Fifty Years of Fear

by Ross Greenwood

  They also offered me a plum role in reception but I refused. For some reason, the reception orderly was always taken from the VP wing and spent most of the day making coffees and cheese toasties for the officers. It’s hard to describe what a cheese toastie smells and tastes like if you have been denied that pleasure for years. If you worked hard, you often came away with excess sandwiches and crisps too that they left for the prisoners being let out on day release.

  Nevertheless, I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing anyone I knew if I worked there. It also made me finally accept that if I stayed in my home town, I could bump into those who would be aware I had signed the Sex Offenders’ Register. My life would never be normal again.

  No wonder people couldn’t face it. I took a job in the woodwork room again. I wanted to make a new ashtray to replace the one I destroyed. My lack of control worried me, and it reminded me of the terrible crimes that men here commit.

  I wandered into the office on my first morning back on the wing. They had a whiteboard with all the prisoners names on in cell order. I scanned down them and grinned. Cell six, Alfred Gilroy. Doc. It would be nice to see a friendly face.

  The officers open all the doors at 7.15 in the morning whether you are awake or not. The kind ones shout ‘breakfast’ through the gap because if you don’t get up, it’s a long while until dinner. Doc’s was still ajar but the lights weren’t on inside. I pushed the door open and stepped in.

  There was an unusual pungent aroma in the room that reminded me of bad times. The breathing though, was slow and strong.

  ‘Doc.’

  He took a long time to wake and I had to repeat his name three or four times. He seemed bewildered. I was leaving when he spoke out.

  ‘Vinnie, is that you?’

  ‘Yes, Doc. It would be better to meet again in different circumstances but it’s nice to see you well.’

  It was a lie. He appeared drawn and sickly. The intelligence behind his eyes remained but he also looked furtive and trapped. He put out his hand which I took, thinking he wanted help from his bed. Instead, he held it.

  ‘Thank you for that but we both know it isn't true. I’m dying.’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’

  I was trying to cheer him up, yet I just sounded glib.

  ‘Cancer.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘It would be quicker if I told you where it wasn’t.’

  ‘Is there hope?’

  ‘None. Three or four months, more or less. Less probably. I should understand better than most. I’m scared, Vinnie.’

  That was how he looked. I stared at the shrunken man on the bed before me and he was afraid. It would be dreadful to be a medical man and know exactly what lay ahead. I should think it better not to be aware and deal with the pain if and when it arrived.

  I struggled with what to say. There are no platitudes for a diagnosis like that.

  ‘How long a sentence did you get?’

  ‘Twelve months.’

  ‘I see.’

  He choked on a laugh.

  ‘How long are you here for?’ he asked.

  ‘Same sentence, remember? I’m actually back here for six months. They have me on a variety of courses. Stop the Hurt is one. I might even be able to stay until I’m released now. It’s only two years away.’

  That news pleased him and he rested his head on the pillow.

  ‘Can’t you get compassionate leave, Doc? You know, released early.’

  He pulled himself up, seemingly having to draw on reserves to do so.

  ‘I hope they don’t give me a compassionate release. I’ve got nowhere to go. They don’t do that often and you have to be bed-bound, so I’m not too worried. It’s not that dying in prison scares me, or the pain. I’m afraid of dying alone.’

  ‘They’d put you in the ward, wouldn’t they? I don’t remember you going to chapel on a Sunday either.’

  ‘Sure, when I’m too frail to look after myself I’ll be put in a nappy by strangers. There will be no one to mop my brow when the time comes. It’s weird, all the twisted things I’ve done and here I am - not wanting to leave without someone I know at my side. I really hope there isn’t a God because if there is, I’m in the shit.’

  His cold paper skin seemed to burn in my hand as I could see purpose in his comments. I was saved from answering the question by the bellowed ‘Breakfast is over, behind your doors.’

  Ironically, it was the arrival of another old acquaintance that would keep me from doing what, I suspected, Doc wanted me to do.

