Lynda Plante - The Talisman

Stony-faced, Dr Gordon sat and told the Governor quietly that the boy was grieving, he needed time. He needed help to face up to the fact that his mother was dead.

‘That boy, as you call him, Doctor, murdered his own father! You have his records, why don’t you read them?’

Dr Gordon said of course he had read Stubbs’ reports. He was the prison doctor, and his request for a psychiatrist had been ignored.

‘If there was one available, he would have been brought to the prisoner. As I have said, Doctor, there is a war on, and we are seriously understaffed and overworked. Right now, Stubbs is a hero to the rest of the men. If he goes unpunished, we will not be able to maintain any kind of discipline.’

Alex was removed to the hospital wing and remained there for another five weeks. He was drugged to keep him subdued, and the doctor used every power he had to get him transferred to a rehabilitation programme. He had spent a long time going over Alex’s records, and found them disturbing.

Due to Dr Gordon’s persistent efforts, a psychiatrist was eventually found and, after discussing Alex with the doctor, he agreed to take on his case.

Alex would not co-operate. He didn’t want any ‘nut doc’, he wanted to go back to his cell. Dr Gordon went in to see him, in his own time and purely because he wanted to help Alex. ‘Alex, if you want to get out, lead a normal life, you have to help yourself. First, you will have to go before the prison authorities. You’ve got a list of charges as long as your arm, and even with mitigating circumstances you could get another God knows how many years on your sentence... Talk to the man, he only wants to help you, that’s all. Maybe we can do something for you.’

‘There’s fuck all wrong with me — I just want to get out an’ see me mother. Bastards, keeping me penned up in here. I just want out.’

‘Well, you’re going about it the wrong way. If I try to get permission for you to go to her grave, acting up like this will make them refuse to even consider it... Now, talk with the psychiatrist, just talk things through. Is that too much to ask? Can’t you do that for me?’

After a long pause Alex slowly nodded his head. Dr Gordon patted his shoulder. ‘Good lad... I’ll keep on coming, all right?’

Alex shook his hand and held it a fraction longer, as if he needed some sort of contact. He gave a strange, shy smile. ‘Thank you.’

Frank Nathan closed the cell door and winked at Alex as the key turned in the lock. He was not at all what Alex expected — his short, squat body was muscular, and the black hairs sprouting on his barrel chest were visible even though he was wearing a shirt and tie. Nathan was like a chimp, his big hands fuzzy with thick, black hair. Stubble seemed to appear on his chin as you watched him. He had a pug nose, as if he had been in the ring at one time, and a wonderful, raucous, rumbling laugh. He jerked his thumb at the cell door. ‘Looks like they don’t fuckin’ trust me, neither... Right, you an’ me are going to thrash a few things out. I’m here to listen. Sometimes I’ll ask you a few things, but on the whole I’m a bloody good listener. You smoke...? Here.’

Frank lit his cigarette and his powerful body made the chair creak alarmingly as he sat down. He folded his chubby hands over his belly and leaned forward. ‘My time’s valuable, so if you want to act like a prick, go ahead. I’ll just cross you off. There’s fellas who need me, an’ if you think you don’t, sod ya. If you don’t want to help yourself, then if you don’t mind my sayin’ so, you are well and truly fucked...’

Alex was taken off guard, not only by Nathan’s presence but by his gruffness, yet he liked him. There was something powerful and, more important, genuine, about the man.

‘Let’s start off with why you knocked the Guv’nor’s front teeth out.’ Nathan puffed on his cigarette and waited. Alex hesitated, and Nathan prompted him, ‘What is it, son? What do you want to say — best to get it off your chest...?’

Alex clasped and unclasped his hands, refusing to look up. His voice was quiet and strained, ‘She’s dead. Some way I’ve been thinking, maybe, just maybe, she’s still alive an’ you was all doing this to me to get at me. Like even you was tryin’ to deceive me.’

‘No, Alex, your mother is dead, and nobody has tried to deceive you in any way. It was just unfortunate that you couldn’t see her in hospital. No one realized how ill she was until it was too late.’

‘Aye, well, she was never one to complain — she was that sort of woman. She was a wonderful...’ He pressed his hands together until the knuckles were white.

‘Alex, it’s not wrong to cry for her. It’d be a release, don’t try to stop it. No one’s here to see you but me... Come on, son, cry for her, get it out of your system.’

Nathan watched Alex struggle to regain control of his emotions. He took Alex off guard with his next question. ‘Did you cry for your dad when he died?’ He could see the barrier — the feeling in the boy’s eyes was breaking him up, it was so desperate. Still Alex’s hands opened and closed spasmodically. Nathan kept up the pressure. ‘Did they love each other, your mum and dad?’

Unable to speak, Alex just nodded his head. His eyes never left Nathan’s face now, as if mesmerized by him.

‘They love you?’

Nathan could see the marks on Alex’s hands where he was inflicting pain on himself to control his emotions. Alex made a strangled, guttural sound. He wanted to tell Nathan they had loved him.

‘I didn’t hear you. You say they loved you or they didn’t?’

Alex’s voice was alien to him, childlike. He gasped out, ‘They loved me.’

‘What about your brother? You’ve got an older brother, haven’t you?’

There it was — Nathan saw it, the boy’s whole body altered. One moment he was helpless, a child in need, and the next the body was tight, the face set, the highly charged emotions under control. It was as if someone had stopped a dam bursting. The transformation fascinated Nathan. He knew he wasn’t dealing with a schizoid or a psychopath, as the prison had hinted. He also knew that to unlock the boy’s trauma would take time, time he didn’t have, wouldn’t be allowed.

‘I read about your dad. He almost made heavyweight champion of the world, didn’t he? Used to box meself, tell by me hooter. You box, Alex?’

The blue eyes met Nathan’s. The barrier was still there. Nathan tried again. ‘Did you want to follow in his footsteps? Eh? Big lad like you could fill out, maybe go on the heavyweight circuits — good set of shoulders on you. Mind you, you’d have to put on quite a few pounds. What are you, six-two, six-three? Your dad now, lemme see, I was readin’ up on him — six-four, wasn’t he, Alex?’

Rising from the bunk, Alex walked to the wall, leaned against it. Nathan showed no fear of him, just lit another cigarette. He hated having to cut corners, hated the pressure he was under. He had reached retirement age, but being wartime he had been roped in. But more than anything he hated knowing that time was against him. If he didn’t crack Alex fast, he wouldn’t get another chance. He also knew that if Alex didn’t get help, and fast, they would have a potentially lethal young man on their hands. ‘He ever hit you? That what made you go for him? Your dad a violent man, was he?’

That guttural sound again, the low moan, the hands moving rapidly.

‘Sit down, son... come on now.’

But Alex turned his face to the wall, and when he spoke his voice was strained, close to breaking. ‘He was gentle... I had a dog, he give me a dog. He never hit none of us.’

‘What about your ma?’

The fist slammed into the brick wall and Alex turned on him, eyes blazing. ‘No!’