misery. It was a chilling noise, high pitched and piercing. The wailing you occasionally here in the dead of night when you are tucked up nice and snug in bed. It normally wakes you and just before you turn over to go back to sleep you think to yourself, sounds as if a fox has got hold of something. Well I turned in the direction of the sound and immediately knew how that fox's victim must have felt.

  It was the fat bloke from yesterday and he was standing half way up the wing and was pointing at me. The strange noise was coming from deep inside that huge frame of his. I got the impression he didn't want to have a laugh and a joke with me or slap me on the back and talk about old times. It was more of a, I'm going to separate limbs from your body sort of impression I was getting. Time for negotiations had obviously passed and it was now action stations. A sawn off shotgun would be my preferred weapon of choice at this point but that just wasn’t going to happen. Buckshot to the kneecaps was always a good way to put someone off chasing you.

  So my plan B at this point was to leggit. Running away from someone in prison isn't a very easy task. I found myself running towards the wing entrance, dodging cons on the way. Some of them were obviously fresh in from the outside world like me and deep in their own thoughts, they had dazed looks on their faces. For a fat boy Darwin was surprisingly quick on his toes as well as delivering his punches quickly. I always thought running was something I was good at, you have to be a little bit fit in case you need to out run plod at any time. This Darwin bloke did seem to be gaining ground on me though.

  It would only be a matter of seconds before I reached the wing entrance and the hard steel bars keeping us all prisoners would present a bit of a problem. Glancing over my shoulder I could see one of Darwin’s hands was outstretched trying to grab me as we neared the bars. He was almost on me and still making that strange noise. I stopped suddenly a few feet short of the grey barred gates and immediately dropped to the floor and curled up into a ball.

  The fat bloke wasn’t ready for my sudden move and was totally caught out by it. There was no way he could stop in time and he tripped over my curled up body. The momentum he had built up running the length of the wing now propelled him straight into those grey bars. There was a kind of splat sound followed almost immediately by a sickly dink as his forehead head-butted the metal bars. The fat bloke was now a wobbly jelly sliding down the metal bars to become a large lifeless blob on the floor.

  Alarm bells started to ring out. I stood with my eyes fixed on the pile of unmoving blubber. Through the clang of the bells I could hear shouting, ‘back to your cells’ they were saying. Others were crying out, ‘come on, bang up’ as the screws regained control. Slowly but surely the wing began to clear as the cons returned to their cells. Still the blubber didn't move.

  “Come on London, you too.” It was Smiler, still smiling of course. “Back to your cell. Don't worry about that reprobate.” Smiler nodded toward the lifeless fat boy. “We've had dealings with Darwin before, it will take a lot more than a bit of a bump to cause him any damage. It would be nice to think he knocked some sense into that thick head of his but I very much doubt he has.”

  I turned around and headed back to my cell. Ricky was already there.

  “Howdy bruv.” He smiled up at me from his bunk. He looked really pleased with himself.

  “You've cheered up since I last saw you.” I commented.

  “I've scored some gear, bruv.” He beamed at me holding up a small cellophane wrapper. It contained a small dark block of hash.

  “Now,” he continued, “bang that door and let’s get Chinese eyes.” I banged the door and jumped up onto my bunk.

  Ricky got up and pulled out the chair that was under the table and plonked himself down on it. He unwrapped the gear and laid it out in front of him along with some tobacco. He then produced a packet of Rizla, a cheap plastic lighter and a disposable razor. Taking a few of the cigarette papers out he stuck them together in an odd sort of shape and laid it flat on the table. Next he picked up the razor and placed it on the floor. After stamping on it a couple of times he picked it up and sat back at the table with it.

  “Growing a beard?” I asked.

  “You're a funny boy London, watch and learn, watch and learn.”

  Ricky continued to pull the razor apart. Finally he ended up with the metal blade.

  “That'll do.” He said to himself.

  Next he unwrapped the block of hash and held it up to his nose.

  “Smells pretty good to me.” He chuckled.

  Then he cut a chunk off with his newly acquired blade and stuck a corner of the blade into the small chunk of hash and put it to one side. The tobacco was now used and Ricky put it into the neatly assembled Rizlas and started to roll it into shape as you would any other roll up only he didn't seal it. Instead he placed it back down on the table and picked up the hash with the blade in it and placed it over the flame of his lighter. Holding the edge of the blade furthest from the hash he turned it now and again to make sure it was evenly heated.

  “That'll do nicely.” He declared after a few moments.

  Taking the hash between thumb and forefinger he separated it from the blade and while holding it above the prepared roll up he crushed it, sprinkling it in the process along the length of the joint. Finally he rolled the joint tight and licked the edges and sealed it up. He screwed one end up and looked up at me smiling in the process while placing the open end of the joint in one corner of his mouth. Jumping up onto his bunk he made himself comfortable and sparked up his lighter. After a few moments drawing on his newly made masterpiece thick clouds of smoke started to appear.