  Chapter 45

  They came after lunch and took me from the woodwork class. The nervous officer chattered on the way there but I had heard it so many times, I didn’t listen. I knew what I had to do.

  There was a walkway between the house blocks where we lived and the main educational part of the prison. If the weather was good, you could feel the sun beat down on your face. All the metal, and lack of wind due to the high walls, magnified the heat. As it warmed me, I often felt I could be anywhere.

  It was a fleeting pleasure but a free one I could also enjoy when I was released. Sometimes, the prisoners would stop and bask with their faces turned up like lizards. Only the harshest officers wouldn't give the inmates a few seconds.

  I was taken back to my wing and led to the single cells at the bottom. I could hear sobbing before his keys jangled. He led me in and I found my old nemesis, Mr Kilkenny. Incredibly, he didn’t recognise me. The officer backed out of the door and locked it. His footsteps had receded to nothing before it registered I could be in danger. I wasn’t. He wanted to confess and I would listen.

  ‘I’d been off my head all night. Charlie and pills, vodka, shots, you name it. We went to an after party and it was the speed bombs that did it. Huge parts of the evening are missing. I didn’t know what was going on. I came to in the town centre around 6 a.m. I’d just been walking about, I think, and decided to go to the red-light area. Speed makes you horny. There was this hooker, and she took me round the back of an old pub. She wanted the money and I had none.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘How long do you think I’ll get for that?’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I fucked her anyway, and didn’t pay her.’

  ‘I take it she wasn’t happy with that arrangement.’

  ‘No, she struggled for a bit but soon stopped. She’s a whore, man. That’s what they do. She probably enjoyed it.’

  He started snivelling again. I let him carry on.

  ‘How long do you think I’ll get?’

  I’d heard so many of these stories that I knew what troubled him. His tears weren't shed for the victim, they were cries for his change in circumstances. I wouldn't sugar-coat it for a scum bag like Kilkenny.

  ‘The starting point for rape is five years.’

  I could see him doing the maths; five years, out in two and a half. He’d done over four years for his previous offence so less than that wouldn't bother him. I gave him a few moments of peace.

  ‘Although that depends on the aggravating factors. If there was violence, that would be frowned upon. Use of drugs and alcohol would be another negative aspect, so you would likely be looking at eight years. I guess if you got a superb brief, he could argue that you thought it was a business arrangement. Say she was a hooker and you wanted to pretend it was rough. Maybe you forgot you had to pay.’

  He liked that, fool that he was.

  ‘Unfortunately, you have a conviction for a previous sexual offence.’

  His eyes narrowed as he tried to think how I would know.

  ‘A serious one if I’m not mistaken. That would make you a dangerous man. Are you a dangerous man, Mr Kilkenny?’

  The idiot had the incredible pride to puff his chest out.

  ‘I’ll say.’

  ‘I thought as much. When you go to court, you will receive a life sentence.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Life, probably with a minimum term of fifteen years. You won�
��t get out after fifteen years though as they will say you’re still a danger. You would need to keep your nose clean and even then, I would be surprised if you were out in twenty. How old are you now?'

  He sat down on the bed. No tears this time. They would come.

  ‘Thirty.’

  ‘You’ll be fifty when you leave. About the same age as me.’

  I stood up and pressed the intercom. A muffled indecipherable buzz came through.

  ‘Listener, guv. Ready to go.’

  I turned to stare at Kilkenny. There would be no more talking from him for a while. I wanted to get out of there fast, though. A man like him would look for someone else to blame.

  In some ways watching the beatings was worse as, even though Kilkenny wasn’t as bulky anymore, his anger had developed.

  When people like him get released they don’t nip down to their local Virgin Active and take out full membership, they pick up the reins of their old lives and ride hell for leather to their next mistake. He would have plenty of free time to rectify his muscle wastage but he was still too strong for everyone on that wing.

