Inseparable Bond (39 page)

Bell had been
transferred from kitchen and cleaning duties and was now in the
workshop with Spider, assembling Christmas crackers for a high
street chain. The workshop was divided into sections, the main area
being for assembling electrical items where prisoners with
experience in that field would work, and got paid more.

Prison
officers would patrol the work desks after they had searched you
going in, and a more thorough search on the way out in case you had
stolen a harmful weapon like a plastic toy from one of the
crackers.

Spider
whistled as he packed the Christmas crackers in their boxes, he was
in a happy mood. He was due out in five weeks, back home with his
wife and kids after five years inside. It was his third time in
prison, twice in Brixton and then here.

The bell
sounded and they all put down their tools and left the
workshop.

Bell and
Spider walked to their cells, passing the din of televisions and
stereos playing rap music as the West Indians danced clumsily to
the sounds.

Bradshaw was
watching television, so Bell grabbed his towel and went down to the
shower block. He felt dirty from the workshop and the stifling heat
on the wing. He showered with Spider, who had got there before him,
then went back to his cell.

He brushed his
teeth with the prison toothpaste, which tasted foul. No matter how
much he brushed, his mouth never felt clean. He rolled pieces of
wet paper into his ears, climbed onto his bunk and closed his
eyes.

Bell woke up
early and looked at his watch, it was 7.30. It was Saturday.

There was no
work at weekends, and you couldn’t eat your breakfast in your cell,
so he washed and shaved and put the television on low volume so as
not to disturb the sleeping beast on the top bunk.

The prison
officers soon started the roll call and Bell stood by the door as
the screw opened the spyglass to check the two in the cell.

Bradshaw woke
up at the sound of the spyglass closing and jumped off his bunk
like an athletic sprinter. He pushed past Bell and sat on the small
steel toilet where he groaned and moaned as he pissed.

The cell was
so poky that there was barely enough room for the two men to move
around.

The prison
regime was less restricted at weekends; most officers took the
weekend off, leaving only a skeleton staff. There was association
in the mornings and afternoons, but the cell doors were locked
earlier than normal. You could be locked up for up to twelve hours
at a time due to the staff shortage, even the prison gym was only
open for two hours a day.

At eight, Bell
went down to the food hall and stood in line with his tin tray.

The hall was
packed and the noise unbearable, but he had no alternative than to
eat with the rest of them.

The Pakistani
servers were given plenty of grief from the waiting inmates as they
dished out the food; one sausage, one piece of bacon, a spoonful of
baked beans, a scoop of scrambled egg, a tomato and half a slice of
fried bread. Bell had always enjoyed his breakfast but normally in
the privacy of his own cell.

Bradshaw
walked in to the food hall. He had got permission to use the gym as
soon as it opened. He had acquired some new clothes after paying
off one of the screws. He was wearing a white T-shirt with blue
shorts, socks and new trainers. He had his towel tucked under his
arm as he pushed his way through to the front of the line, looking
more like a well-off businessman going to his local gym than a
hardened con.

Bell took his
tray and sat alongside Jackson.

‘How’s it
going, Bell?’ he asked, spitting scrambled egg on the table as he
spoke.

‘I’m fine
thanks, Lester,’ Bell replied as he pushed his way along the
bench.

‘Are you in
the gym later?’ Jackson asked.

‘I’m going
down there as soon as I’ve had this, are you coming down?’ he
asked.

‘I’ll see you
in there,’ he replied.

Jackson was in
his early twenties, in for five years for thirty offences of
burglary and house breaking, but he had little in the way of money
to show for it. His savings had gone on paying his lawyer, and now
his wife and two kids relied on Income Support to exist.

He was one of
the kindest and least problematic prisoners on the wing. He was a
small thin guy, a bit like a rodent, his size being an advantage to
his housebreaking.

Bell rushed
his breakfast to get into the gym ahead of Bradshaw. It was only
open for a couple of hours today, anything above that is a
privilege, not a right.

Prisoners were
lining up being searched before they were let out in the exercise
yard as Bell pushed through on his way to the gym.

Almost every
seat was taken in the business class section of the aircraft.
George had offered Jennifer the window seat as he reached up to the
stowage bin to place her small cabin bag and raincoat next to
his.

Jennifer wiped
her brow with the hot towel the stewardess had offered her, as she
looked around at the wide awake young men with well-cut suits and
large gold wristwatches, shuffling papers they had taken from
expensive looking briefcases.

George tapped
at his tiny television screen, which was attached to his seat.

Jennifer
declined the glass of champagne being offered around the cabin, it
was far too early for alcohol, so she settled back into her blue
leather seat with a glass of orange juice.

The cabin crew
served a breakfast of bacon, mushrooms, tomato, sausage and
scrambled egg, but the colour of the eggs was a light green and
looked most unappetising but tasted fine.

The captain’s
carefully modulated voice recited the names of places that were
hidden far beneath the clouds. Food trolleys pushed by stewardesses
went past Jennifer as she heartily ate her good breakfast as she
listened to a baby screaming in the economy class cabin hidden
behind the curtain.

After the
breakfast table was cleared, she watched a film on her own
television screen located in the headrest of her seat. George had
fallen asleep, leaving most of his meal.

She lowered
her window blind to shield her eyes from the bright sun and the
glare coming off the white clouds. One by one the heads of
passengers lolled and bent as they tried to sleep in the brightly
lit cabin.

The aircraft
started its descent, bringing the eight hour flight to an end.

A well-spoken
voice announced instructions to the passengers to prepare
themselves for the landing. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we will shortly
be landing at New York, please adjust your seat to the upright
position in preparation for our landing,’ he instructed
sternly.

It was a
beautiful sunny afternoon as they departed the large British
Airways bird. The cabin crew looked immaculate as they smiled
broadly at the aircraft door.

