Purgatory: A Prison Diary Volume 2 by Jeffrey Archer Page A

blackcurrant
juice. The only luxury left. At least I’m still losing weight.
6.30 pm
    Exercise: I walk around the perimeter fence with Jimmy and
Darren. Just their presence stops most inmates from giving me a hard time.
7.00 pm
    I finally manage a shower. I then put on a prison tracksuit,
grey and baggy, but comfortable. I decide to call Mary. There is a queue for
the phone as this is the most popular time of day. When it’s my turn, I dial
the Old Vicarage only to find that the line is engaged.
    I spot Dale hanging around in the corridor, obviously
wanting to speak to me. He tells me that the money hasn’t arrived. I assure him
that if it isn’t in the morning post, I’ll chase it up. I try Mary again –
still engaged. I go back to my cell and prepare my desk for an evening session.
I check my watch. It’s 7.55 pm. I’ll only have one more chance. Back to the phone. I call Cambridge. Still
engaged. I return to my cell to find an officer standing by the door.
I’m banged up for another twelve hours.
8.00 pm
    I read through today’s script and then prepare outline notes
for the first session tomorrow, to the accompaniment of two West Indians
hollering at each other from cells on opposite sides of the wing. I remark to
Jules that they seem to be shouting even louder than usual. He resignedly
replies that there’s not a lot you can do about window warriors. I wonder.
Should I push my luck? I go over to the window and suggest in a polite but firm
voice that they don’t need to shout at each other. A black face appears at the
opposite window. I wait for the usual diatribe.
    ‘Sorry, Jeff,’ he says, and continues the conversation in a
normal voice. Well, you can only ask.

DAY 28 – WEDNESDAY 15 AUGUST 2001
6.04 am
    I wake, only to remember where I am.
8.15 am
    Breakfast: when I go down to the hotplate to collect my
meal, Dale gives me a nod to indicate that the money has arrived.
8.30 am
    Phone Mary to be told that she’s doing the
Today programme with John Humphrys tomorrow morning and will be visiting me on
Friday with Will. As James is on holiday, she suggests that the third
place is taken by Jonathan Lloyd. He wants to discuss my new novel, Sons of
Fortune, and the progress of the diary. As I am allowed only one visit a
fortnight, this seems a sensible combination of business and pleasure, although
I will miss not seeing James.
    Phone Alison, who says she’ll have finished typing Volume
One – Belmarsh: Hellby Wednesday (70,000 words) and will post it to me
immediately. She reminds me that from Monday she will be on holiday for two
weeks. I need reminding. In prison you forget that normal people go on holiday.
    When I return to my cell, I find David (whisky bootlegger)
sweeping the corridor. I tell him about my water shortage. He offers me a large
bottle of diet lemonade and a diet Robinsons blackcurrant juice in exchange for a £2 phonecard, which will give him a 43p
profit. I accept, and we go off to his cell to complete the transaction. There
is only one problem: you are not allowed to use phonecards for trading, because
it might be thought you are a drug dealer. Each card has the prisoner’s
signature on the back of it, not unlike a credit card (see plate section).
    ‘No problem,’ says David (he never swears). ‘I can remove
your name with Fairy Liquid and then replace it with mine.’
    ‘How will you get hold of a bottle of Fairy Liquid?’
    ‘I’m the wing cleaner.’
    Silly question.
10.00 am
    My pad-mate Jules has begun his education course today (life
and social skills) so I have the cell to myself. I’ve been writing for only
about thirty minutes when my door is unlocked and I’m told the prison probation
officer wants to see me. I recall Tony’s (absconding from Ford Open Prison)
words when I was at Belmarsh: Don’t act smart and find yourself on the wrong
side of your probation officer, because they have considerable sway when it
comes to deciding your parole date.’
    I’m escorted