Lynda Plante: The Escape

‘You still can,’ Barry said excitedly.

‘It’s over, so let’s just drop it. OK?’

‘I’ve got a case full of felt-tipped pens and I can draw my tattoos on you. I could pat them down with your mouthwash to make them look older, more faded. I can do it, I know I can.’

Colin swung his legs down from his bunk and shook his head in despair at Barry’s idea. He knew his cellmate was only trying to be helpful and, not wanting to upset him too much, Colin forced a smile.

‘It won’t work, and anyway that would make you an accomplice. Without the tattoo problem I could have said you had nothing to do with it. Even if you could draw anything like the ones you’ve got, it’s too dangerous. They’ll know you had to be in on it.’

‘Now you just listen! I don’t care if they charge me with helping you escape or add months on my sentence…’

‘But you’re on remand and haven’t even been given one yet, so you might just get released,’ Colin said gloomily.

‘I don’t want to be released. I want to stay in prison, studying art and learning how to paint with oils. You are the best and only friend I have ever had, and I really want to do this for you. Besides, you are going to give yourself up after the birth, right?’

Colin nodded but was still uncertain. Barry sat beside him on the bed.

‘We’ve come too far. You have worked so hard and learned every detail of my life and you have an amazing memory. You are really intelligent, you know that, right? Well, I’m not and I know that. It’s not like you’re breaking out to go robbing or assaulting anyone. You’ve got a good reason ’cos you want to hold your newborn baby boy in your arms. Give me a chance, Colin. Please, let’s just see if I can make this work?’

After a lot of discussion, Colin caved in, and decided that he should at least give the fake tattoos a try. He began to unbutton his shirt.

‘Start on the right arm, as you’ll never have the time to do my chest and shoulders. I could maybe get away with just rolling my sleeve up for the guards. Let’s see how it looks first, before we decide to go ahead as planned.’

Barry grinned and went to his small cupboard and took out his case of felt-tipped pens. He began to select the pale blue, navy blue, green and dark brown.

‘It’ll be lights out soon, so I’d best get cracking.’

Colin took off his shirt and turned sideways for Barry to begin drawing on his arm.

‘What I’ll do is wet a tissue with mouthwash, and sort of press it against it to make it fade. I’ve had some of these tats since I was fourteen, so they’re old.’

‘Why did you get a ruddy mermaid?’

‘’Cos I’d never been to the seaside, and now I could say I had.’

Barry’s ideas sometimes amazed Colin, but he said nothing as his cellmate concentrated and started to draw on his arm.

Colin kept getting up to check how it was going in the metal mirror above the small desk shelf. It was a very slow business as Barry wanted to make sure the tattoos were not only the right size but looked real. He knew the duty officers at the release desk would have details of inmates’ tattoos to check against, as they had recorded all his when he first came in to Barfield. The mermaid was only half drawn when it was time for lights out. Colin had to admire Barry’s work, and said it looked very realistic. Barry thought that the green was a bit too bright on her fish tail and would need to be faded down.

The next morning, Barry worked for an hour before bringing his breakfast of a bacon roll and coffee to the cell. Colin was so nervous he couldn’t face eating and was worried that during the night the mermaid had become a little smudged. Barry went over the outline again, dabbed it with mouthwash and sprinkled talcum powder on it. His main worry was that he’d lost his yellow felt-tipped pen that he needed to draw her wavy blonde hair. He fiddled with the pens he did have, testing and mixing the different shades in layers on his notepad. In the end, the best match he could come up with was a watered-down orange.

Colin was getting more and more impatient as it was taking so long. Barry still had to do the outline and colouring of an anchor and chain on his shoulder, and they only had one day left to get it all completed. Colin tried his best not to put too much pressure on Barry, who sat concentrating very hard.

They both jumped when they heard the sudden sound of keys rattling in their cell door. Colin quickly pulled on his shirt and Barry pretended to be drawing in his art book as an officer unlocked the door.

‘You two want to go down onto the wing floor to play in the table-tennis competition?’ the officer asked.

‘Thank you, sir, but we were about to have a game of chess,’ Barry replied.

‘Very brainy. I’ll leave you to enjoy your game then,’ he said, then turned and left the cell.

Colin breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Just as well he didn’t check.’

‘Why?’

‘We don’t have a chess set, Barry, only dominoes!’

‘Oh yeah, I forgot. You are really clever, and I just reckoned you’d know how to play chess.’

After a couple of hours the drawings were taking shape and Colin grew more relaxed. They were making good progress and were both thrilled that nearly all the tattoos had been completed by lunch time.

‘Only one more night to go,’ Barry said as he checked his work on Colin’s body, making some finishing touches. He felt much more confident now the job was nearly done, and started to pack away his felt-tipped pens before lunch. Meanwhile, Colin carefully buttoned up his prison-issue shirt over the freshly drawn tattoos. He was constantly afraid he would smudge them.

The cell door opened as an officer entered.

‘Anything nice for lunch today, sir?’ Colin asked, trying to appear calm.

‘Well, there’s prawn cocktail to start, followed by best fillet steak, mushrooms and fine-cut chips, with lemon tart for dessert,’ the officer said with a cheeky grin.

‘Sounds good to me, sir, will you be joining us?’ Colin asked, playing along with the joke.

‘I’d love to, but my wife would never forgive me for not eating her home-made ham, cheese and pickle sandwiches.’

‘Well, I’d be happy to eat them for you and let you have my lunch,’ Barry said, joining in with the banter.

‘Believe me, the wife’s sarnies aren’t much better than what’s served up in here,’ the officer said, and they all laughed. ‘Which one of you is Marsden?’

‘I am, Sir,’ Barry replied nervously.

‘You’re to report to the wing duty office right away.’

‘What do they want?’ Barry asked in alarm, and clenched his fists tightly to stop himself from shaking.

‘You are leaving for court at eight tomorrow morning. They want to go over the details, so look sharp, son.’

‘Yes, sir. Be right down, sir,’ Barry murmured as he followed the officer out of the cell.

Colin was worried sick and couldn’t face any lunch. Once again, he was becoming anxious and close to tears as he paced around the small cell, wondering when or if Barry would return. Neither of them had expected a meeting the day before the court appearance. Colin was terrified that something might be wrong, and that they’d been found out. He calmed himself as he realised that they’d both have been summoned if the plan had been rumbled.

He sat on the edge of his bunk bed. ‘Be positive,’ he thought and he began to copy Barry’s signature over and over again in his notebook. His friend had simple handwriting and, after only a little practice, he could almost do it with his eyes closed. Even so, in the pit of his stomach, he worried that everything they had planned and done so far might have been a waste of time.