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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"ROMANS AND C of E!" bellowed a voice that could be heard from one side of the block to the other.
Da
"Do you believe in God?" asked Da
"No," said Nick. "I'm an agnostic."
"What's that?"
"Someone who believes we can't know if there's a God, as opposed to an atheist, who is certain there isn't one. But it's still a good excuse to be out of the cell for an hour every Sunday morning, and in any case, I enjoy singing. Not to mention the fact that the padre gives a damn good sermon-even if he does seem to spend an inordinate amount of time on remorse."
"Padre?"
"Army term for a priest," explained Nick.
"Inordinate?"
"Excessive, longer than necessary. What about you? Do you believe in God?"
"Used to, before all this 'appened."
"Happened," said Nick.
"Happened," repeated Da
"Beth and I are Roman Catholics; you can't say me is a Roman Catholic."
"Beth and I are Roman Catholics, so we know the Bible almost off by heart, even though I wasn't able to read it."
"Is Beth still coming this afternoon?"
"Of course," said Da
"Her," said Nick.
"Her," said Da
"Don't you ever get fed up with me continually correcting you?"
"Yes," admitted Da
"Looking forward."
"Looking forward," repeated Da
"Why bother to search us before we go in?" asked Da
"Because it's one of the few occasions when prisoners from all four blocks can congregate in one place, and have a chance to exchange drugs or information."
"Congregate?"
"Get together. A church has a congregation."
"Spell it," demanded Da
They reached the front of the line, where two officers were carrying out searches-a short woman who was over forty and must have survived on a diet of prison food, and a young man who looked as if he spent a lot of time bench-pressing. Most of the prisoners seemed to want to be searched by the woman officer.
Da
"It's not bad," said Da
"Just because you're a murderer doesn't mean you can't have other talents," said Nick. "Don't forget Caravaggio."
"I don't think I've met him," admitted Da
"Turn to page 127 in your hymn books," a
"I'll introduce you to Caravaggio as soon as we're back in the cell," promised Nick as the little organ struck up the opening chord.
As they sang, Nick couldn't be sure if Da
Nick looked around the chapel. He wasn't surprised that the benches were as packed as a football stand on a Saturday afternoon. A group of prisoners huddled together in the back row were deep in conversation, not even bothering to open their hymn books as they exchanged details of which new arrivals needed drugs; they'd already dismissed Da
The only time they fell silent was when the chaplain delivered his sermon. Dave, whose name was printed in bold letters on a lapel badge pi
Dave invited his captive audience to pick up their Bibles and turn to the book of Genesis, then informed them that Cain was the first murderer. "Cain was envious of his brother's success," he explained, "so decided to do away with him." Dave then turned to Moses, who he claimed killed an Egyptian and thought he'd got away with it, but he hadn't, because God had seen him, so he was punished for the rest of his life.
"I don't remember that bit," said Da
"Nor do I," admitted Nick. "I thought Moses died peacefully in his bed at the age of one hundred and thirty."
"Now I want you all to turn to the second book of Samuel," continued Dave, "where you'll find a king who was a murderer."
"Hallelujah," cried the first three rows, if not in unison.
"Yes, King David was a murderer," said Dave. "He bumped off Uriah the Hittite, because he fancied his wife, Bathsheba. But King David was very cu
"Hallelujah," chorused the first three rows.
Dave ended the service with closing prayers in which the words understanding and forgiveness were repeated again and again. He finally blessed his congregation, probably one of the largest in London that morning.
As they filed out of the chapel, Da
They were all searched again on the way out, and this time three prisoners were pulled over to one side before being marched off down the purple corridor.
"What's that all about?" asked Da
"They're off to segregation," explained Nick. "Possession of drugs. They'll get at least seven days in solitary."
"It can't be worth it," said Da
"They must think so," said Nick, "because you can be sure they'll be dealing again the moment they're released."
Da
At two o'clock, an hour before visits were due to take place, Da
"How do I look?" he asked. Nick frowned. "That bad?"
"It's just that…"
"Just what?" demanded Da
"I think Beth might have expected you to shave."
Da