Time will tell
My darling Jane,
Thank you for your visit last weekend, it has certainly
lifted my spirits. I do not feel that I am struggling, all
the inmates treat me quite fairly, it’s not like I’m
some disgraceful nonce or have committed murder. Maybe being
from the higher echelons of society, they feel that they
can get more out of me by keeping me onside? It’s
only been 7 days now since my arrival; only time will tell.
My cell-mate is Anthony; he’s a big fat man, very
imposing. He descended from Nigeria, but was arrested in
Hounslow. He has hinted at his dark past and ‘big
jobs around Heathrow’, I have no idea what else he
was up to. One thing I have learned is that nobody dares
to talk about their crimes. Some sort of honour amongst
thieves, killers and embezzlers...like me. Almost everyone
is innocent; I may be wet behind the ears but I can tell
in their eyes that this surely isn’t the case.
I am guilty however, for which you know I am truly sorry.
You know that in my heart of hearts that I did this all
for you. You do know that don’t you?
I miss you and Max terribly,
I’m sorry that you could not visit last week. I know
I have put you in the most difficult of positions. Tidying
up the mess I have caused will no doubt have its consequences.
Hopefully I have made enough legitimate money to cover your
living costs for yourself and little Max. I hope he’s
setting in to his new school. I hope also that he has a
thought for his old man too.
I must confess to shedding a tear or two lately. The nights
are cold and long, or some fool is kicking up a fuss further
down the wing. I am kept awake and my thoughts are constantly
of freedom and the life I have left behind. I was a fool
to think I could not be caught, Jane. You don’t think
any ill of me, do you? I crave so many things, but above
all your forgiveness. I fear I have left you so much shame
to contend with. No amount of money could possibly appease
that shame, whether it was obtained legally or otherwise.
Anthony has been keeping me company; he has shown me the
way for which I am eternally grateful. The basic rules seem
to be similar to a child; speak when spoken to, be seen
but not heard! In some ways, this is much like a school.
There is a hierarchy, for sure; you know who the leaders
are and who idly follow like pathetic sheep.
There is a brute of a man who seems to lord over the wing.
They call him Tempest. He seems to have tentacles throughout
the wing, nothing happens without Tempest knowing about
it. The system works for him, not the other way around.
He must stand nearly 7 feet tall and is covered in tattoos
from head to toe. So the story goes, he killed 3 men with
his bare hands! Can you imagine? He has purportedly killed
many more people too. Which crime led him here I am not
I must rest now, I am so tired.
Always in my thoughts,
Alas I fear your Christmas card may have been way-laid.
I have sent you and Max what I can, it’s not much
I’m afraid. I do hope you are well, I have not heard
from you in...Well, it seems like forever.
Time is taking its toll on me; my sentence does not seem
to be getting any closer to its conclusion. I am losing
a lot of weight and the initial curiosity of this harsh
environment has now lost its initial quirky yet desolate
charm. The prisoners seem to have lost their charm also,
especially for yours truly. They poke fun at my accent and
ask such inane questions like “Do you know Shakespeare?”
– Honestly, Jane, I ask you! A couple of times I have
had my dinner thrust from my very hands, not that it’s
any loss, the slop is not exactly Foie Gras!
Anthony had cause to give me a slap too. I managed to spill
some tea on one of his ‘jazz’ mags. He wasn’t
impressed and slapped me about the temple. I dare say I
deserved it. I deserve all of these shortcomings, if you
Anthony apologized to me later, but only because I could
not stop crying.
Tempest has also been having fun. One of the younger scrotes
thought it a wheeze to steal one of his tea bags. Tempest
took a shiv to the poor sap, cut off most of his right ear
and ate it, right before his very eyes without so much as
flicker of emotion. I tell you, Jane – this man is
the purest of evil!
I’m so lonely without you, Jane. Have a very Merry
Not a word from you in a long while. Have I not provided
enough for you? Would half an hour of your precious time
kill you to visit your husband? You’d think I had
killed someone the way you and these animals are treating
I have received more beatings lately. Ever since the episode
with Antony and his bloody porn he has become so very precious
with his items. It is all so very petty and tiresome. I
cannot even brush my teeth without as much as a sarcastic
comment. I try to argue my point in a thought out and reasoned
manner, but he only has to raise a hand to me and I cower.
Do you not care, Jane? Can you not see I need some respite
from this dank despair?
I shall keep this short as I fear you are not even reading
my missives and my hands are sore from having to defend
myself from all and sundry.
I love you, do you love me?
Where are you? Do you really despise me this much? You would
have thought I have raped the bloody Queen for the treatment
My cynical side cannot think beyond the fact that you will
have eloped with Ryan the Gardener. I have left you in excess
of £2.5 million pounds, Woman! Though if you have
sold the Bentley and the Aston, I will fucking come down
on you like a ton of bricks, you filthy whore. When I get
out, I shall find you – you know I will. The villa
in Saratoga is where I will find you, for sure. Don’t
think I won’t find you.
That is if I get out, of course. Life in here is becoming
totally unbearable, so much so I can hardly call it a ‘life’.
That freak of a man Tempest has had me in his cell. I struggled
for all I was worth, but he carried me like a bag and tossed
me inside. I cannot begin to tell what he does with me,
though it’s no doubt similar to what that utter shit
Ryan is doing to you.
I am all out of tears, I hope you all rot.
Wishing you every misery,
This will be my last message, Jane. I am evidently worth
nothing more to you than the dirt which you have scraped
from your shoe. I thought I meant more to you than this;
leaving me to suffer with these filthy disgusting dogs.
You are clearly no better than Tempest; the illiterate grunting
halfwit, or those bastard Guards that do precisely fuck
all to help me with my excruciating plight.
Not that you give a single thought about me anymore. I should
have seen right through you. You all could be implicit in
putting me here, for all I know. You, Max, Anthony and Tempest.
Miserable shits all of you.
Do you know what irks me? No, not you being pleasured by
someone 30 years my junior, whom I employed, I hasten to
add. Not even being betrayed by Anthony who I thought genuinely
cared for me. Not even Tempest who has dehumanised me to
my very core – it is that you will gain even more
financially from my life insurance! If could raise a laugh
at the irony, I would.
How could you turn on me? What did I do that was so bad,
Jane? Oh why do I bother, you have not answered a single
question of mine in all the months I have been slowly been
losing my mind, body and spirit. If I could regurgitate
enough to spit on your face, I surely would. It’s
no more than you deserve, you saggy decrepit bitch witch!
I hope you and your bastard love-child are happy. (I know
he is not mine, I have always known.)
I bid you farewell, I shall see you in HELL. I cannot take
Giles Icarus Theodore Thorpe.
The letters to Jane never arrived. They were never even
sent. Tempest saw to that.
Giles Thorpe committed suicide on February 17th by hanging.