  “Jesus, this is a good bit of gear. Want some London?” He offered.

  “Nah.” I replied.

  “Okay bruv but it’s your loss. You're gonna have to find some form of release.”

  “Drugs are not my style Ricky, I've got my reasons.”

  “That's cool bruv, I can respect that.” Ricky continued. “What do you do to chill out then London?”

  “I like a drink. Scotch whisky, just now and again though you know, well every day in fact now I think about it. I'm going to miss my Glenlivet.”

  “You'll have to change your preferences a bit then.” Ricky advised. “When you get to your nick you'll probably be able to knock up some hooch.”

  “My nick? Hooch?” I asked. “Like I’ve said before mate, I’m off out of this dump soon. My brief will be in to see me in a day or two to tell me when I’m getting out.”

  “Sure bruv.” He finally said. There was another pause as Ricky took a long drag on his joint. More smoke filled the cell.

  “You should try some of this London, it is good, bloody good gear.”

  I could see a hand appear from the lower bunk holding the drug. I paused now.

  “Weakening London?” Ricky quizzed.

  “No, not at all.” Came my honest answer. “I just don't seem
to be making myself heard Ricky.”

  “Alright, I won't ask again.” He urged. “But it is b....”

  “Bloody good gear.” I finished for him. “I seem to remember you saying.” I concluded.

  “So tell me about my nick and hooch.” I asked.

  “Thought you said you were getting out of here soon?” He replied.

  “I am but I’m going potty with the boredom. I want to take my mind off things so go on, tell me all about it.”

  “Well ok London, I'll tell you.” He continued. “First off we stay here in this cell for a couple of days. All the new arrivals are kept together where the screws can suss us out, see what we are like. Gradually we will be moved onto the wing with everyone else, a mixture of cons who are waiting to be moved out to prisons nearer to their home or a different cat and those who are staying here for the length of their sentence.”

  As Ricky was telling me all this his voice was becoming more relaxed. The joint was starting to work on him. He was more at ease and he even seemed quite happy.

  “You’re in for three years.” He continued. “So if your appeal don’t work and you have to do your bird you’ll be moving on from here in a few weeks, same as me. We might even end up in the same nick bruv.

  And hooch is hooch bruv. It's a rough booze. It does the job you know, gets you pissed. Might rot your teeth, make your hair fall out and give you one hell of a hangover but you don't think about that at the time. You might be able to make some at the new place. Oh, sorry bruv.” He corrected himself. “You’re leaving for the out soon, keep forgetting.”

  “Yeah right.” I laughed, ignoring his last comment. “They’ve probably all got mini-bars in their cells at these nicks.”

  Anyway he was gradually becoming more wrecked. I was becoming more bored and we were only a few hours into the first day. If this was all I could expect from prison life, waiting around listening to people talking bollocks, then I was glad I wasn’t staying. The conversation fizzled out and I found myself lying on my bunk staring up at the ceiling. I wasn't tired. After a long wait we were let out of our cells again. It was afternoon by now and Ricky was really starting to wind me up.

  He’d had a couple more joints and the bullshit was flowing quite freely. It wasn’t a conversation as such because Ricky was doing about ninety nine per cent of the talking. Now he was hungry though and would not stop going on about how he had the munchies. So when the cell door was unlocked again it was welcome relief. As before Ricky made a bolt for the door as soon as it was opened and he was off. Unlike before I just let him go.

  EIGHT

  A few minutes later I wandered out on to the wing myself. The food trollies were once more at the end of the wing and cons were beginning to form a queue in front of them. I leaned against the wall a few feet along from my cell door and just watched, lunch could wait a while.

  As before, cons started emerging from their cells. It did give me some satisfaction to see that some of them were dressed in an even more ridiculous fashion than me. Some of them formed small groups while others kept to themselves. They all drifted towards the growing queue at the food trollies.

  “London!” Someone called up to my right. It was the con from the day before, the one who’d given me useful advice about having a lot to learn and told me about Darwin.

  “Piss off,” I called back. “I’m in no mood for you.” I didn’t know this bloke but something about him just irritated me. I was a great believer in first impressions.

  “Come on mate, we’re all muckers together in here.” He persisted.

  “Anyway,” I butted in, “how do you know my name?”

  “Come on London,” he persisted, “after what happened earlier the whole wing knows your name now. If I had known it was the famous Jack London I was talking to then I would’ve tried to help you out a bit more.”

  “Taking the piss?” I asked.

  “No straight up mate, we've a mutual friend and he holds you in high esteem.” He smiled at me waiting for a response.

  “Go on then,” I was right about this bloke, I really didn’t like him, “who’s the mutual friend?” I asked, mildly interested now.

  “The Growler.” He replied with a smug look on his face.

