Josephine Cox - Journey’s End

Gulping so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the prisoner lowered his gaze, his thoughts going wild. Jesus! How did he know that? He must be a bloody mind-reader … but he was right. The prospect of choking him until he stopped breathing filled him with excitement.

The scraping of a chair told him the Governor was standing up. He could feel the coldness of his gaze as it fell on him. ‘Look at me, Carter.’ The sound of air being drawn through his nose was oddly loud in that warm, uncomfortable room. ‘LOOK AT ME, I SAY!’

Carter looked up. ‘Sir!’

The Governor came close, so close his smoke-stained breath fanned the prisoner’s face. ‘You broke both his legs, Carter.’ The voice was almost tender. ‘You went into the showers and broke both his legs. Why would you do a thing like that?’

The big man looked up. ‘I didn’t do it. I never touched him.’

‘Liar!’

‘No, sir. I’m no liar.’

‘So you say.’ The Governor put his hands behind his back and strolled about for a while, eventually coming up behind the prisoner. ‘If you didn’t do it, who did?’

‘Don’t know, sir. It pays to keep yourself to yourself in this place. All I know is, it weren’t me.’

‘You were seen.’

‘No, sir. It weren’t nothing to do with me.’

‘There was a witness, Carter! You were seen … slithering into the space beside him. One minute he was washing, and the next he was writhing on the floor and you were gone.’

‘No, sir!’ As he glanced up, rage fired his eyes. If ever he found out who had grassed on him, he’d slit their throat without a second thought. ‘Who was it, sir? Who lied about it being me?’

Silence fell, and in that moment the air was charged with a sense of danger. Eventually the Governor spoke, his voice so soft it was barely audible. ‘Did I tell you to look up?’

The prisoner dropped his gaze. ‘No, sir.’

‘Did I give you permission to speak … to ask me questions?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Mmm.’ The smaller man remained still for a moment, then he strolled round the room, and after a time he returned to stand before the prisoner. ‘You were seen !’

Cursing himself for almost losing control, the prisoner gave no reply.

‘You had an argument with him earlier. Later, you saw your opportunity, and you viciously broke both his legs.’

Slowly shaking his head, the prisoner remained silent.

‘They say you threw him to the ground and stamped on his legs, so hard that they cracked under the weight. Did you do that, Carter? Did you?’

Sweating profusely, the prisoner looked up and in hesitant voice denied it yet again. ‘No, sir. I swear it.’

‘I see.’ Anger and disappointment coloured the man’s voice. ‘This is not the first time you’ve been brought before me, Carter,’ he snapped. ‘Time and again you’ve caused trouble amongst the prisoners. You’re a nasty, evil sort who belongs more in a cage than a prison.’

He took a step away, as though he suddenly could not bear to be near such low-life. ‘I know you did this, Carter, I’d gamble my life on it. But you’re such a devious devil, I can’t prove it. Y’see, they’re all too cowardly to come forward, but you already knew that, didn’t you?’

He leaned forward, his face almost touching that of the prisoner. ‘You may be off the hook on this one, but there will come a time when I get you bang to rights. So watch out, Carter, because from now on, you won’t be able to scratch your backside without me knowing.’

Turning to the officer, he ordered briskly, ‘All privileges stopped for the foreseeable future. Now get him out of my sight!’

With that the prisoner was dismissed, and when he was gone, the Governor sat at his desk, muttering under his breath, ‘Nasty piece of work! No background, no past. It’s as though he was never born.’

Taking off his glasses, he placed them on the desk and with both hands he wiped the sweat from his face. ‘I wish I knew what made the bastard tick. If I knew that, I’d be able to finish him once and for all.’

Replacing his spectacles, he resumed his paperwork. But the leering face as it went out of the door burned in his mind, until a few minutes later, he had to stop work, go to the cabinet and taking out a bottle, pour himself a much-needed drink. There were times when he wondered if he really needed this job after all.

That evening, when the lights were out and only the narrowest shaft of silver moonlight filtered through the window-bars, Edward Trent – for Carter was only an assumed name – lay in his bunk, his eyes closed and his mind full of thoughts about the woman he could not get out of his mind, and the child called Jamie, his one and only son, who was lying in a cold churchyard because of him.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a ciggie hid away somewhere, ’ave ye?’ The voice with the Scots accent belonged to the man in the lower bunk; young and bold, he feared no one, except maybe the man above him, who was renowned for his quick temper and cruel punishment of anyone who set against him.

The answer was instant and sharp. ‘If I had, what makes you think I’d give it to you?’

‘Well, for one thing, I thought you might appreciate the way I kept my mouth shut when questioned by the Governor this morning.’

‘You had a choice. I didn’t ask you to keep quiet about that weasel in the shower.’

There was a low peal of laughter. ‘What d’you take me for? What would have happened if I’d told them how I saw you go in, I heard him squeal, and then I heard the crunch of his bones? I also saw you come out and slink away. I knew what you’d done, all right. I could have shopped you if I’d wanted.’

‘Why don’t you then?’ Hanging his upper end over the bedrail, Trent hissed at the young man, ‘Go on! Call for the screw and tell him what you know, you Scottish nonce.’

‘Oh yeah? And have both my legs broken tomorrow? No thanks. I’ll settle for a ciggie.’

There was a pause while Trent stared down on the bold young man. Then he swung away, delved into the curve of the wall and a moment later threw down a hand-rolled cigarette. ‘Two draws and no more,’ he warned. ‘If they get a whiff of smoke they’ll be in here to search the place from top to bottom.’ He gave a devious grin. ‘It wouldn’t do for them buggers to poke about where they’re not wanted.’

The young man sat up. ‘I need a light.’

Another moment and the match was thrown into his lap. ‘Two draws and no more,’ he was reminded.

Having struck the match on his shoe, the young man lit the cigarette. He took a deep, satisfying draw. Then: ‘D’you mind if I ask you something?’

‘I don’t know till you ask me.’

‘ Have you ever killed anybody? ’ Taking a long smooth drag of the cigarette, the young fella looked up, startled when he was suddenly grasped round the neck and hoisted into the air. ‘Woah, woah! I didnae mean nuthin’.’

He was hoisted almost to the top bunk, shaken hard, then dropped to the ground where he lay for a moment, choking on the smoke he already had in his throat. ‘You’re a damned lunatic!’ he gasped. ‘Isn’t a man allowed to ask a question without the wind being knocked out of him?’

Above him the big man leered over the edge of his bunk. ‘Twice,’ he said softly. ‘I killed twice; one was a thieving bastard who thought he could get one over on me …’

‘Hmh!’ Clambering up, the young man brushed the dust from his prison nightwear. ‘He won’t be thieving from you again then, will he, eh?’

‘Too right he won’t.’ Lying back in his bunk, the big man was in a confiding mood, especially as he knew his cellmate was not the gabbing kind. ‘I’ve got this temper, y’see? When folks rile me up the wrong way, I lash out. I can’t help it.’