The Mattress: The Glasgow Chronicles 4 (24 page)

Chapter Thirty One

Christmas Day 1971

  The Reverend Christopher Marion hid been apprehensive before the service began.  He knew that he shouldnae be allowing himself tae fall in tae the trap ae playing the numbers game, but he’d prayed that his heid coont this year wid exceed the previous Christmas’s turn oot.  When the senior officer hid opened the door, he’d looked anxiously up fae the pulpit.  His heart hid fluttered as he coonted the heids.  Efter the last and final prisoner hid entered, he’d relaxed.  No coonting the accompanying officers, he’d hid thirteen inmates, maist sitting sullenly in the fifth and sixth rows fae the front, clearly glad tae be oot ae their cells.  Fur some, the number thirteen might be viewed as unlucky, bit fur him, it wis two mair than the previous Christmas ae 1970.  He’d been in Polmont fur three years noo and year oan year, he’d increased his Christmas morning attendance numbers.  He could tell fae the smirks oan the faces ae the SO and the other three escorts that they clearly wurnae as impressed as he’d been.

  “All present and correct, Reverend Marion,” the SO hid shouted up at him fae the back ae the hall, before slamming the door shut.

  Why dae prison officers always hiv tae slam the doors shut insteid ae closing them o’er quietly, he’d wondered, as the congregation sat there fidgeting in expectation.

  “We shall now start with ‘Oh Come all Ye Faithfull,” he’d announced wae a big grateful smile, as the flock shuffled up oan tae their feet.

  The previous day...Christmas Eve...he’d gone tae the social work office, efter hivving been refused access tae the main wings ae the establishment fur security reasons.  News hid reached him that an inmate hid been stabbed in the pallet workshop that efternoon and he’d wanted tae enquire as tae whit the latest news wis regarding the seriousness ae the assault and if there wis anything he could dae tae assist.

  “He’s been taken tae Falkirk Royal Infirmary, Reverend.  Ah widnae expect tae hear anything back before the morra.  He lost a lot a blood,” Sandy Mackay, the senior social worker on duty, hid informed him.

  “Will he live?”

  “Ah’m no sure.”

  “Do they know who did it?”

  “No yet.  The whole place is oan lock-doon.  It wis obviously wan ae the wans that worked there, bit fae whit Ah kin gather, none ae them ur saying a word.  Ah suppose that’s tae be expected in a place like this.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The boys they send tae the pallet shoap ur the dregs...the wans that ur no tae be trusted and need watching, day and night...the wans ye cannae turn yer back oan, so tae speak.”

  “I see.  And the boy that was stabbed?  Was he a...dreg?”

  “Don’t get me wrang, Reverend.  Ah never meant whit Ah said tae sound as if they’re aw no-hopers who don’t hiv feelings or anything like that.  Ye know whit Ah mean though?  They’re the wans that wullnae or jist cannae abide by the rules, nae matter how much time ye put in wae them.  They jist cannae help themselves...it’s whit’s inside them before they arrive here.  By putting them aw thegither, it saves a lot ae grief fur everywan else, including the other inmates.”

  “And the boy who was stabbed?  What’s his story then?”

  “Oh, him?  Ah wis jist reading his file before ye arrived.  His name’s Samuel Smith...been in and oot ae institutions since he wis a wee snapper.  Bit ae a shame really.  Fae whit Ah kin gather, his prospects could probably hiv been a bit better if the circumstances hid been different when we first goat oor mitts oan him.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, in 1965, when he wis ten, he came intae the system oan a Care and Protection order.  His parents hid been killed in a road traffic accident and he’d gone tae live wae his grandparents.  They couldnae look efter him very well and he stoapped turning up fur school.  Efter repeated warnings fae The School Board hidnae improved the situation, wan ae ma colleagues in Kirkintilloch recommended that he be taken intae care fur his ain protection.  There wisnae any history ae criminality or domestic violence in the family, so she recommended Care and Protection, due tae his vulnerability.  No long efter his admission, he absconded fae The Grove, or Larchgrove Remand Home tae you and me, wae a right heid-the-baw, who’d a string ae convictions the length ae his erm, even though he wis only a year or two aulder than Smith.  According tae his background papers, Smith wis oan the run, wandering aboot Glesga, fur months oan end and ended up jist as feral as the wan he fuc...er, ran aff wae...and, well, the rest is history.  Efter that wee jaunt ae his, there wis nothing we could dae tae influence or save him fae a life ae crime, despite oor best efforts.  His record and polis intelligence sheet reads like a walking crime spree, so it dis.”

