Honour of the Line (14 page)

One of my district football team mates called Joe was the first to face the music. I didn’t have a clue what he had done but I got the impression all went fairly well when, 20 minutes later, he came out smiling as though he had just scored the winner against our arch rivals. Suddenly a real discomfort raged through my entire body and brain, I didn’t know whether to belch, fart or throw up and I was shaking like a leaf. When William Samuel McFirley was called out by the usher I began the long lonely walk into the court room accompanied by my Dad. It was almost certainly the same room as we had been into when we adopted Daisy but it felt spookily different. There were two uniformed policemen and three or four other people in suits plus the magistrates who were sitting at the head of the table. It became all too blatantly obvious that the lady magistrate in the middle of the two men was the chief. I recognised her from the local paper. Her picture was always in there when she was doing some good deed or other for the community. When my address was read out I noticed her look down her nose and immediately thought she had it in for me. Totally embarrassed I heard the charge read out which was made even worse when I had to have several more cases taken into consideration. How they came up with the original date of my sexual misdemeanour mystified me but I had no choice but to plead guilty. When asked if I had anything to say I just apologised profusely and guaranteed it would never happen again. I didn’t believe it myself so it was a fair bet they didn’t either! Dad got his chance to speak up for me and made a right pigs ear of things getting tongue tied with the speech he obviously hadn’t bothered to rehearse. If he had said nothing it would probably have been less damaging. Susan Page was then called in to give me a character reference and I could hardly believe what she was saying about me. She made me sound such a smashing chap and such a sporting inspiration to others at school that I thought that with a testament such as that I may be in line to be the next Archbishop, it was that good. After her speech Sue left the court and everybody had to stand while the magistrates adjourned to discuss whatever fate they found suitable. I somehow imagined them socialising over custard creams and a coffee whilst they pondered over how I would have to pay my debt to society.

After what seemed an eternity they returned and I had to stand to face the executioner. She said they needed medical reports so I assumed I would have to see my family doctor. However, she then said something which sounded like Commando Custard for 21 days. Harsh reality then set in, what she had in fact said was remanded in custody for 21 days where I would have medical assessments made on me. Why this was necessary I couldn’t begin to understand, I was regarded as fit enough for a decent football team to want me and all my downstairs bits were in fine working order, hence me being in this situation in the first place. Surely that was the reason I was in Court. A numbness came over me, which I suppose was due to shock, this couldn’t be happening to me. A policeman held me by the collar and led me from the court room past everybody who was waiting. Sue looked shocked and Jill was crying her heart out but both tapped me on the shoulder as I was led downstairs to a waiting police car which would take me to the local police station where they held everybody before getting a cattle wagon to take all of the days convicts to their respective holiday camps. Because of my tender age I wasn’t put in a cell just a dull looking room with a police lady who explained they would let Dad have 10 minutes with me and then get a dinner delivered from the local cafe. She told me I was being transferred to Lemworth Green Remand Centre, which was about 3 hours drive away but she wasn’t sure exactly where it was. Trying to make light of things I asked if I needed my swimming trunks or a bucket and spade which she seemed to find quite amusing but she also warned me not to try and be smart when I got there as those places were always full of really nasty individuals and that I wasn’t the worse criminal around. Try telling that to Angela’s parents I thought.

Dad had his few minutes with me but it served no real purpose as neither of us knew what to say. He was given the address of Lemworth Green but it meant nothing to either of us. Postcodes were still something of the future, the only clue we had was that it was in Oxfordshire. He said cheerio with a lump in his throat and I was near to tears and unable to answer. As he left the room he never looked back which really saddened me but I could understand why. Poor chap, he then had the awful task of telling Mum, Daisy and Grandad what had happened and he also had a days work to complete. Lunch was quite good considering the emotional mess I was in. Roast beef and spuds followed by rhubarb crumble and custard, I thought I would like to try that cafe one day in the future and amazingly, so far, I was managing to somehow distract my thoughts from what was about to happen.