George gripped
Jennifer’s arm as they walked along the covered walkway and along
the long arrivals hall to the immigration desk.

‘Now the worst
is to come, the line-up at immigration and customs can sometimes be
as long as the flight,’ he said, placing the cabin bags on the
floor, shuffling them with his feet as they moved along the line of
passengers towards the immigration desk.

It took well
over an hour standing in line, disconsolately kicking the bags
forward a few inches at a time.

They were
finally admitted to America and went through to the customs
hall.

George
confidently opened the taxi door for Jennifer as the driver threw
the small bags into the boot.

As the car
drove off, away from the hot and sticky atmosphere of the terminal
building, Jennifer gazed out of the window at the fast moving cars
speeding down the highway.

It was a
beautiful spring afternoon, the air was warm and the sky was a pale
shade of blue as they travelled at high speed, as if competing with
the other drivers.

Jennifer
looked through the front windscreen at the towering city ahead as
they passed modest little suburban houses clustered together
alongside the highway

The interior
of the taxi was thrown into darkness as they drove under the tunnel
and out the other side into the busy streets of New York.

The taxi
pulled up sharply outside the Holiday Inn, where a smart hotel
porter opened the car door while the taxi driver removed the bags
from the boot.

The noisy
downtown streets were crowded with warm air rising from the
pavement as they pushed their way through the crowds and into the
hotel lobby.

They were
allocated bedrooms next to each other. Jennifer’s room was huge
with an outlook onto the busy Lexington Avenue. She filled the deep
bath with hot water and relaxed in the tub with sweet smelling bath
suds reaching up to her chin.

This was her
first visit to America. George had been to New York with his wife
and family a few years earlier, so he had a reasonably good
knowledge of the city.

George had
suggested the weekend away after seeing a budget offer in the local
newspaper, although Jennifer had insisted she paid her own fare and
accommodation.

It was only
3.30 in New York, 8.30 in Fleetwood with the five hour time
difference. She was already feeling tired but too excited to climb
into the inviting bed, although it had been a long day.

They had
agreed to meet in the hotel lobby in an hour’s time, after
refreshing themselves after the long flight and lengthy wait at
immigration.

George was
sitting in a leather chair as Jennifer walked out of the elevator.
She was surprised to see him wearing a pair of white trousers and
an open-neck bright red shirt, as she had only seen him in
conservative clothes, and always with a jacket.

They pushed
their way through the crowds of well-dressed men with briefcases
and smart ladies with their designer shopping bags, rushing around
in all directions. The crowd seemed to disperse as quickly as they
had arrived, as Jennifer and George arrived at the entrance gate to
Central Park.

They walked
arm in arm under the over hanging trees, over the small bridges and
sat on a park bench looking over at the boating lake as youngsters
raced past on their skate boards. The sun was still high and warmed
their faces as they sat in the quiet and peaceful atmosphere with
the dull sounds of activity coming over from the busy city which
surrounded them. They walked further into the park as the youngster
showed their well rehearsed manoeuvres around them on their
skateboards.

A cold chilly
breeze made Jennifer shiver as the sun disappeared behind a tall
building, the trees started to rustle and dirt was whirling around
her feet.

They walked
back onto the crowded streets of commuters, disappearing down the
steps to the subway trains to take them to their suburban
homes.

It was past
six when they arrived back at the hotel. George was looking drawn
and tired after his flight, and it was 11 o’clock back in
England.

They decided
to have a glass of wine in the hotel cocktail bar, neither of them
felt like a large meal after their breakfast and lunch on the
aircraft.

George gave
her a kiss on the cheek as they went to their bedrooms for an early
night in order to recharge themselves for a day of sight-seeing the
next day.

They seemed to
enjoy each other’s company and had never had a disagreement since
they first met in the charity shop eight months earlier.

Jennifer slept
well and after a refreshing shower, she went down to the
restaurant. George was already helping himself to the buffet
display.

‘Good morning,
my dear, did you sleep well?’ he asked, looking at her light blue
summer dress and down at her sensible grey walking shoes.

‘Yes, I did,
George, I slept like a log,’ she replied as she picked up a hot
plate.

They walked
back to the table as the waitress was delivering coffee and a rack
of toast.

‘Where would
you like to go today, Jennifer?’ he asked.

‘Well, I think
it’s best if I leave all that to you, you know the city and the
best places to go, we’ve already seen Central Park, which was
delightful,’ she replied.

‘I think you
should see the Statue of Liberty, that’s what everyone does,’ he
said.

‘Is that far
from here?’ Jennifer enquired, as she started to eat her
breakfast.

‘Yes, it’s at
the other end of the city. We have to get a subway to Wall Street
then walk over to the ferry, which takes us over to Liberty
Island,’ he said, confidently.

They finished
their breakfast and Jennifer went back to her room for her
raincoat.

The subway
train was crowded. They were jostled and pushed along the platforms
at either end, George tightly gripping Jennifer’s arm. They walked
up from the hot and sweltering underground and into the fresh
spring air warmed by a bright sun and cloud-free sky.

The ferry was
full of Far Eastern tourists, weighed down with their heavy cameras
around their necks, frantically snapping photographs of everything
that moved.

Jennifer
looked up in amazement at the towering statue and over the stretch
of water to the impressive city of tall skyscrapers standing
majestically side by side, the sun glistening on their steel frames
and glass window. Ferries disturbed the water, going backwards and
forwards bringing droves of tourists to see the splendour of the
statue.

George was
sitting back on the bench looking at Jennifer’s wide eyes as she
absorbed the sights. Jennifer had thought he was looking tired and
put it down to the long flight and the sudden time change, but he
still looked very distinguished in his grey lightweight suit and
well-polished shoes.