7.30 pm
I pick up my letters from the unit office, thirty-two today, including one from Winston Churchill enclosing a book called The Duel, which covers the eighty-day struggle between his grandfather and Hitler in 1940. Among the other letters, nearly all from members of the public, is one from Jimmy.
You may recall Jimmy if you’ve read volume two of these diaries (Purgatory). He was the good-looking captain of football who had a three-year sentence for selling cannabis. He’s been out for a month, and has a job working on a building site. It’s long hours and well paid but, he admits, despite all the sport and daily gym visits while he was in prison, he had become soft after eighteen months of incarceration. He’s only just beginning to get back into the work ethic. He assures me that he will never sell drugs again, and as he did not take them in the first place, he doesn’t intend to start now. I want to believe him. He claims to have sorted out his love life. He’s living with the sexy one, and has ditched the intellectual one. As I now have an address and telephone number, I will give him a call over the weekend.
8.15 pm
After roll-call, Doug and I go through our strategy for a smooth changeover of jobs. However, if our plan is to work, he suggests we must make the officers on the labour board think that it’s their idea.
DAY 128
FRIDAY 23 NOVEMBER 2001
8.10 am
John (murder, senior kitchen orderly) tells me over breakfast that two prisoners absconded last night. He reminds me of an incident a couple of weeks ago when Wendy sacked both of them from the kitchen for stealing chickens. A few days later she gave them a reprieve, only to sack them again the following day for stealing tins of tuna – not to eat but to trade for cannabis. They were then put on the farm, where it’s quite hard to steal anything; the pigs are too heavy and the Brussels sprouts are not a trading commodity. However, last night the two prisoners were caught smoking cannabis in their room and placed on report. They should have been up in front of the governor this morning. It’s just possible that they might have got away with a warning, but it’s more likely they would have been shipped back to the dreaded Lincoln Prison – to sample all its Victorian facilities. They absconded before any decision could be taken.
12.08 pm
I am writing in my room when Carl knocks on the door. The Red Cross and KPMG have made a joint statement following Baroness Nicholson’s demand for an enquiry into what happened to the money raised for the Kurds. It’s the lead item on the midday news, and I am delighted to have my name cleared.
12.20 pm
I call Alison at the office to find that Mary is at the House of Lords attending an energy resources meeting. Alison runs through the radio and television interview requests received by Mary, but she’s decided only to issue this brief press statement.
PRESS RELEASE LORD ARCHER AND THE SIMPLE TRUTH CAMPAIGN
My family and I are delighted, but not surprised, that KPMG’s investigation into the Simple Truth campaign, spearheaded by Jeffrey in 1991, has confirmed that no funds were misappropriated by him or anyone else. We have known this from the outset. We are very proud of the work Jeffrey has done for Kurdish relief, the British Red Cross and many other good causes over the years. We hope that Baroness Nicholson, whose allegations have wasted much time and caused much unjustified distress, will accept KPMG’s findings.
Mary Archer
1.00 pm
Lady Thatcher has come out saying she’s not surprised by the outcome of the enquiry, which has dropped to the second item on the news following the death, at the age of ninety-two, of Dame Mary Whitehouse.
2.00 pm
Several of the officers are kind enough to comment on the outcome of the enquiry, but I’ve also fallen to second item with them. It seems that the two prisoners who absconded last night, Marley and Tom, were picked up early this morning by the police, only six miles from the prison. They were arrested, charged and transferred to Lincoln Prison. They will each have forty-two days added to their sentence and will never be allowed to apply for a D-cat status again, as they are now categorized as an escape risk.
5.00 pm
Slipped to third item on Live at Five, but as I have been exonerated, it’s clearly not news. If I had embezzled the £57 million, or any part of it, I would have remained the lead item for a couple of days, and the prison would have been swarming with photographers waiting for my transfer to Lincoln.
Not one photographer in sight.
10.00 pm
A passing mention of the Red Cross statement on the ten o‘clock news. I can see I shall have to abscond if I hope to make the headlines again.
10.30 pm
Irony. Eamon, my former room-mate, is now able to move in with his friend Shaun. They have been offered the room vacated by the two men who absconded.
DAY 129
SATURDAY 24 NOVEMBER 2001
4.00 am
A torch is flashed in my eyes, and I wake to see an officer checking if I’m in bed asleep and have not absconded. I’m no longer asleep.
7.17 am
I oversleep and only start writing just after seven.
10.00 am
The broadsheets all report the findings of the KPMG report. Several point out that none of this would have arisen if Baroness Nicholson, a former Tory MP turned Liberal peer, hadn’t made her complaint to Sir John Stevens in the first place. I call Mary to discuss our next move, but there’s no reply.