  There were Kilkenny’s in every jail and no Governor wanted another one so him leaving anytime soon was unlikely. Occasionally they would do one for one swaps. You take our arsehole and we'll have yours. The fact that Kilkenny was still on remand meant there was no chance of him being transferred.

  He did get caught for his violent ways and on the odd occasion went to the block. The problem was they could only send him back to one place; the VP wing. Kilkenny would then decide who was responsible for his plight and they would suffer.

  The only person he left alone was my good self. I wasn’t sure why. The other cons looked to me for guidance and help. I was an experienced man with many a story. There was a cachet to being a Listener too. Perhaps it was because I had seen him at his most vulnerable.

  I remembered Doc’s words; ‘Better someone else than us.’ Back then, I thought they would come to haunt me. I was wrong, it was Doc who would have his own personal poltergeist.

  What kind of person hurts a dying man? That’s what happened though. It was as if Kilkenny blamed Doc for him being back. Doc wouldn’t grass, no one ever saw anything, and he carried on refusing to go to the healthcare ward. I helped when I could, gave him my food, or got his for him when he couldn’t get out of bed.

  I was the only friend he had. He was also the only man I’d ever really spoken to since I’d been inside. He helped me when I first arrived and his presence helped now too, despite the unbearable conditions he was under. Things actually became worse as a new officer started on the unit. Even the other members of staff called him Treacle. He depended on Kilkenny to maintain control.

  It was Treacle who told me my brother wanted to speak to me. I walked towards the office door assuming he was on the phone. Treacle shot me a look of confusion.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Waiting to speak to my brother.’

  ‘He’s there. At the gate.’

  Sure enough, my gaze followed his arm and there was Frank at the gates. Even though he was in normal clothing, and the bars were high, I still thought he looked diminished. I hadn’t seen him for over a year. It must have been a tough twelve months.

  ‘Frank. What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s a long story, Vinnie. One we both played a part in.’

  ‘Step away from the gate, please.’

  The most wretched of souls could tell Treacle was weak-minded. My brother didn’t even bother to respond to him. Treacle sneaked off to the office and left us alone.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You were aware I’d been having problems with the missus. Well, we had a few big drunken rows. I decided to leave. You know I’ve been there before, so I could see how it’d finish. I gave notice on my flat and when it was empty, I just moved back in there. That bitch reported me to the police. Told them I’d hit her.’

  It was a strange moment. I believed him but it would be wrong to say there was no doubt in my mind.

  ‘Vinnie, I didn’t do it.’

  Those were the words I’d chanted all those years ago. No one believed me, I suspect they may not trust him either.

  ‘I trust you, Frank. It must have been pretty bad for them to put you in jail.’

  ‘That was the thing. The case didn't get to court, but they still took my DNA. It’s been matched in connection with a murder.’

  My mind scrambled through the past, looking for deaths. Was it natural to wonder who we knew that died and could Frank have been the one to kill them. If my belief in him was pure, I would have just told him not to worry and we’d get him through this.

  Kilkenny arrived at the wing gate returning from a visit with his girlfriend. I knew that because he had been shouting about it for weeks. Doc was coming back from one of his many healthcare appointments at the same time. They both stood next to us. Kilkenny looked witheringly at Doc.

  ‘You still alive, you old pervert.’

  He kicked Doc's walking stick away so he had to hang on to the bars for support.

  ‘Do the world a favour and check-out.’

  Kilkenny’s smile widened as he saw the family resemblance between Frank and me.

  ‘Oh, lovely. Brother, is it? It will be fun for you to catch up. Perhaps you two sick fucks can get a pad together. I hear incest is beautiful.’

  With the arrogance of someone who was top dog, he put his face millimetres from mine. ‘Pathetic.’

  As the smell of strong coffee and recently eaten chocolate left my face and swaggered down the wing, I caught the look of horror on Frank’s face. He thought me pitiful, too.

  ‘Who was that?’

