Bird Page 6

  The fire brigade doused the flames, it wasn't much of a fire and it didn't take a lot to put it out. A fire engine did seem a bit extreme but I suppose the powers that be have to play it by the rules. It all pretty much fizzled out after that, the mob had drawn blood and could now rest happy. The prison became quieter and quieter until it fell asleep.

  TEN

  The next day life carried on as usual, same routine, no change. The one exception was the con who got the job of cleaning up the mess thrown from the cell windows. He did it while we were all banged up and he got abuse from some of his fellow inmates which seemed a bit odd to me because he was a big bruiser of a bloke. He was given plenty of shit while he cleaned up the shit. He took hours to do it, not something I would have entertained.

  “Not the best of jobs.” I pointed out to Darren.

  ''He gets paid for it don't he.” He replied.

  “How much?” I asked.

  “How much what, I don’t get it?” Came Darren’s reply. I could just tell it was going to be a difficult conversation.

  “How much money does that con out there get for cleaning up everyone else's shit and taking all that verbal abuse?” Perhaps he understood where I was coming from now.

  “Dunno.” Came the reply. “Anyway it's not really the money that’s the problem with him.”

  “So what is then?” I asked.

  “I don’t get it, what’s what?” Came his half-witted response. It was still early in the day and already I would have been quite happy to give this dopey sod a good caning.

  “Are you naturally stupid or is it something you have to work at?” I asked viciously.

  “Don't speak to me like that again London or I might have to teach you a lesson in manners.” He advised.

  It was difficult not to laugh, how could anyone take this guy seriously. He was all of five foot two inches tall and skinny with it. He wouldn't be able to pull the skin off a rice pudding let alone beat me up. Unless of course I had misunderstood him and he was going to give me some lessons in etiquette. The easiest option and for my part most entertaining was to humour him and wind him up. I had an idea that at the very least would humiliate him.

  “You're right Darren,” I continued, “I was out of order and I apologize for that.”

  I watched for his response. At first he seemed surprised but then quickly regained control and breathed in, obviously swelling with pride.

  “That’s okay, forget it.” He said.

  “So how much do you think that poor con out there might get paid?” I started again and this time he answered.

  “About a fiver per week probably.” He replied.

  “Five pounds a week, poor bastard.” I sighed.

  “He doesn't have to do it, London, it’s his choice. None of us are here because we want to be but at the end of the day it was our decision as to whether we broke the law or not.”

  “You are right of course Darren,” I agreed with him, “up to a point.”

  “I don’t get it, what's that then?” He enquired.

  “Well, for a start,” I explained, “you are right in saying it was his choice in breaking the law. Now he’s been caught and sent here to do his bird a whole new world of problems arises.”

  “I still don’t get it?” Darren interrupted.

  “Think it through Darren.” I encouraged. Darren had a blank face. The lights were on but Mr Brain wasn’t at home, there was a stony silence in the cell. I continued.

  “He needs money, right?” I nodded at Darren, he nodded back.

  “Of course he does, we all need money.” He was trying to look and sound intelligent now. He was sitting on his chair leaning forward resting his chin on his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs. He had a serious look about him even though he had no idea what I was trying to get at.

  “How does he get it then?” I asked.

  “Don't know, friends or family I suppose.” Came his thoughtful reply.

  “Suppose he's a loner and he has no way of getting to his stash? How does he get by?” I posed to Darren. “He might have thousands tucked up somewhere but it's no good to him in here because he can't get to it and he can't trust anyone to get it for him.”

  “So tell me what he does then London.” He challenged.

  “He gets a job on the wing as a cleaner and keeps his head down.”

  “Yes of course, I get it now London.” That was it, Darren was hooked. “No one is going to suspect him at all.” He was off and running with the idea.

  “He's probably got tens of thousands stashed away, sitting there doing nothing.” I suggested. “What a waste.”

  “Hmm!” Darren pondered.

  The cogs were grinding into action inside Darren’s woolly brain.

  “He probably needs help although he doesn't realise it.” He concluded. “He's got a job no one else wants to do. I've seen him about on the wing and you are right what you say London, he is a loner. Perhaps I could help him, I've got contacts on the out and I'm bloody sure we could sort something out.”

  “Nice one, but are your contacts people that you can trust?” I offered. “We're talking a lot of money here Darren.”

  “Oh yeah, no worries about that London. I'll get tricky Mickey to sort it out.”

  “That name worries me Darren, not the Mickey part. I think it might be the tricky part of it and we are talking a lot of dough here.”

  “Yeah, you might be right London.” Darren’s brain was working overtime now. I could feel the huge effort required to concentrate. “He did let me down that time and there was Tina of course.”

  “Tina?” I enquired.

  “Yeah, my wife, he shagged her.”

  “Oh.” I replied, “What happened to her?”

  “Everything is sweet now, I forgave her. It was all a big misunderstanding.”

  “I'll say.” I replied, “How can you trust a man with all that wedge who shags your wife and is called Tricky?”