  “But surely the staff in the pallet shop would’ve picked up that this incident was going to happen...that something was brewing?” 

  “No really.  Normally that wid be the case, bit he’d jist been let loose fae the digger this morning, so whitever the problem wis, it must’ve either been a spur ae the moment thing or a long standing grievance that we don’t know aboot.”

  “Digger?”

  “Solitary confinement.  Himsel and another even bigger no-hoper pal ae his glued up aw the cell door locks in South Wing a week ago.  Ah heard it cost an absolute erm and a leg tae replace aw the locks, so it did.  Him and that pal ae his wur supposed tae be getting oot the day, bit the baith ae them lost a week’s remission.  So, insteid ae getting hame, he ended up in the digger and noo he’s spending Christmas in intensive care...if he lives.”

  “And the other boy?”

  “Taylor...Johnboy Taylor…thinks he’s a bit ae a fly-man, that wan.  He’s still in the digger.  While Smith goat seven days in the chokey, Taylor goat fourteen, because he wis seen as the ringleader.  It’ll mean he’ll be getting released straight fae solitary tae the train station oan Hogmanay.  As far as Ah know, he’s the only wan locked up in there jist noo.”

  “So, have you visited him since he was locked up or since the stabbing incident?”

  “Whit fur?”

  “You don’t think he’ll need some sort of, er, support, or counselling to, er, come to terms with what’s happened to his friend?”

  “Reverend, Ah’m sorry...Ah don’t mean tae be cheeky or anything, bit look at the pile ae folders Ah’ve goat sitting oan this desk ae mine.  These ur aw boys and their families that Ah’m trying tae deal wae and get through before Ah finish up fur Christmas the day at five o’clock.  Ah’ve spent the last two days trying tae get aw ma paperwork up tae date oan account ae the boy that went and goat himsel electrocuted in the kitchens the other day there.  The Safety Board people hiv been crawling aw o’er the place…including us.  Ah informed The AG that we hivnae hid any dealings wae the deid boy since he wis admitted, bit he telt me that because it’s a fatality, they’re looking at aw aspects.  The boy supposedly telt Auld Man Wilson, the SO in charge ae the kitchens, that he’d been getting electric shocks aff ae the new spud machine that he’d been using aw week, bit his complaints hid been ignored.  Ah spoke tae Taffy Milne, wan ae the other SOs yesterday, and he wis saying that that wis a load ae shi...er, tripe.  The safety people ur trying tae dig aboot fur evidence tae see if the boy hid reported it anywhere else.”

  “Do they know what happened?”

  “Aw Ah’ve heard is that the boy went tae unscrew the plate lid oan the big tottie peeler, efter the spuds hid been peeled, jist before the whole kitchen lit up wae a blue flash.  It sounds tae me as if the machine hidnae been earthed properly or a bare wire fae inside it somewhere must’ve touched the machine casing itsel.  Whitever it wis, they couldnae revive him and he wis deid before he reached Falkirk Royal Infirmary.  So, as fur being distracted by offering support tae somewan like Taylor?  Well, even if Ah wanted tae, which Ah don’t, ma priority is tae be here tae make sure everything is as it should be before the Safety Board people arrive and start sniffing aboot.  Anyway, Ah’ve awready met wae Taylor twice since he arrived in Polmont.  The first time wis when he arrived.  It wis like talking tae that wall behind ye.  Ah wis lucky tae get a grunt oot ae him, even when Ah wis jist trying tae get him tae confirm that name ae his tae me.  Ah wis well-warned, mind ye.  Oan the morning efter his arrival, the psychiatrist and him hid a wee run-in.  When he wis asked why he wis so anti-social towards the staff, Taylor replied that he didnae understaun why Dr Baird hid asked him that, as he hidnae met many ae the staff, since he’d only arrived at hauf six the night before.  He pointed tae the clock up oan the wall above Dr Baird and reminded him that it wis only twenty past nine in the morning.  That, Reverend, is Johnboy Taylor,” Sandy Mackay hid explained and baith him and the minister couldnae resist smiling.

  “Maybe he had a point?” The Reverend hid said, as their grins goat broader.

