You can't be sure, Joanne said, over a year ago now, what she wants you for.
She wants him to get out. That's something.
And third, he wants it too. It? To find out. To see. He wants to tell her that just as much as he wants to tell her all over again that he can never put the past behind him. That he has to respond to Hazel's request. Will she help him? Let him, anyway? Yes, he will do the fucking course! He'll jump hoops! But there will never be a line drawn. He'll be released, eventually, but never actually free. Does she understand this?
He's shaking a bit. There's the photograph of Charlotte, fixed above the table. There's notepaper, envelopes. In a letter, you can get it all down, everything; you can say exactly what you want. But a letter won't get there until Tuesday at the earliest. There's a phone card in his back pocket. He can use it at 6 p.m. tonight, so long as she is at home. If she isn't, he'll worry; he'll be there until he gets an answer. Finally, he'll hear her voice.
âAre you OK? Look,' he'll say, âI'm sorry, Charlotte. This is difficult, Charlotteâ'
Over a decade ago, I spent a year working as Writer in Residence at HMP Nottingham. During this time and afterwards, I visited a number of other men's prisons in the UK. My observations of these various institutions do of course inform
Alphabet
, but it is important to make clear that, just like the characters, the institutions and regimes described in the book are entirely fictional. They are, I hope, plausible for the time, but not intended to represent any particular prison or treatment programme within it.
It is never possible to remember or to fit everyone who has helped in the writing of a book into the acknowledgements. In the past I have allowed this to prevent me from even trying. In this case, it is even more difficult than usual, since some of those who have helped are out of touch, may not want to be mentioned, could be living outside again with new names, and so on. However, this makes the list shorter and perversely, I will try this time.
For invaluable help, direct or indirect, in researching and writing
Alphabet
I am particularly indebted to the following people and groups, although of course, my mistakes are very much my own: Wendy Silberman; Maggy Topley; Erwin James (author of
A Life Inside
); the Prison Reform Trust; the
Prison Service Journal
; many of the inmates and staff, especially those in Education at HMP Nottingham; Angela Devlin (author of
Cell Mates
,
Soul Mates
); David Wilson; Hazel Banks; Christopher Russell; David Cooke; Neil Blacklock; Lesley Moreland (for her book
An Ordinary Murder
); Ursula Smartt (for her book
Grendon Tales
); Waterside Press (for its excellent range of publications on crime and punishment in the UK); the late Tony Parker (for his interviews in
Life after Life
and
The Frying Pan
). A special mention goes to the Arts Council of Great Britain, who many years ago granted me a writer's bursary for this project, and to Bobbi and Gordon Ruckle, who built me an office so that I could finally get to grips with it.
The most heartfelt thanks of all goes to Richard Steel, for his encouragement and support. More encouragement and thought-provoking responses to early drafts came from my writing friends, especially Vicky Grut and Helen Heffernan; from my agent, Lesley Shaw, and my tactful but ruthless editor, Helen Garnons-Williams. Without all of you I would not have finished what I began.