  “Bloody hell, you are so right London me old son but what can I do, he's the only one I can trust and he is my brother.”

  “Oh.” It was my turn to ponder now. “How about,” I finally went on, “you find out what you can from matey boy out there and I'll speak to a reliable friend on the out?”

  “You are a diamond, London.” Darren was smiling away now. “Are you sure you can trust your man though?” He had brought the whole story and had the money firmly in his sights.

  “No worries there.” I reassured Darren. “I'll get the Growler to sort something out.”

  “You know the Growler?” Darren’s jaw dropped.

  “We go back a long way.” I told him. I really didn’t want to use the Growler as part of this wind up but I was so desperately bored that it seemed worth it.

  “Jesus London, you and the Growler?” Darren seemed to have some difficulty grasping the concept. Just the mention of that name was enough to put the fear of God into any man.

  “Yes Darren, the Growler and me go back a long way.”

  “Right.” He bleated. Darren looked scared.

  “Don't worry Darren, it'll be fine. All you need to do is make sure you find out where he stashed his cash and leave the rest to me.

  “I'll get to it today.” With that Darren fell very quiet. I was hoping that he would be concentrating on not letting me and the Growler down. In my world there were different levels of villain and the Growler was up there, someone to respect and admire for their achievements. He was also someone to be afraid of. If you didn’t show someone like the Growler the kind of respect they deserved then you would suffer. I really do mean suffer, retribution was always swift and always cruel.

  If Darren started to think about the earlier part of the conversation then the whole lie would fall flat on its face. It had all been too easy to convince drippy Darren he should act upon something he had no idea was true. That was the power money had over some people. They just saw the end result and in Darren’s case it was a wad of cash. I’d cemented the
lie in place by using the Growler and that was enough to make anyone ponder the consequences if things turned sour. Eventually the cell doors were opened and Darren was off.

  “Let’s rock and roll.” He said to himself as he made a bolt for the open door.

  The rest of the day went very slowly, so no change there then. There was a slight buzz of excitement on the wing after the previous night’s events. It was all a big game and the cons had won a small victory as far as they were concerned. There was a lot of talk about who threw what from their windows and about the fire and the fire brigade turning up. Darren was trying to befriend the litter picker but it didn't seem like he was having much luck. He assured me that he would have the information I wanted by the end of the day.

  “Don't worry London my old son, I'll crack that bastard.” Were his last words to me.

  The hour or so before dinner time we were banged up as usual but Darren never showed up. When the doors were opened and I could go and queue up for my dinner there was no sign of him. I ate alone that night. It wasn't until much later that the cell door was unlocked and in walked, or rather limped, a very sorry looking Darren.

  “What the bloody hell happened to you?” I exclaimed.

  Darren turned slightly toward Smiler who was standing in the doorway, winced in pain halfway through the turn then stopped and grimaced at me.

  “I fell over.” He bleated.

  Smiler laughed out loud.

  “Course you did Sparren.” He said while still laughing.

  “Is that really your name?” Was all I could think to say. Never mind the limp, his bloody nose or the black-eye, all I could think of was his stupid name, Darren Sparren. His parents really had it in for him.

  “Don't mind me, I'll just lie over here in the corner and die quietly. You have a good laugh at me, see if I care.” Darren Sparren was bleating like a little sheep.

  “Is that why you were given a good kicking Darren Sparren, because you whine like a little girl?” I laughed.

  “No,” it was Smiler's turn to twist the knife now, “It's probably because he's got such a stupid name.”

  “Fuck off and die you shitheads.” He retaliated as he gingerly climbed onto his bunk and ignored us.

  “Night night girls, and remember Sparren, if you must fall over make sure it's not into the arms of camp Colin.” Chuckled Smiler as he banged the cell door closed.

  I turned to Darren and asked him.

  “What's the score then, you got yourself a boyfriend that plays rough?”

  “London,” he replied, “just fuck off will you.”

  I laughed and sat on my bunk to read a paper I'd managed to get my hands on during the course of the day. After flicking through a few pages I spoke to Darren again.

  “Did you get anywhere with camp Colin?” I asked.

  “I did say fuck off didn't I?” Poor Darren was not a happy bunny.

  “Looks like he treated you like his last boyfriend.” I offered, perhaps that would get his attention.

  “You what?” It did.

  “Oh, nothing.” It was my turn to be difficult now. “Just a rumour I heard on the wing today but don't worry, it's not important.”

  “What did you hear, don't fuck about London.” He was really interested now.

  “Only that he is a rear gunner and he knocked several barrels of shit out of his last boyfriend because he wouldn't perform some kind of sex act.”

  “It's true London, he's as bent as they come.” He whined. “I didn’t get it at first and started to get a bit worried when he asked me if I'd ever seen a white eared elephant. Anyway things got out of hand and he gave me a kicking.”

  “So why the story about falling over?”

  “Because,” Darren continued, “I don't want everyone on the wing to know I was trying to befriend a poof or that a queer beat me up, even if he is built like a brick shithouse.”

  “You did know he was queer though?” I asked.