   “Aye, Ah know.  His file says that he kin be pretty sharp when he wants tae be. The second time Ah met him, wis when Ah informed him that his auld granny hid croaked it.  Noo, normally when that happens, some ae the boys in here end up breaking doon greeting, before being locked up fur their ain good.  There’s other wans who want tae know when the funeral is and if there wid be any chance that they could get oot, under escort, tae attend.  Maist ae the time, that wid be fine, as it breaks the routine and the monotony ae being in here fur months oan end withoot any family contact.  Wae Taylor, Ah informed him ae whit the score wis wae that granny ae his and that wis that...nothing.  Ah also informed him that if he wanted tae apply tae go tae the funeral, Ah’d see whit Ah could dae.”

  “And?”

  “And?  And nothing.  That wis the last time Ah clapped eyes oan him.  He’s wan ae they boys that jist refuses tae recognise or respect authority in any shape, form or size.  He’d rather stay in here than get oot fur the day, jist tae prove a point.  It wid never enter his thick heid tae even think ae asking fur anything fae us.  Tae be honest, Ah’m glad.  Ah’ve goat enough oan ma plate helping those who want tae be helped, withoot hivving tae be wasting ma time wae somewan like him.”

  “But it’s Christmas, Sandy.  No-one deserves to be alone at this time of the year, particularly when that person is our responsibility and under our care.”

  “Ah kin see where ye’re coming fae, Reverend, bit if Ah wis you, Ah’d leave well alane.  Ah hear whit ye’re saying, bit Taylor is happy where he is…take ma word fur it.  Dr Baird knew exactly whit he wis talking aboot regarding Taylors anti-social attitude towards authority…and that, by the way, includes people like us.”

  “Well, I’ll pop in after the service tomorrow morning.  At least it’ll show him that someone cares enough on Christmas Day to ask if he’s all right.  I think we need to reach out to these youths.”

  “Reverend, see the boy Smith that goat stabbed?  His nickname’s Silent.  Believe you me, Ah goat mair oot ae him, despite his well-deserved reputation fur nae talking tae anywan, than Ah did oot ae Taylor.”

  When he’d informed the principle and senior prison officers that he intended tae visit Taylor in the solitary confinement block, at the end ae the service, their eyebrows hid shot up.

  “Follow me, Reverend,” the SO hid grumbled efter the service.

  When he’d followed the SO and another prison officer alang tae the solitary confinement block, he hidnae known whit tae expect.  In the three years he’d been at Polmont, he’d never visited it.  He didnae know why.  The cell block wis in the same vicinity as the reception and the doors leading tae the arrivals wing.  Stepping through the door leading fae the ootside corridor hid been like stepping intae another world.  A dimly lit, extremely narrow passage ae aboot twenty feet in length and three or four feet wide, led tae a thick oak, heavily steel-studded, locked door.  Tae the familiar sound ae jangling keys, the door hid been unlocked and pushed open tae reveal a further twenty feet or so ae corridor.  Other than oan his first day efter arriving in Polmont, he’d never been particularly nervous, bit hid nearly jumped oot ae his shoes when the prison officer behind him hid slammed and locked the studded door behind them.  He immediately felt a wave ae claustrophobia take o’er his brain and wis glad when, at the end of the corridor, they’d come tae a steel-barred gate.  Wae mair jangling ae keys, the SO hid unlocked it, bit then hid created a mini pile-up when the door swung open towards them, forcing the three ae them tae take a few steps backwards.

  “Jist in case ae a hostage situation, Reverend.  It means they cannae stack up anything against the gate fae the inside,” the SO hid explained.

  When he’d entered, whit could only be described as a wide corridor hid stood before them, measuring aboot ten feet wide by roughly forty feet long.  Oan the right-haun side, there wis a row ae cells, whilst oan the other, there wis an opening containing wan sink, a shower, a toilet cubicle withoot a door or curtain and a single water tap o’er a bowl, presumably used as a slop-oot fur the prisoners tae empty their chamber pots.  Two-thirds ae the way alang the row of cells, he’d spotted a solitary folded up mattress wae a blanket, pillow and whit looked like a pair ae pyjamas sitting oan tap ae it, ootside wan ae the cell doors.  The silence, apart fae whit sounded like the hum ae a boiler and the sounds made by the rustling ae their clothes, hid been deafening.  Efter whit the SO hid jist come oot wae when he’d opened the gate, he simply couldnae fathom oot whit could be effectively used tae stack up against the gate, should a riot or a break-oot ever occur.

  “This way, Reverend,” the SO hid said, smiling, staunin aside tae let him enter the dimly-lit corridor before he wis led forward tae the cell beside the mattress.