There was a fair chance I would be a father before I tasted freedom again and what about poor Angela? I wondered how long it would be before she found out my fate. Also in my mind was what was going to happen after three weeks? Would I be released or would I get banged up for longer? The thoughts were terrifying.

Around 2.30 the Sergeant came in and broke the news to me that I was the only one that day to receive custodial remand so I would be taken in a normal police car with the police lady and a driver but not to try and leg it. Legging it had never entered my mind but I could picture it if I had, having some overweight Mr Plod trying to catch me. I would be able to lead them a merry dance but I needed to behave and get back home and return to normal as quickly as I possibly could. Soon after leaving the police station both officers started chatting to me and it seemed very unreal, almost as though we were all friends. The driver was a fairly young copper who admitted he wasn’t totally sure of the way and thought we may not arrive until after evening meal. He then took me totally by surprise by saying that as I came from the Arches, if I would give him my word not to try and run for it, he would trust me and they would shout me fish and chips to eat in the car with them, but the windows would have to be fully open so as the smell of fish and chips wouldn’t give the game away. I also had to promise to never say a word about this to anybody. The young copper told me his grandfather was an ex train driver who still lived in the Arches and he was very aware of our code of conduct. Tea was really quite nice, cod and chips and a bottle of pop but little was I to know this would be my last decent meal for a while.

Where the hell Lemworth Green was I didn’t know, but it was somewhere towards the South Midlands as whenever we passed a railway line it had Western Region trains on it. I also saw signs for Didcot and Swindon but they were several miles away according to the signs.

Finally we pulled up outside of a grand looking building in the middle of the countryside, it had a clock tower on the front and it looked like a palace. Sadly that’s where the similarities ended.

The lady police officer rang the shiny brass bell whilst the male bobby held me by the collar, but he was a really nice bloke and explained he had to be seen to be doing his job. As the door opened we were greeted by a man probably in his mid 50's, wearing normal civilian clothes. He signed the necessary paperwork and then assumed total responsibility for me. His name was Mr Charman and he took me straight to the Superintendents office which was along a cloistered walkway which made the place seem more like a monastery than a remand centre. It was a rectangular affair with rooms and the Super's office on one side and the dining hall and gymnasium on the other. Mr Jewson, the Superintendent, seemed half decent to me and he told me all of the staff were here to help not to punish which, at the time, was quite comforting. After looking at my paperwork he instructed me to tell the others on remand that I had stolen a car as sexual offenders got badly bullied and although my offence wasn't against a minor the other inmates would probably put two and two together and come up with ninety nine.

There was a strange silence about the place but then he pressed a button below his desk and a young inmate came in. Mr Jewson introduced him as Number 26 Chivers and told me I would be Number 17 McFirley and Chivers would take me on an induction as all the other lads were playing football. Chiv, as he told me to call him, was instantly likeable although he told me he was awaiting sentencing for burning down the house of a bloke who had messed his Mum around. He assumed he would go down for three years. Our first stop was at the sewing room to pick up my uniform consisting of khaki shorts and shirt and a bomber style jacket. This was followed by a trip to the showers then back to the sewing room to have my civvies taken care of. Clean clothes were on Saturdays and Wednesdays and I had already began to feel uncomfortable about walking round in smelly clobber. Next on the agenda was to see the nurse for a preliminary medical and Chiv warned me that she was different. Her name was Miss Warner. Chiv had to wait outside whilst I was examined. He had told me her nickname was Aggie Boot which made her seem ancient but in reality she was a really attractive woman, probably in her 30's with the longest legs you ever did see. Whilst filling in various forms she asked differing questions such as did I smoke, drink, take drugs or suffer from heart problems or blood pressure. I wondered whether this was all to do with my medical report for the court and I became particularly uncomfortable when she first touched my body, albeit it was only my shoulders. When she told me to strip off fully I was totally embarrassed and I could feel myself blushing. Suddenly she cupped my balls and asked me to cough and I could sense myself beginning to stiffen until, for no apparent medical reason, she pulled the end of my willy right back and it stood up like a pick axe handle. She showed no emotion whatsoever and I wondered whether she was going to hang the Union Jack on it and make me sing Land of Hope and Glory! For a full five minutes I stood there totally humiliated with the mother of all stiffies while she completed her notes, with just the occasional glance towards me. I so hoped this wouldn't go on my record.

