Bang Up: Prison walls don't just keep criminals in, the keep the outside world at bay (9 page)

Mark kept his eyes on the screen and sighed. “I’ll go down to the block later and have a chat with him. Not like it’s going to make much difference but I’ll have to show willing won’t I?”

Smithy sat at his desk and flicked through his emails too. He raised his head and studied Mark for a lot longer than he needed to. He was quiet, something was troubling him. “So, how’s things with the missus? Has she stopped moaning yet?”

Mark went bright red. He hated talking about his home life and very rarely told anyone about his problems. Smithy was his pal though and they’d been friends for a long time. He had to get it off his chest, it was dong his head in now. He sat back in his chair and yawned. “It’s shite, Smithy. On my life, all that woman does is moan, moan, moan. Twenty-four hours a fucking day she’s at it! I can’t be arsed with her anymore. Putting a ring on her finger was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. From the moment she got out of bed this morning, she’s been on at me. I swear, it’s non-stop. I was going to crack her one. On my life, she just presses my buttons. I’ll be leaving her soon, then she’ll see.”

Smithy stretched his arm out and patted his shoulder. He was a married man himself and could identify with his pal. “Surely, she’s not that bad, what’s she whining over now anyway? Did you forget to put the bins out again?”

Mark’s head sank and a wave of sadness came over him. He took a few seconds to answer. “No, I wish it was just that. I’ve fucked up with the mortgage payments again. You know what I’m like, I always borrow a few quid from it and put it back before she knows it’s missing. But, I’m up shit-street now. I went in the bookies didn’t I and blew the fucking lot.”

Smithy was shocked. He knew his pal liked a bit of a gamble every now and then but he didn’t realise how far he’d got into it. Smithy had a good heart and hated to see anyone with money problems. “I can sort you out until you get on your feet, Mark. Don’t fuck about with your home payments mate. Imagine if you lost it, what then ay?”

Mark knew he was right and for the last few nights he’d been laid in bed asking himself the same questions. He’d be homeless and living on the street for sure. There was no way his mother would have him back home, no way in this world. And then there was his marriage; that would surely be over, although maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing - every cloud had a silver lining. Deep down though, it would always be just one more bet, one last scratch card, one more spin of the wheel. This man would never learn. He was addicted to gambling, there were no two ways about it. Mark bit hard on his bottom lip and his pride was hurt. He hated admitting he was on his arse to anyone. He had no other option than to accept his mate’s offer. He was fucked no matter which way he looked at it. Mark chewed on his bottom lip and kept his eyes to the table. “If you could help me out Smithy, I’d be grateful. I’ve got no one else to ask, otherwise I would. I’ll have it back to you by the end of next month. I’m keeping away from the bookies from now on. It’s a fool’s game.”

Mark was lying of course. He even believed his own story. His mother had already told him that he wasn’t getting another penny out of her, he’d fleeced her already, took her for every penny she had left. This was something he wasn’t proud of. Once his father Jack died there was quite a bit of money left to Sheila. She’d never been used to money and it scared her. Old people were like that and if she had her way, she would have stuffed it under her mattress. There was no way Sheila was going to spend any of her fortune. The cash was just sitting there in the bank going to waste. She could have gone on holiday, spent time doing things she’d dreamt about but with her husband six foot under, all she ever spoke about was being in the grave next to him. Sheila had basically given up once Jack was gone and every day she just sat in her chair wishing her life away.

