As Colin went on listening, he thought it was no wonder that Barry didn’t want to leave the prison. After such a childhood, life inside was better. Barry said he was eager to further his
education, and in prison he had the chance to do so.
He had begun art classes, and was showing great promise, so much so that he was allowed to keep a sketch-book, a variety of pencils and felt-tipped pens in his cell. Barry enjoyed copying
pictures from magazines. He had never had such encouragement at home or school and, although he was a beginner, he was proud of his efforts. The prison art teacher had told him that, if he kept up
his progress, he would be allowed to use acrylic paint and, in time, even oils.
The two cellmates became firm friends as they planned the switch, but time was running out. If the idea was to work, Colin had to feel certain he could take over Barry’s identity. As part
of the plan they made a point of never being seen together, and they always ate separately. Barry stayed in their cell as much as possible, and always kept his back to the door when the officers
looked through the sliding hatch.
Colin went over Barry’s life with him, again and again, so that he could answer any question Barry asked him about himself.
‘OK, so where did I go to school?’ Barry asked.
‘St Thomas’s.’
‘How many GCSEs did I get?’
‘None. You never sat any because you were expelled.’
Barry raised his hand. ‘You’re becoming a good me,’ he said, as they slapped their palms together in a high five.
They were both growing confident that they could pull it off. Eventually, Colin could recall all of Barry’s background, even down to aunts and uncles, addresses, dates of births and foster
carers. They had left nothing out.
Colin was very careful not to mention anything to Karen when he spoke to her on the phone. She could sense that he was less depressed, and thought that he was now coping with their separation
and prison life. She felt it was safe to tell him that she had asked the baby’s sex at a recent scan, and that they were going to have a beautiful boy. Colin was overjoyed at the news and
excitedly told Barry. They were now even more determined to make the escape plan work, so Colin could be with Karen at the birth of their son.
Colin knew he’d be arrested again, and that his escape would put his chance of parole in danger. He decided that, as soon as he had held his newborn son in his arms, and had kissed Karen,
he would give himself up at the local police station.
‘It’ll only be a couple of days as her due date is the day of my escape. I’ll convince the officers you had nothing to do with it. I’ll say it was all my idea and I
learned all about you from sharing a cell.’
Barry grinned and gave him a big hug. He had never had such a close friend. In fact, he’d not even been friendly with his brothers as they were much younger. He was thrilled and felt that,
for once, he wasn’t a Dumbo. Colin clearly liked him, and had been really appalled to hear about his abusive childhood. They agreed that, when both of them were finally released, they would
stay friends. They even discussed working together painting and decorating.
‘I doubt my father-in-law will take me back on, so we could set up our own business together,’ Colin said.
‘That would be brilliant. We could do up kids’ rooms with, like, cartoon characters and stuff,’ Barry replied with enthusiasm.
‘Yeah, you draw them and then I paint them in. We could call our company BC designs.’
‘I’m so excited, Colin. I’ve never had anything named after me before.’
With two days and nights to go, Colin was feeling nervous and it was keeping him awake. They had still managed not to be seen together outside the cell, and they even went down
to the showers at different times. The truth was Barry didn’t shower that often, and his body odour was at times pungent and offensive. He even slept in his prison outfit, because, he said,
he liked to be first in the line-up for breakfast.
It was early evening when their cell door was opened for shower time.
‘I’ll see you after your shower and we can go over everything again,’ Barry said.
‘I don’t want to appear rude or anything, but I really think you could do with having a shower, Barry. It’s been quite warm in here the last few days and . . .’
‘Sorry. I don’t tend to notice it myself. You see, I don’t really like taking showers, reminds me of school as I used to get teased and bullied about being a fat
boy.’
‘Well, we still don’t want to be seen together outside of here so you go shower first.’
Barry nodded and picked up his towel. He was about to leave the cell when Colin stopped him and handed him a bar of soap.
Colin waited twenty minutes before going to the showers, as he suspected Barry would simply jump in and out again and he’d pass him on the stairwell. On entering the
shower room, he noticed Barry stepping out of a cubicle and putting a towel round his waist. What Colin saw made him feel sick. Barry had tattoos over his chest, shoulders and right arm. Colin was
so shaken he almost fainted. He’d never seen the tattoos before because Barry wore a long-sleeved denim shirt over his standard-issue cap-sleeved vest all the time. He got clean clothes only
when he took one of his rare showers, which had always been after Colin.
By the time they had both returned to the cell, Colin was furious. Unable to control his anger, he grabbed Barry and pinned him up against the wall.
‘You are covered in bloody tattoos!’
‘I know. I had ’em done when I was drunk. Well, not all at once. Tattooist spelt some things wrong so I had to have some of them reworked. I got the mermaid and the ship when I went
to Peckham and the . . .’
‘Don’t you understand?’
‘Understand what?’
Colin wanted to slap him, he was so furious.
‘They will ask me to take off my shirt and I haven’t got a single bloody tattoo! They’ll know I am not you straight away. It’s finished. I can’t get out now. You
should have told me about your tattoos.’
Colin threw himself on his bottom bunk and buried his head in his pillow, sobbing. Barry felt dreadful. He had never liked undressing in front of anyone, and was always shy about his body. He
had just presumed that Colin knew about the tattoos and was surprised that he had never seen them. He felt terrible, and after a couple of minutes went over and tapped his cellmate’s
shoulder.
‘I know what we can do, it’s possible we can get round the tats.’
Colin sat up and punched him away. ‘How? How on earth can you think that? Walk out of here and visit a tattoo parlour, should I? Don’t be so stupid. Just stay away from me, because
right now I feel like punching your lights out!’
Barry looked totally dejected. At last, Colin pulled himself together and calmly held out his hand. He gripped Barry’s tightly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. It’s my
own fault. I just got so caught up in the thought of being with Karen again and seeing my son born. It was a dumb idea, and anyway I’d never have got away with it.’
‘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.