2.00 pm
I have a visit today from Doreen and Henry Miller. Doreen is a front-bench spokesman in the Lords having previously been a minister under John Major. She brings me up to date with news of the Upper House, and tells me that the latest Lords reform bill is detested on both sides of the chamber. The Bill ignores John Wakeham’s excellent Royal Commission report, and doesn’t placate the Labour party because not a large enough percentage of peers will be elected, and doesn’t placate the Tory party because it removes all the remaining hereditary peers. ‘It cannot,’ Doreen assures me, ‘reach the statute book in its present form, because it will meet with so much opposition in both Houses.’10
When Doreen and Henry leave, I don’t know where the ninety minutes went.
4.00 pm
I call Mary, but the phone just rings and rings.
4.40 pm
Watch England beat South Africa 29-9 and despite the Irish hiccup, begin to believe we might be the best rugby team in the world. If I’m let out in time, I will travel to Australia to see the next world rugby cup.
7.00 pm
I call Mary. Still no reply.
8.15 pm
After checking in for roll-call I join Doug at the hospital to find four officers in the waiting room. One of them, Mr Harding, is spattered with blood. Mr Hocking, the chief security officer, is taking a photograph of him. It turns out that Mr Hocking, acting on a tip-off, was informed that two inmates had disappeared into Boston to pick up some booze, so he and three other officers were lying in wait for them. However, when they were spotted returning, the first prisoner grabbed Mr Harding’s heavy torch and hit him over the head, allowing his mate enough time to escape. The first prisoner was wrestled to the ground and handcuffed, and is now locked up in the segregation block. The second has still to reappear, although they know which prisoner it is. Even a cub reporter would realize there’s an ongoing story here.
DAY 130
SUNDAY 25 NOVEMBER 2001
8.04 am
Phone Mary in Cambridge; no reply. Try London and only get the answering machine. Report to Linda at the hospital. Doug’s away on a town leave (7 am to 7 pm) so I’m temporary keeper of the pills.
11.30 am
During lunch, I discover from one of the gym orderlies that they caught the second inmate who was trying to bring drink back into the prison. He’ll be shipped out to Nottingham this afternoon.
Self-abuse is often one of the reasons they move offenders out so quickly. It’s not unknown for a prisoner who is kept in lock-up overnigh
t to cut his wrists or even break an arm, and then blame it on the officer who charged him. The prisoner can then claim he was attacked first, which means that he can’t be moved until there has been a full enquiry. Mr Hocking took several photographs of both prisoners, which will make that course of action a little more difficult to explain.
12 noon
The morning papers are predicting that I’ll soon be moved to Spring Hill so I can be nearer my family. One or two of them even suggest that I should never have been sent to Wayland or NSC in the first place simply on an allegation made by Ms Nicholson.
10.00 pm
After the news, I call Mary again, but there’s still no reply.
DAY 131
MONDAY 26 NOVEMBER 2001
8.30 am
One of my duties at SMU is the distribution of bin liners. At eight-thirty every morning, two prisoners, Alf and Rod, check in for work and take away a bin liner each. This morning Alf demands ten. I will allow you a few seconds to fathom out why, because I couldn’t.
I make a weekly order for provisions on a Friday, which is delivered on Monday, and always includes ten bin liners, so Alf is about to wipe out my entire stock in one day. I can’t believe he’s trading them and they are far too big for the small wastepaper baskets in his room, so I give in and ask why the sudden demand. Alf tells me that the director-general of the Prison Service, Martin Narey, is visiting NSC on Wednesday, and the governor wants the place smartened up for his inspection. Fair enough. However, if Mr Narey is half-intelligent, it won’t take him long to realize that NSC is a neglected dump and short of money. If they show him the north or south block, he’ll wonder if we have any cleaners as he holds his nose and steps gingerly through the rubbish. The visits room is a disgrace and extracurricular activities almost non-existent. However, if he is only shown the canteen, gym, farm, hospital and SMU, he will leave with a favourable impression.
I’m told the real purpose for Mr Narey’s visit is to discuss how this prison will prepare for resettlement status once the new governor takes over in January.
10.30 am
Mr Belford, a south block officer, pops in for a coffee. He tells me that the inmate who photographed me in my room failed to sell the one picture he managed to snap, because the negative came out so poorly.
11.00 am
Today’s new inductees from Nottingham include a pupil barrister (ABH), a taxi driver (overcharging) and a farm labourer (theft from his employer). They all end up on the farm because the prison is overcrowded and there are no other jobs available.
6.00 pm
Canteen. I’m £13.50 in credit (I earn £8.50 a week, and can supplement that with £10 of my own money). I purchase two phonecards, three bottles of Evian, a packet of Gillette razor blades, a roll-on deodorant and a toothbrush, which cleans out my account. I’m not in desperate need of all these items, but it’s my way of making sure I can’t buy any more chocolate as I need to lose the half stone I’ve put on since arriving at NSC.
7.00 pm
I phone James at work. He tells me that Mary has been on the move for the past few days – Oundle, London and Cambridge, and then back to London this afternoon.11
I join Doug in the hospital. He is anticipating an interview with Exotic Foods on Wednesday or Thursday, and hopes to begin work next Monday, a week earlier than originally planned. He has already spoken to Mr Belford about a room on the south block, in the no-smoking spur, and to Mr Berlyn about his travel arrangements to Boston. However, there is a fly in the ointment, namely Linda, who feels Doug should train his successor for a week before he leaves.