Mark had tried to help, he come up with the idea of finding an investment for her and double her money, he said. Sheila took him at face value and let him have over ten thousand pounds to put into something for her. What a daft sod she was! What planet was she on thinking this half-wit could ever manage money! Mark did look into making an investment for her at first and he even went to see her bank manager with her but that was just a cover for his gambling habit. It was all he could think of; the roulette wheel, the gee-gees and the poker table. He already owed thousands to the local loan sharks and to pay them off seemed his only option. It was a no-win situation. The people he owed money to had told him to pay up or his balls were getting cut off, simple as. And they meant it, too - there was no fucking about with these people. Mark had no other option so he used his mother’s money to pay off his debts. After all, he treasured his balls. But now he was short and had to find Sheila’s cash to invest and there was only one way he could get it back for her. For weeks he sat studying the horses and not once did he ever win a carrot, the plonker. The daft bastard blew every single penny of it, there was hardly anything left bar the odd tenner. He couldn’t pay his old queen back. Sheila could read her son like a book and when the time was right she confronted him about the money he was supposed to have invested for her. She smelt a rat. Mark denied it at first but after hours of tears and arguing he finally admitted to her that he’d lost it all. He’d blown it, every single penny. Sheila collapsed when he told her the truth and she was rushed into hospital with an angina attack. He never told anybody about the money he’d had off his mother, not even his siblings. If they had known he would have been banished from the family circle, never to return. This was his secret and he’d pleaded with his mother never to tell anyone. Even to this day he pledged he would pay her back, but as yet he hadn’t managed to give her back a penny of what he’d wasted and now he was heading into deep shit once again.

*

Mark peeped through the glass hatch and clocked Mikey lying on his bed trying to get some shut eye. He was still awake because he was flinching. If he could have his way he would have kicked ten tons of shit out of this smart-arse. He was in the mood to smash someone’s head in right now and if this prick gave him any shit he couldn’t promise that he would hold his temper. Mark had had a shit day and nothing was going right for him. It was just going from bad to worse. Slipping his key into the lock he opened the door and stood at the doorway with his notes stashed under his arm. There was no way he was going inside yet, he stood rustling his paperwork.

Mikey lifted his head from the pillow and clocked the screw stood there. Nodding his head slowly he rolled onto his side and scratched at his nuts. “What’s up boss?”

Mark licked his dry, cracked lips and took a deep breath. This was one cocky cunt, who thought he was untouchable. “I’m your personal officer and I’ve come down here to have a chat with you. Procedure it is, nothing more.”

Mikey rolled onto his back and yawned. He was at it again, he was doing himself no favours. “And, what, you think you’ve got the answer to all my problems do you? Do yourself a favour and fuck off and leave me alone. I’ve had all this head-fuck stuff before and it doesn’t work?”

Mark hated this inmate with a passion. He had to hold it together though, be professional. His knuckles went white as he gripped his pen tightly and his chest rose at speed. Mark kicked his shiny boot against the bottom of the door slowly. There was silence. Mikey was on one and he was putting the world to rights. In his eyes he was never in the wrong and he was always right. “I mean, do you think I’m some kind of muppet who’s going to let some twat talk to me like that. The prick got what was coming to him and when I see the wanker again, I’m going to waste him properly. He got off lightly if you ask me. I could have done a lot worse.”

Mark scratched the top of his head and knew this inmate was going to take some hard graft if he was ever to get on board. Mark changed the subject and tried to calm him down. He’d already been on a warning about his work and didn’t need his collar felt again. “I need a quick meeting with you. Just a few basic details to start with, just stuff so I can get to know you better.”

Mikey chuckled, he was out to cause trouble. You could see it in his eyes. He lay with his hands shoved down the front of his pants. “Listen, fuck off out of my face and go and see some other cunt who will listen to you. Stop trying to be a do-gooder.”

Mark gripped the paperwork tightly in his hand. He twisted his head behind him and checked nobody was listening and edged closer in the cell. He was on a short fuse and any second now he was going to blow. His expression changed and his teeth gritted tightly together. “Oi, fucking mouth almighty, cut the bullshit. Just let’s tick the boxes and I’ll leave you alone. Do you think I give a flying fuck if you change or not? You’re just another number to me. Just another fucking head case who thinks they can beat the system.” They locked horns and neither of them were budging.

Mikey sneered over at him. “Nar, sack it. I’m in no mood today. Close the door and fuck off out I’m getting my head down.”

Mark sprinted over to the bed and gripped Mikey by his throat, he was choking him. Nose to nose they were. “I said, get fucking ready before I lose my rag with you.”

Mikey was shaken. Never in his life had he met a screw with balls like this. Usually they only give it the big one when they were team-handed but never when they were alone. This was a whole new ball game. Mikey had met his match. Mark backed off and stood at the door again. He was game and if this inmate gave him one bit of shit he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. Mikey flicked his body up from the bed and admitted defeat. He would have to watch this one, he was dangerous and could stitch him up given the chance. That’s how it worked behind these walls, the officers could plant stuff on inmates and have them charged with it within a blink of an eye, shady bastards they were when their cages were rattled. Mikey bounced towards him. “Yeah, come on then, but if you start chatting shit trying to fill my head with goals and dreams I’m coming straight back here.”