  “I don't believe you.” I scorned. Why would the Growler want to get involved with this arsehole?

  “Come on mate it’s true, he told me you might be here.” He smiled back.

  “What’s your name then?”

  “Billy Mumbles.” He responded.

  “That’s funny, never heard the Growler mention you before.” I laughed. That was a name I wouldn’t have trouble remembering.

  “No,” he continued, “and until two days ago I didn't know you two were acquainted, even though I knew of you.”

  “You seem to know a lot about me?” I challenged.

  “Yes,” Mumbles agreed, “professionally I like your style.”

  That was it, I’d had a bellyful of this irritating little shit.

  “How do you know my style Mumbles?” I challenged while taking a step towards him. I was in the mood to chin this dickhead now.

  “I've never been sent down before and I keep a low profile as far as my business goes.”

  “Come on mate, there are still ways of finding out these things.” He smiled at me. “You of all people should appreciate that London.”

  This wasn’t making any sense, he couldn’t know that much about me because I normally worked with reliable blokes. As for the Growler, I trusted him with my life, he wouldn’t give anything away.

  “I don’t get it Mumbles” I didn’t and I was annoyed with myself for getting drawn into this row. “I don't understand how you know me and my style and you and the Growler make me the highlight of conversation.”

  “Hold on, hold on mate.” Mumbles held up a hand while shaking his head. “I never said you were the centre of our universe, simply that we have a mutual friend and you have some good ideas for making money.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking another step towards him. My fists clenched instinctively and I was aware of my breathing. His explanation seemed like a lot of hot air and as for my style, sticking a gun in someone’s face and saying to them give me the money, didn’t seem like a stylish way of making money. Not enough to have a fan base anyway. I was going into punch up mode but couldn’t work out why. Sure, this bloke was an irritating git and yes I was up for a fight given half a chance but I could see myself getting wound up over nothing. I stepped towards him again and this time he took a step backwards.

  “Come on now mate, don’t be silly.” He blurted out while raising his hand towards me, he obviously realised I was about to rearrange his face.

  “So how is the…” I started to say but never finished my sentence. Someone crashed into me from the side and I was now thrown by what was going on. Guessing it was one of Mumbles pals I tried to step back and give myself some space, ready for a ruck.

  “Wah… Sorry bruv, I need to get myself some glasses or something, didn’t see you there.”

  “Ricky.” I barked at him.

  “Bruv look, I didn’t mean to.” He pleaded while moving in front of me, between me and Mumbles. “Anyway we need to go and get some slop before it all goes.” He smiled while nodding toward the food trollies. It was obvious what he was up to.

  “Yeah right, good idea mate.” I agreed with Ricky but didn’t take my eyes of Mumbles. “I’ll catch up with you later Mumbles.” I hissed while giving him one of my nasty stares.

  A couple of minutes later I was in the food queue with Ricky.

  “Nice one Ricky, thanks for that.”

  “No worries bruv,” he smiled, “it takes a little while to settle in, you’ll be fine. You don’t want to end up down the block over nothing.”

  We got back to our cell without any further aggro and after banging the door shut ate our grub in silence. Once Ricky had finished eating he started to skin up a spliff.

  “I can see you've scored som
e gear again.” I stated.

  “And some chocolate bruv,” he said holding up a bar, “for the munchies when I get hungry again later. There’s some really good gear in this place.” He continued, “I feel like a kid in a sweet shop.”

  “You love a drug don't you Ricky.” I stated.

  “Abso-bloody-lutely bruv, you can't beat a good drug.” He laughed.

  “It obviously doesn't bother you what you might be taking then?” I quizzed Ricky.

  “Nah.” He replied. “Einstein said we only use twenty per cent of our brain.”

  “Einstein? What’s that got to do with getting off your head?” I quizzed.

  “I’m just burning out the 80 per cent I don’t need.” He laughed.

  “Oh well Ricky,” I sighed, “you may as well fill your boots up then.” Nothing I could say would make him think any different.

  Eventually the doors were opened once more. It was nice to have the option of leaving my cell to go out on the wing but there was nothing out there for me. The alternative again was to lay on my bunk and do nothing and that is exactly what I did. After what seemed a lifetime but in reality was only about an hour I couldn't stand it any longer, I had to do something. Ricky had disappeared some time ago leaving me to mope on my own. I picked up my dirty plastics, left over from lunch and headed for the washroom, cleaned them up and returned them to my cell.

  I returned to the wing once more, leaving the relative comfort of my cell. This time it was my aim to wander round and try and mingle, get to know a few people. It was pretty much a disaster though, no one really wanted to talk to me and I couldn't blame them either. Then it happened again, the alarm bells started clanging away, only this time it was nothing to do with me. I was near the first floor balcony and walked over to the edge and stood next to a curly haired bloke. We peered down.