Life in the prison hospital seemed to be based upon a wrong conception of what he was like, for he was persistently treated as though he were an invalid or a schoolboy. One day he went to see the Medical Officer, who gave him a careful physical examination and asked how he was getting on.
‘What do you think of the others, the other patients? Get on with them?’
‘They’re all right. But we’re not patients, we’re prisoners.’
‘What about your general health? Ever have any serious illnesses? As a child perhaps?’
‘Only the usual things, measles, mumps, chickenpox.’
‘Meningitis? Any form of rheumatic fever? Nothing serious at all, you’ve been lucky, haven’t you.’ He made little ticks and crosses on a form. ‘You’re eating well, I’m glad to hear that.’
Back in the ward he asked the old man the reason for the examination. ‘Just routine. They always like to have a look at you.’ On the following day he shook hands earnestly before leaving. Tony had somehow not liked to ask what he was charged with, but after the old man had gone he spoke to the warder and learned that it was rape.
On the following day he had two visitors. When he entered the interview room a little round-shouldered man was looking out of the window into a courtyard, clinking coins in his pocket. When he turned, Tony recognised his father.
Mr Jones came forward and shook his son by the hand. His moustache was grey and he had grown fatter, but otherwise he had changed little. His characteristic smell of beer, tobacco and sweat was as strong as ever.
‘How are things then? You’re pretty fit from the look of you. Take any exercise?’
‘An hour a day.’
‘That’s good. I’m keeping pretty well. Nora too, she sent her regards. I’ve retired now, you know. Taken to watching the Codgers again, makes something to do.’ The Codgers was the football team they had watched in Tony’s childhood. ‘Not a patch on what they were, though, shouldn’t be surprised if they go down. You follow them at all?’
‘No.’ How could he have loved and later hated this foolish little man? ‘What did you come for?’
‘Just wondered if there was anything you wanted. I brought these along.’ He snapped open his brief-case. The officer by the door moved forward but relaxed when Mr Jones took out a bunch of grapes.
Tony felt suddenly very angry. He flung the grapes on the floor. ‘I don’t want your bloody grapes.’ His father looked at him in astonishment.
‘Now then,’ the officer said, ‘that’s enough of that.’
Mr Jones snapped the brief-case shut and stood with lowered head. ‘That’s how it is, then. You’re no good, I always said it. No good and never been any good.’
Tony stood up too. ‘Get out.’
His father appealed to the prison officer. ‘What do you think of it, eh? You bring ’em up, you give ’em a good home, and see the way it turns out. Right from the time he was a boy I said to his mother, “You’re spoiling that kid.” I was away a lot, had to be you understand, business.’
‘Get out, get out.’ Tony advanced upon his father. The officer stepped between them, and Mr Jones went. The officer shook his head.
‘You’ve fairly blotted your copybook, you have.’
‘If he comes again, I won’t see him.’
‘Your own father, too. I don’t know. Knock you about when you were a kid, did he? Might have been better if he had, at that.’ He offered the comment in a philosophical rather than a critical manner.
The second visitor – he had grown cautious, and asked the name in advance – was Widgey. She gave him a perfunctory kiss and said, ‘Looks as though the cards were right, eh? How the hell did you get into this mess?’ He said truthfully that he didn’t know. ‘The police have been on to me asking questions. I told them we had a bit of a spat that last day. Had to when they asked me, understand?’
‘I understand. It doesn’t matter.’
‘Don’t suppose it does. Wanted to tell you though, because they’re calling me as a witness. Can’t really refuse.’ She offered a cigarette and he took it.
‘Widgey, would you do something for me?’
‘What is it?’
‘There’s someone I want very much to see. I don’t like to write because – well, I don’t know what to say. Will you get in touch with her, go and see her, ask her to come.’
Widgey’s thin mouth was clamped shut. She released smoke through her nostrils. ‘You’re a fool.’
‘You’ve never met her, you don’t know what she’s like.’
‘I’ll tell you what she’s like. This is something the police let out when they saw me, though they didn’t mean to. She’s the chief witness against you, that’s what she’s like.’