He didn't go insane and he didn't try to kill himself. He did not emerge wise, mellow, saintly, sadistic, Muslim, or affianced to a Kennedy.
He didn't get raped or molested or approached homosexually in any way, which he came to feel quite hurt about after a while.
He did get a job in the prison library.
He read more and watched more television and masturbated less than he had done when he was living at home.
He smoked more cannabis than he had done either at home or at the camp or in Amsterdam or at Darren's, so much so that he eventually grew bored of it and took up chain-smoking normal cigarettes instead.
He didn't come out with a book contract or a string of qualifications, nor did he emerge an expert on birds, church roofs or rare antiques. He did complete another two months of his media studies course but in the end packed it in again, partly due to the sheer imbecility of the topics and partly because it was cutting into his television-watching time.
He met some unusual and interesting people and heard some unusual and interesting stories, and he met some sad and pathetic people and heard some sad and pathetic stories. He met some lazy and stupid people and he met some just plain not very nice people.
He learned a lot about the successful planning and execution of crime, but he also learned that he himself was no more cut out to be a successful criminal than he was to be a successful businessman or politician or executive.
He did make a vow to really live once he got out, but when he did get out he realized he still didn't have a clue how to start.
The first step was to see his parole officer.
"Fancy meeting you here," said his parole officer.
"Small world," said Kevin, for his parole officer was Call-me-Keith. It seemed that he had eventually been asked to resign from the rehabilitation centre over the corners he had cut with the paperwork in releasing Darren, although Darren, as he had in the meantime shown he could live in the community without causing trouble, had not been recalled as defective.
"The first step," said Call-me-Keith as he leafed through Kevin's file, "is to find you gainful employment."
"But who's going to want me?" Kevin asked. "I mean I couldn't find a job before and I've done time now."
"There are actually a number of companies prepared to take an enlightened view of that. I think I know of a position that'll be ideal for you." Call-me-Keith picked up the phone and dialled. "Ah, hello. Keith Entwistle at the probation service here. I think I might have someone for that vacancy you mentioned, if it's still open? It is? Splendid. Shall we say nine o'clock tomorrow? Oh yes of course ten then. Yes of course he'll take the salary, he's in no position to...that's right. Wonderful. Bye-bye then." He put the phone down and smiled. "The Happy House Dishwasher Service Corporation," he said. "A most enlightened and modern company. I've placed a number of people with them."
Chapter 24
Back to Contents page
Back to my Homepage