My Prison Journey part 3 – Mr. Shoes Pie

 

 

Part 3 of the ‘Prison Journey’ set of short stories, see also

Part 1: Sweat Box Odyssey

Part 2: Leaves on the Line

 

 

Mr. Shoes’ Pie

 

I remember the lad’s shoes, one notices these things in prison. It pays to notice. First impressions are everything, judge the book before you even examine the cover! It’s a matter of identifying symptoms for lack of a better word.

 

For example, a man who displays two or three of poor dental hygiene, hunched, gaunt, casual scratching and over friendly-ness is likely to be a ‘bag-head’; a heroin addict chasing his next fix, his next bag of heroin.

 

But as for Mr Shoes, well he was another typical stereotype. Mr Shoes was an obvious first-timer. He still bore a relatively healthy colour in his skin. His rosy cheeks (facial) had not yet succumbed to the creeping grey pallor of the incarcerated. His skin was smooth and untattoed with tan-lines that suggested regular foreign holidays. His hair was styled, collar length with a well behaved side parting.

 

As far as the prison world was concerned, he was another no-mark. Insignificant. ‘The Word’ was he was a first time offender with guesses on his misdemeanour ranging from ’Domestic Assault’, ‘Drink Driving’, ‘Fraud’, ‘Theft from Employer’ – the venial sins, certainly not a mortal offence!

 

But his footwear was the dead giveaway. It leaned more towards the fashionable than the practical, shiny and black. They were Court shoes. Nice posh shoes. But there was something comedic about Mr Shoes. It was as if a tired or bored child had spited him on one of those mix & match fashion wheel toys.

 

Head – Posh

 

Torso – Burgundy sweatshirt, prison issued. At least three sizes too big. The sleeves were so long that they were too heavy to hold themselves when rolled up.

 

Legs – Grey sweatpants, prison issued. Grey socks, prison issued. The tracksuit bottoms were a tartan pattern and thigh flaring away from being a pair of plus-fours! There was about 4 inches on one leg and 8 inches on the other that were exposed between socks’ top and pants’ end.

 

Feet – Posh, shiny, black, fashionable court shoes.

 

The feet, in the shoes, were shuffling along in the queue for one of two daily meals. He was making all the right moves. Head slightly down, neither submissive nor aggressive.

He was not the only first timer, there were three others in the queue that day that also jumped in fright when they heard a gruff Northern voice demand

 

“Where were you last week lad? What were you doing at 10 O’clock last Tuesday morning?”

 

Now I knew what Vinney was doing and why he was asking, his motives were pure – but once it was established that the question had been directed at Mr Shoes, he took on a look like a kid whose ice cream has just been swooped away by a felonious seagull.

 

Vinney on the other hand, was a prison veteran. He was the hippo in the watering hole. A big lump of a lad and had that initial impact on most that he met. But on this Monday lunchtime, in the diets queue, Vinney was merely putting a theory to the test.

 

I suppose it’s about time we get some of the perspective here. It was a typical Monday for most of us guests, serving her majesty by doling out diets on the induction wing. Vinney was the servery No#1 and was responsible for ordering the diets for each of the 90 guests each day. This involved a fair amount of “guess-timation”, given that Vinney would be ordering diets a week in advance for people he hadn’t even met yet. It was when I pointed this last out to Vinney that he became intrigued.

 

At 10 O’clock on the previous Tuesday, as was our want, Vinney and I were sat in my pad having a cup of coffee and a smoke. To quote Robert Rankin, “It was an ancient charter, or tradition, or some such thing.”

 

Vinney had the menu sheet out and we were trying to predict which diets we would need for the following week. Which would be the most popular choices? How many vegetarians would we have? How many Halal diets? The same old story really. Truth be told, the menu sheets operated on a 4 week cycle, the food as repetitive as the amounts we ordered. There wasn’t much science involved in the process; load up on the burgers, the pies and the chips. Lay off the tofu and three bean salad. But where we may have been lacking in science on this particular Tuesday, we were more than making up for it in Philosophy.

