HMP Belmarsh

‘How are you feeling, Harvey?’

Harvey keeps his eyes fixed on the grey-haired prison Chaplin sitting in the chair ahead of him, his knees crossed over each other. There’s a silver crucifix balancing on his chest, glinting in the light shining from the ceiling. Harvey can see where some of the silver has worn off around the edges, which must be from the amount of times he's clutched hold of it. Michael, his name is; he’s Irish although he told Harvey he’s lived in the UK for the past fifteen years. Harvey would put him in his mid to late sixties; he's got to know him quite well over the past few years. He recognises the scent of his Jo Malone cologne before he sees him. He wouldn’t have thought, before he met Michael, that a vicar would’ve chosen to buy something so expensive, so needless. Harvey resists the urge to curl his fists. He was brought up to believe that owning material goods was like a sickness, something people shouldn't be concerned about. Perhaps it’s the one luxurious thing Michael allows himself to buy.

Harvey was pretty sure Michael took an interest in him, when he first started here, because of his history, but during that time, Harvey would like to think they’ve sort of become friends. It’s weird though, he kind of does get a sense of peace sitting in here with Michael, and there’s something about Michael’s soft Irish tone that soothes him. The walls around him are a soft, white colour. Ahead of him on the wall there's an empty wooden cross. Whenever Harvey gets himself in a state, Harvey always finds that spending, even just ten minutes with Michael, is enough to relax him.

‘I feel embarrassed, upset, I can’t believe I allowed my anger to get the better of me,’ Harvey says, tears building behind his eyes. ‘I’m really sorry for what I did and I would like to ask . . . for God’s forgiveness.’ His words are shaky.

Michael nods. ‘Your cellmate said something to provoke you, before you attacked him.’ There’s nothing accusatory about his tone.

Harvey resists the urge to curl his fists. He must not get angry. Still his body trembles. ‘He was talking to me about my sister; she’d visited me earlier that day. Things turned violent between us during our visit, she attacked me, but I never laid a hand on her. He said some suggestive things to me that upset me.’

‘I can understand why your sister must’ve been angry with you,’ Michael says. ‘And I can also understand why you felt you’d been provoked.’

Harvey wipes his eyes. ‘I can too, I was expecting it to be honest; she has every right to be angry with me for what I did, but there’s nothing I can do to change the past.’

Harvey glances at the marble floor. At least he’s stopped shaking.

‘Would you like to talk to me about the relationship you have with your sister? Is it something that you would like to see developed further?’ Michael asks tentatively. It's like Michael's taken on the role of his therapist. 

Harvey runs his tongue across the roof of his mouth. He can’t help but notice the intrigue in Michael’s voice as he speaks. Why is he asking him this? It’s like he’s letting his own curiosity get the better of himself again. ‘Of course I’d like to have a relationship with Danielle, but I can’t see how that’s going to be possible, especially after what I’ve did.’ Even if they were to both move back to Marsh View, Harvey can’t imagine it’ll be like a happy ever after.

‘Well, if she could see how remorseful you’ve been,’ Michael says.

Harvey shakes his head. He told her he didn’t regret killing their mum and dad. She won’t forget that. ‘That won’t change her mind.’

Michael lets out a slight cough. ‘Well, I would give her a chance; you’re the only family she has, after all. You should both try and work towards building a strong relationship.’

Harvey runs what Michael’s said to him over in his mind for the next half an hour. He doesn’t really pay any attention to what Michael says next; his mind is totally focused on what a relationship with his sister could look like, if she doesn’t shut him down. This is why he needs her to move back to where they both came from. If she does, then perhaps, he might stand a chance of reforming what they once had. They used to have so much fun together and he loved reading to her of a night before they went to sleep. There were few books in the house, but her favourite one, which she always chose, was The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe.

At half past nine he leaves the chapel. He still gets the sense that things have changed for him since his sister’s visit. He can hear people whispering about him after he passes them in the corridor on the way back to his cell. He wants to turn round, teach them a lesson, but he mustn’t. He would like to think, that the next time he’s up for parole, he would be able to finally leave this place and re-join Oliver and Jeremiah. Surely they want him back there. He can’t languish in prison for the rest of his life. He wants to begin his life anew.

He returns to his cell. At least no one else is here. He reaches under his mattress and pulls out the burner phone he was supplied with. There’s a text from Jeremiah.

Everything’s going well, will give you an update soon.

Harvey sends a text back, his fingers punching the keys on the phone, leaving sweaty marks on the screen. 

Does she want to stay?

He waits a few seconds for Jeremiah to reply and holds his breath when the little dots tell him Jeremiah's typing.

It’s looking like she does, I’ll let you know what happens next.