After this humiliating ordeal Chiv told me what DG&T stood for and it wasn't a double gin and tonic. D stood for Dunks, which was the slang word for the toilets and he advised me to be in there as little as possible as that was where the smokers and lowlife congregated. G stood for Gear which was cigarettes, the currency of such places and T stood for Tankers, which were the boys who wet the bed. Apparently there were many of them and not just the younger ones. Chiv then told me why Miss Warner had the unofficial title of Aggie Boot. She was always the one to wake the dormitories first thing in the mornings. When she did so she made the boys pull their beds open so as she could inspect the sheets to see if anyone had ‘tankered' them. He also said that, as there were no girls around, if anyone needed to sort themselves out, to do it in a sock so as it wouldn't stain the sheets and cause further humiliation. He also said that she was a nurse not a doctor and her answer to everything was prescribing shit pills. I then asked him what the grub was like but rather ashamedly he said that I was unlikely to find out as the dining tables had eight boys on them and the table bully had all he wanted and by the time the younger ones got served they just got the crap nobody else wanted. He also said that on Saturdays, between 2.30 and 4 pm., we could have up to four people visiting and they were able to bring in sweets which were collected and shared out equally during the evening when we all went to the hall to watch a full length feature film. Next on my tour of hell were the common rooms. There were two of them. One for Numbers 1 to 23, one for Numbers 24 to 48 so Chiv and I would be in different blocks. Each common room had sofas, easy chairs, wooden chairs and a television that didn't work. There was also a record player and on one wall there was a row of lockers where you could supposedly keep things safe but most were broken and totally insecure.

Chiv went onto say how the days worked. On day one you were given a short test to assess your education level and there were four classes depending on ability levels. When my test was taken it was decided I was clever enough to be in the advanced class which made me shudder to think what the students in the bottom class were like and I then began to realise that the Arches kids, who were locally looked down upon, were not so uneducated as everyone thought. I found myself in the higher echelons of this somewhat antiquated education system and here was I looking down on some of the scummy lowlife that I was lodging with. I really began to hate myself but I hated this disgusting environment even more.

First thing in the mornings Aggie Boot called ‘wake up' at 6.30 and everybody had to stand by their stripped beds for her to inspect there was no tankering. Those that had offended had to carry their pissy sheets past the rest of the dormitory in shame and take them to the laundry. On day one new inmates were shown how to make their beds neatly with hospital corners and from that day forth, if they weren't made to standard, Aggie just pulled them apart again and again until she was satisfied the standard had been achieved. Following on from this, each block had cleaning chores to perform and, fortunately for myself, the other block had the dunks and showers on their list and we had both dormitories to sweep, dust and polish whilst on our knees. It seemed a good deal but because the toilets were so despicable, as were the wash rooms, nothing could cheer them up, whereas the dormitories were well cared for with highly polished floors, therefore a very high standard of cleaning was required.

Each inmate carried a card which had to be handed in at the end of the week. On this card staff could give plus points for good work and minus points for poor work or misbehaviour. These marks went on your final report. There were also yellow forms given for gross misconduct such as smoking or being caught with gear. This virtually closed the door on any hope of freedom. When the cleaning was up to standard it was off to the showers before going to the dining hall for breakfast. This usually consisted of cereal, followed by scrambled eggs, bacon and then toast with marmalade and a pot of tea. Food was given out fairly but that's exactly where the fairness stopped. The bullies made others give up anything they fancied and just left us poor souls with crusts or anything they didn't want. Our tables tough nut was the Mr Big of our block and his name was Norman Rogers and he came from Bermondsey. He was hated but nobody ever stood up to him for fear of getting beaten up. By all accounts he was a saint compared with his opposite from the other block whose name was Swinton.