 

“Do you ever wonder who is going to be eating this food Vinney?” I asked in no particular way and with only the merest hint of an agenda.

 

“What do you mean? Cons lad. It’s not really a café is it? What rubbish are you talking about now?” Vinney paused for a while before he added, “But whoever it is, they better not be moaning that they’re allergic to something or it’s against their religion or human rights. Now that is something I do know.”

In fairness, not many people did complain about the diets, as Vinney had a rarefied talent – “The Face”.  A knack of curling one eyebrow and tilting his head ever so slightly to the side that would give most pause for thought. An oxymoronically subtle style of customer service that was all at once calming and menacing. On more than one occasion I watched in wonder as a would-be moaner went from a full blown rant to a simpering apologetic whimper without Vinney ever saying a word. All work would grind to a halt on the hot-plate as we watched the show, being entertained as a petitioner would act out both their AND Vinney’s sides of a conversation as they talked themselves back out of a corner. They would invariably leave with their meal glad that they had talked things through with the big lad?! If “The Face” didn’t achieve the required results, Vinney would simply unfurl himself to his full height of over 6 and a half feet; said petitioner would usually strike a more conciliatory tone and matters would resolve themselves.

 

But on this morning, in my cell, regarding who would be eating future diets I decided to persist. “No Vinney mate, you’re not getting me. Do you not stop to consider that there are people out there (as I pointed to the perimeter wall) that are going about their business not knowing that they will be here next week?”

 

Vinney took a deep drag from his smoke, held it for a long old count before exhaling a long satisfied stream of smoke through a mischievous smile. “Go on Charlie, you have me attention.” was the big fellah’s next line.

 

I continued, “Well in my own case, even an hour before my crime, I never anticipated what was coming. I never knew I was gonna commit a crime and I definitely didn’t know that I would be coming here!”

 

I could see that I still had Vinney’s attention so I persisted. “Think on this Vinney lad. On the Tuesday before I came to prison, at about this time, I would have been having a coffee break and a smoke. I would never for a second have thought that there was some lump ordering the meals that I would be eating the following week! So on that same principle there is some poor sod out there right now. He’s having a coffee break at work right now oblivious to the fact that the fates are conspiring against him as we speak! He has no clue that he is on the way to prison or that you and I are sat here thinking about him while ordering him a pie and chips!”

 

Vinney contemplated quietly for a moment before looking back at the diet sheets, “Better make that 31 pie and chips then. 30 standard portions and the 1 extra for our mystery friend!”

 

 

 

We finished off the diets requisition sheet and thought no more about it. Well at least we didn’t discuss it, so I never thought about it. But on this particular Monday, as the usual taciturn Vinney asked Mr Shoes where he had been, I realised that our Vinney had in fact been mulling the concept over.

 

“Jesus lad, it’s not a difficult question, what were you doing last Tuesday at about 10 o’clock in the morning?”

 

After some reddening, blustering and mumbling Mr Shoes responded, “I guess I would have been at work. Maybe having a tea break or something?!”

 

Mr Shoes was a little anxious and very perplexed. He had no doubt heard many prison horror stories regarding the showers and the like, but I doubt anybody could have warned him about the perils of diets!  I expect he was concerned that he might displease Vinney with his response.

 

Vinney seemed initially satisfied but persisted, asking “Did you expect that you would be coming here?”

 

Mr Shoes looked forlorn as he said, “Not in a million years!”

 

To this day I couldn’t really tell you whether Mr Shoes anxiety was eased or increased when Vinney nodded, smiled and said, “Well my mate Charlie over there said that you’d be coming to see me and we ordered pie and chips especially for you!“

 

Vinney then turned his attention to the next guy in the queue, I affected a sympathetic smile as I served a bemused and bewildered Mr Shoes who was left to contemplate his strange encounter over a pie and chips.