7.10 pm
I call Chris Beetles’ gallery and wish Chris luck for the opening of the illustrators’ show. Mary is hoping to drop in and see the picture I’ve selected for this year’s Christmas card. I ask him to pass on my love and tell her I’ll ring Cambridge tomorrow evening. For the first time in thirty-five years, I haven’t spoken to my wife in five days. Don’t forget, she can’t call me.
DAY 132
TUESDAY 27 NOVEMBER 2001
6.11 am
One incident of huge significance took place today. In fact, it’s a short story in its own right. However, as I write, I don’t yet know, the ending. But to begin halfway through.
Do you recall Leon, the PhD who joined us about a week ago? He wants to marry an Indian girl of high caste, but her father and mother refuse to entertain the idea, and that was before he was sent to prison (driving without a licence, six months). Well, he reappeared at SMU at three o’clock this afternoon in what can only be described as an agitated state. Although we’d had ten new inductees and a labour board this morning, it was turning out to be a quiet afternoon. I sat Leon down in the kitchen while Carl made him a cup of tea. He was desperate to discover if he was going to be granted his HDC and be released early on a tag. The officer who deals with HDC was in her office, so I went upstairs to ask if she would see him.
Ten minutes later Leon reappears and says that a decision will be made tomorrow morning as to whether he can be released early.
‘Well, that’s another problem solved,’ says Carl.
‘No, it isn’t,’ says Leon, ‘because if they don’t grant my tag, it will be a disaster.’
Leon doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who would use the world ‘disaster’ lightly, so I enquire why. He then briefs us on the latest complication in his love life.
His girlfriend’s parents have found out that she plans to marry Leon as soon as he’s released from prison on 6 December. She’s even booked the register office. She told him over the phone last night that her parents have not only forbidden the match, but three men who she has never met have recently been selected as possible husbands and they will be flying in from India at the weekend. She must then select one of them before she and her intended bridegroom fly back to Calcutta to be married on 6 December.
I now fully understand Leon’s desperation; I go in search of Mr Downs, a senior officer, who is a shrewd and caring man. I find him in the officers’ room going over tomorrow’s itinerary for the director-general’s visit. I brief Mr Downs and he agrees to see Leon immediately.
After their meeting, Leon tells us that Mr Downs was most sympathetic and will report his worries direct to the governor. He has asked to see Leon again at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, one hour before the board meet to decide if he will be granted a tag. I had assumed that there would be nothing more to tell you until the outcome of that meeting. However …
7.00 pm
I finally catch up with Mary, and forty minutes later have used up both my phonecards.
I go over to the hospital to have a bath, but before doing so tell Doug about Leon. I fail to reach the bathroom because he tells me he can remember a case where special dispensation was granted to allow an inmate to be married in the prison chapel.
‘Why don’t you ask the vicar about it?’ he suggests.
‘Because by then it will be too late,’ I tell Doug, reminding him of the timetable of the board meeting at nine o’clock tomorrow morning, and the three gentlemen from India arriving in Sheffield over the weekend.
‘But the Rev Derek Johnson is over at the chapel right now,’ says Doug, ‘it’s the prison clergy’s monthly meeting.’
I leave Doug and walk quickly over to the chapel. The orderly, John (ostrich fraud), tells me that the vicar has just left, but if I run to the gate I might still catch him. At sixty-one I’m past running fast, but I do jog, and hope that as the vicar is even older than I am I’ll make it before he’s driven off. When I arrive at the gate, his car is at the barrier waiting to be let out. I wave frantically. He parks the car and joins me in the gatehouse, where I tell him the whole story. Derek listens with immense sympathy and says that he can, in certain circumstances, marry the couple in the prison chapel, and he feels confident that the governor would agree, given the circumstances. He also adds that if the young lady needed to be put up overnight, he and Mrs Johnson could supply a room f
or her. I thank the vicar and return to the north block in search of Leon.
I find him in his room and impart my latest piece of news. He’s delighted, and tells me that he’s spoken to his fiancée again, and she’s already arranged for the wedding to be held in a local register office as long as he’s released early. If he isn’t, we have at least come up with an alternative solution. Leon is thanking me profusely when I hear my name over the tannoy, ‘Archer to report to the south block unit office immediately.’
I leave Leon to jog over to the south block and arrive at the unit office at one minute to nine. I had, for the first time, forgotten to check in for my eight-fifteen roll-call. If I’d arrived at one minute past nine, I would have been put on report and have lost my chance of being ‘enhanced’ for another eight weeks. Mr Belford, the duty officer, who knows nothing of my nocturnal efforts, bursts out laughing.
‘I was so much looking forward to putting you on report, Jeffrey,’ he says, ‘but I was pretty sure you would come up with a good excuse as to what you were doing at eight-fifteen.’