Mark watched the inmate walk past him and nodded his head slowly. He was confident now and knew he had the upper hand. Mark sat down at the table and joined the inmate. Usually, this kind of meeting took over an hour but he was sure it wouldn’t last longer than thirty minutes. It was just a paper exercise in his eyes and knew he was pissing in the wind if he thought this lad would cooperate with him. Mikey rested his head in his hands and looked around the room, clicking his tongue against his bottom lip. Everywhere in the jail was more or less the same colour; pale yellow, supposedly a calming neutral shade. Mark opened his paperwork and picked up his blue biro. Twisting it around in his fingers he looked Mikey straight in the eyes. “So, tell me about yourself. How have you ended up in the slammer?”

Mikey gripped his chin in his hands and stroked a single finger slowly over his stubble. Why did everyone always think they could get inside his head and work him out? He was wise to them now, wary of what they were after. “I just have, haven’t I? There’s no real reason. I just got nicked. Wrong time, wrong place, you know the crack.”

Mark knew his job was to get this criminal to open up. He’d had hours of training and course after course to make sure he got the results he needed. He reminded himself of the rules and sat back in his seat in a relaxed manner. “Do you think this is your life now? I mean, in and out of jail?”

“I’m not arsed to tell you the truth. Life is life and I have to do what’s needed to get by. Stuff costs money doesn’t it?”

Mark scribbled down on his notepad and continued. “You can change, there are people here to help you if you want it?”

Mikey had heard the same script all his life. His probation officer, school teachers, career officers, they had all tried to change him before. They could take a running jump if they thought he would ever lead a normal boring life. He was who he was and he was happy with that. Mikey was agitated and his patience was running thin. “I don’t know what’s written down on that paper there, pal. I’m just another number to you lot, remember that. I don’t want any sympathy but don’t judge me until you have walked a day in my shoes. Since I’ve been able to talk I’ve had to more or less fend for myself, nobody was there for me. I had to learn the hard way. Do you know how it feels to not know where your next meal is coming from?” Mikey was opening up, what was up with him? Mark was sorry he’d opened his mouth but the lad was right. How could he judge him when he knew nothing about his personal background?  Mikey sniffed hard and for a split second his eyes clouded over but he switched in seconds and his guard was back up again. He wanted out of there. “This is a waste of time. Just write on my notes I said ‘get to fuck’. I’m sure they won’t be arsed.”

Mark carried on writing, his head was down and every now and then he lifted his head up and shot a look at the convict. Mikey rocked back in his seat and stretched his arms above his head. The door opened and Smithy stuck his head inside and whistled over to Mark. “Are you nearly ready pal? I could do with your help on the wing. We need to spin two pads over. I’ve got a bit of information that there’s a few mobile phones in there.”

Mikey was alert, this was crucial information that he shouldn’t have heard. Mark slammed the file shut and nodded his head. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there with you. I’m nearly done here anyway.”

Smithy closed the door behind him and Mikey sat forward in his seat. Here it was, time to test the water. “Someone’s going to be gutted. A phone is like gold in here. Poor fuckers.”

Mark knew the score with parcels being dropped in the jail and gave a cunning smirk as he rubbed his hands together. “Well, that’s the way the cookie crumbles isn’t it. You live by the sword, you die by it.”

Mikey quickly twisted his head about and made sure the coast was clear, it was now or never. “There is good money to be made if you fancy earning a bit of extra cash. A mobile phone can sell in here for about seven ton. But if it’s an I-phone you’re talking more. Do you fancy it or what? Call it a business venture…” Mikey chuckled and watched him from the corner of his eyes. Mark swallowed hard and small beads of sweat were forming on his brow. He knew more than anyone how much money could be earned if he was a bent screw, but did he trust Mikey? Mark stood up from the table and didn’t answer him. There was no way he was letting himself get pulled in to this vicious circle, he had enough troubles of his own.