  “No not at first, I was just trying to get friendly with him to find out where he stashed his loot. When I left here this morning I found out where his cell was and paid him a visit. He was really not interested at first but I wasn’t going to leave it. That was when I came back to say how I was getting on. I went back a bit later and tried again and this time he gave in. I didn’t get it because he was like a different person from the first time and seemed more than glad of the company.

  I started to think how easy it would be to get the information out of him. We chatted away quite happily about jobs we'd done, scams we'd pulled and we had a few joints together. It did seem difficult to understand why he was such a loner. He was such a nice bloke. He seemed really friendly London, he wasn't a slob and his cell was mint.”

  “So let me get this straight Darren.” I asked him. “You go and knock on this bloke’s cell, a man who doesn't normally talk to anyone. After your first knock back you get invited in and all of a sudden you are best buddies. Right so far?'

  “More or less.” Darren agreed.

  “You say his cell was mint and he wasn't a slob?”

  “Yeah.” Darren nodded.

  “Oh yes, I almost forgot, he shared his drugs with you to. What a really nice bloke he is. Weren't you even a tiny bit suspicious?”

  “No not really.” Darren shrugged.

  “What about his cell mate then?” I asked.

  “Didn't have one, he did suggest I tried to move into his cell being as we got on so well.”

  It did seem incredible to me Darren didn't realise he was being groomed by this poof but on the other hand Darren was incredibly stupid. If camp Colin had been parading around his cell in a pair of high heels waving a pink feather boa in the air and saying chase me, I still don't think Darren would have realised what he was dealing with.

  “So when did you start to suspect things were not quite as they should be?” I asked Darren.

  “Well, like I said earlier it was when he asked me if I'd ever seen a white eared elephant. We had been having a laugh and a joke and we'd smoked quite a bit of gear. I was feeling really good you know? I was thinking to myself it was going to be easy to find out about his hidden money. Next thing I know Colin is showing me his party piece.”

  “So what is it then?” I asked Darren.

  “Well,” he continued. “I won't demonstrate, I'll just tell you. Funny enough a white eared elephant has white ears and if you pull your jean pockets lining out, you have your ears. You don't need me to tell you what his trunk was London.”

  “Oh right, that’ll be his knob then.” I said.

  “Yeah, it is, and before I knew what was going on he was asking me to stroke the elephants trunk.”

  “So what happened next then Darren, come on mate?” I asked, it was getting interesting now.

  “I punched his fucking lights out London.” Came the reply.

  “Oh yes.” I answered, “I can see you gave him a seeing to.” I laughed.

  “I'm not kidding London,” Darren protested. “I punched that queer as hard as I could on the chin and he just brushed it aside. I didn’t get it, I don't think it even made him blink.”

  “Then what happened?” I asked.

  “Well, he called me a bitch and promptly beat the crap out of me. Thought he was going to kill me London. The last thing I remember before passing out was seeing two screws rushing through the door.”

  “Strange, I didn't hear the alarm going off.” I said.

  “Don't know London.” Darren replied. “I was out of it. The next thing I remember was waking up in some serious pain and I was in a prison hospital bed. They've given me load of pain killers and I just want to sleep now.”

  With that abrupt ending Darren promptly fell asleep.

  ELEVEN

  If the newspaper I had in front of me was anywhere near up to date then I had been here for two weeks. Two full weeks of the boredom, crap food and petty rules. I couldn't stand it any longer. The episode with Darren and his lover boy had made me laugh b
ut it was only a temporary release from the daily monotony. I'd taken to walking round in circles once a day in the exercise yard. You only had one chance every day to go outside to get some air and walk around. It wasn't something I would normally entertain but because my daily routine usually involved lying on my bunk moping I'd been finding it increasingly difficult to sleep at night.

  So every afternoon for forty minutes I would trudge round in circles. The air was quite chill, it was Spring and even on a sunny day it could be bracing. You didn't have the option of popping back inside though if you decided it was getting a bit cold, once you were out you stayed out. Once out there we were all herded into the same direction. At first cons would latch onto me and it seemed pretty obvious this was for one of two reasons. The first was to see what they could get from me, usually in the form of tobacco or drugs.

  The second reason to talk to me was again, to see what could they get from me. Personal gain followed by more personal gain, that is all anyone was ever interested in. It was to be expected I suppose, after all we were all villains banged up together. Once the con had found out what you were inside for the next task was to find out what was in it for themselves. No self-respecting lag would want to be associated with a peado for example. If at this stage you were found to be in prison for a dodgy reason then you were left alone and ear marked for victimization and a good kicking at a later date. It was lags law, nonces and perverts were fair game. So the con on finding out you were in prison for a respectable crime would then go back to their original reason for approaching you, personal gain, what could they get out of the situation for themselves.

  Once it was established I wasn't a sex pest and there was nothing for them to gain from talking to me, they soon lost interest and didn't bother me again.

  It was one such afternoon while walking round in circles that I was approached for the third time on the same circuit. The previous two cons soon moved on when they realised I had nothing to offer.