Simon Tolkien - The King of Diamonds

‘Hope we’re lucky, you mean?’

‘Yeah, and stop sounding like a doubting Thomas all the time, okay? It’s getting on my nerves.’

It was unlike Eddie to sound so irritated for no reason. The tension must be getting to him too, David realized.

They went as planned on the Saturday night. When the cell doors were opened for evening association, Eddie had the dummies ready in the bunks. They’d broken up their two wooden chairs and covered them with their jackets and bunched up bedclothes to simulate their bodies, and then they’d laid the papier-mache heads in profile on the pillows. The effect was better than David had anticipated, but Eddie, eyeing his handiwork with a professional detachment, was less confident.

‘They’ll work okay if the screws are just doing a quick check through the Judas hole, but if they come in here, we’ve had it,’ he said, giving the dummies a final dissatisfied look before they left the cell for what they hoped would be the last time. David’s heart was beating so fast he felt it would burst.

Eddie had been right: There were less screws on duty than usual — just one out in the yard and another at a desk in the corner reading a newspaper, nowhere near the doorway at the other end of the gym that opened onto the darkened stairs leading up to the rec room above. And there’d been no head count going in, which made it a lot less likely there’d be one going out. But these positive developments didn’t help David calm down, and he soon began to find the waiting almost unbearable. Eddie had been adamant that they should stay downstairs until almost the last minute since there would be far less chance of their being missed that way, and he seemed to have no problem passing the time chatting to the other prisoners and joining in a game of basketball down the other end of the gym, but David couldn’t take his eyes off the clock on the wall. Time seemed to have stopped; the minute hand didn’t move at all, and he kept looking toward the stairs and then over at Eddie, waiting for him to give the signal for them to go.

At quarter past seven, fifteen minutes before the end of association, Eddie came over. He looked furious.

‘What the hell are you doing, Davy?’ he asked in an angry whisper. ‘Hopping from one leg to the other gazing up at the bloody clock — you might as well go and tell that screw over there exactly what we’re planning. Do something for Christ’s sake. Anything. Just stop looking shifty.’

Eddie moved away before David could answer, and for the next ten minutes David walked the perimeter of the gym, keeping his head down, only glancing up occasionally at Eddie, never at the stairs. Until, at twenty-five past seven, he felt a tap on his shoulder and, seconds later, saw Eddie slip through the doorway and up the stairs. No one seemed to have noticed, and a minute or two later, he followed.

Eddie was at the top of the stairs holding a small half-sized gym mat folded up in his hand.

‘What do you want that for?’ David asked.

‘You’ll see.’

The door to the rec room was locked, but Eddie seemed to have expected that. He took a thin piece of wire from out of his pocket, fiddled inside the keyhole for a moment, and then opened the door with a gentle push.

‘Piece of cake,’ he whispered before beckoning David to follow him inside. The rec room looked very different from when David had last seen it. Dust sheets covered the furniture, the pool and the ping-pong tables, and a scaffold on wheels stood in the corner, leaning up against the far wall. There were no ladders. The workmen must have taken them with them when they left for the day. Outside the windows the sun had almost set over the exercise yard, leaving the big room in an eerie twilight.

Through the open door they heard the guard’s whistle down below, signalling the end of association, and then came the sound of the prisoners spilling out into the exercise yard and crossing over to A Wing, until finally the door of the gym shut with a bang, a guard’s voice shouted ‘goodnight’, and they were left alone in sudden silence.

‘All right. Let’s get to work,’ said Eddie, crossing over to the scaffold with a determined look on his face. ‘Come on; give us a hand, Davy. We need to move this. We don’t want to be visible through the windows, do we?’

Gently, they trundled the scaffold over to the centre of the wall and then, once Eddie was satisfied with its position, he started clambering up its side toward the top. Halfway up he stopped, bent down, picked something up from one of the planks, and then let out a suppressed whoop of delight. He had something metal in his hand, but in the half-light David couldn’t make out what it was.

‘We’re in luck,’ said Eddie, waving the thing in the air like it was some kind of trophy, his face creased with a wide smile.

‘What is it?’ asked David from below, irritated by his own incomprehension.

‘A scaffolding clip, you idiot. They must have had one over that they didn’t use.’

‘How does it help us?’

‘For making a hole so we can get up through there,’ said Eddie, pointing at the ceiling. ‘It’s going to have a bit more weight behind it than our paint brush handles, isn’t it?’

David nodded. He resented being spoken to like he was some bottom-of-the-class schoolboy, but he could see the point. The clip would help; it was a good omen.

Once he was up on the top of the scaffold, Eddie beckoned down to David to follow. It was a high room and the ceiling suddenly seemed impossibly far away, and David cursed the workmen under his breath for taking away their ladders. It didn’t take him long to realize that he was a far less skilful climber than his cellmate. He lacked the strength in his upper arms to haul himself up between the bars and he found it hard to balance on the narrow footholds. Two-thirds of the way up, he got stranded, unable to go up or down, and Eddie had to come down and help him the rest of the way.

‘Now maybe you can see the point of why I work out in the gym every day,’ said Eddie with a self-satisfied smile as he pulled and lifted David up onto the top level. He seemed to have forgotten his earlier ill humour now that he’d found the clip and they were under way with the escape.

‘What about keeping a lookout?’ asked David.

‘No point. If anyone comes up here, we’ve had it anyway. Unless you can think of an explanation of why we’re making a bloody great hole in the rec room ceiling after lights-out, of course,’ Eddie added with a grin.

Now, lifting the clip above his head, Eddie punched it up into the ceiling, and David joined in beside him using the wooden paint brush handle that he’d brought from the cell. Almost immediately a great cloud of white plaster mixed up with horsehair fell on their heads, half-blinding them. Wiping the dust from their eyes, they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

A pair of snowmen up to no good, that’s what we are, thought David. The adrenaline coursed through his veins and he suddenly felt absurdly happy.

Bit by bit the plaster came away, and soon the hole above their heads was large enough for them to see through to the roof space above.

‘I’m going up to take a look,’ said Eddie. ‘I won’t be long.’

Standing on David’s hands, he hauled himself up through the opening onto the rafters above, and for a moment all David could see from below was the beam of Eddie’s pocket torch travelling across the timber underside of the roof. It seemed a long way away.

But Eddie had lost none of his confidence when he came back down.

‘It’ll work,’ he said. ‘There are a couple of planks across the beams where we can stand. We’re lucky it’s a flat roof. It’s going to make it a lot easier. You finish off the hole. I’m going down to get the dust sheets and the chair.’