  ‘He’s a prick, but he’s too strong for us to do anything about it,’ Doc answered.

  Frank watched Kilkenny knock all the pool balls around the table to ruin the game that was being played as he walked past.

  ‘He’s one bloke. Use five of you, ten of you. Teach him a lesson.’

  The arrival of a massive man distracted us. Frank felt the presence and turned around. His eyeline was level with the name badge of Senior Officer Cave.

  ‘Are you on this wing?’

  ‘No. I’m just talking to…’

  The man didn’t wait for an answer. He put a huge hand on Frank’s arm and shoved him so violently that Frank had to run to stop himself falling over. Doc and I backed away from the gate.

  ‘You know the rules. No talking at the wing gates.’

  Cave walked off, steering Frank away like a farmer with a recalcitrant sheep. I went back to my cell to ponder Frank’s arrest. Doc went back to his cell to consider Frank’s revenge.

  Chapter 46

  Doc shuffled into my cell first thing the next morning like an old, old man. His helper assisted him; a spry fellow we called Joe Sparrow. The prison often used other inmates to help some of the infirm to get dressed each morning, and generally assist. I wouldn’t have thought they would have had Doc's plan in mind.

  Doc’s gasps echoed in the enclosed space, however, his eyes pierced the gloom.

  ‘Would you be our look out?’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Kilkenny. Actually, kill Kilkenny.’

  I didn’t need to ask if it was a joke. He had the squared jaw of a man on a certain path. I also didn’t need to ask why. A more worthless excuse for humanity I had yet to meet, and I had met them all.

  It had been a rough night. I could count on few friends and when things looked bad, it was a future with my brother that kept me going. The thought of him not being there when I got out was devastating.

  I also realised that, even though I considered us close, there were huge gaps where I had no idea where he lived and what he was up to. He could literally have done anything. I still couldn’t see Frank as someone capable of murder. He had a strong sense of right and wrong, on his own terms, but he knew taking a life was never the answer. I told Doc the same.

  ‘You’re not a kil
ler, Doc.’

  ‘No, but I know men who are.’

  ‘I don’t agree with taking someone’s life, for whatever reason.’

  ‘He will make my last few months here unbearable.’

  ‘He hasn’t done anything to me.’

  ‘I knew you’d say that. That’s why I wanted you to just be a lookout.’

  ‘How are you going to do it, you can barely hold that walking stick, never mind take down a man that size.’

  ‘I seen it done,’ said Joe, on the balls of his feet.

  ‘Numbers, we’ve got. He’s made our lives a misery and there’s plenty who would like some payback. His latest crime is going to get him a life sentence so he will be here forever. We’d never escape from him, and he would be free to bully us endlessly and relentlessly. Unless we take him.

  ‘We’ll get Kilkenny when he’s in the shower. He goes every Sunday morning when most people are on the exercise yard or still in bed. We’ll wait until Treacle is on duty and distract him in one of the cells. You know how he likes to look at the naked pictures some of the girlfriends send in.

  ‘He never supervises exercise so the other officer will be out the way. It’ll be just us and Kilkenny. We’ll throw on body after body until he’s as vulnerable as we’ve been. Then he'll understand how helpless and wretched we've felt under his unforgiving rule. I will deal the killing blow.’

  ‘What you going to do, cut his jugular?’

  I was being flippant. Doc smiled.

  ‘Good guess, but that wouldn’t work. I’m a doctor, remember. The jugular is for the movies. It’s a vein. The carotid, on the other hand is the artery that supplies blood to the brain. That’s the one you need for a quick job.

  ‘Actually, we have two carotid arteries and two vertebral arteries responsible for brain oxygenation. There is also a polygon of collateral circulation that provides blood to the brain if one of the arteries is lost.’

  He beamed at me. Weird how the mind works. I suppose that must have been some kind of stored memory from when he was at medical school. Fascinating, obviously, but a little unnecessary for the current audience.