Authors: Vicky Pryce
There were not very many of us but most were regulars, augmented periodically by short-termers like me. Some did not use the books provided but seemed to be able to sing the songs nevertheless but I was never able to ascertain whether this was because they knew most of those hundreds of hymns by heart, having been in prison a long time, or in fact because they just couldn’t read and therefore had to memorise them. Research has shown that women prisoners in particular are likely to have, or be bordering upon having, a learning disability – roughly 40 per cent, compared to 27–30 per cent of male prisoners.
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Generally, 7 per cent of prisoners have an IQ below 70, with another 25 per cent having an IQ between 70 and 80.
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Some 48 per cent of prisoners have a
reading
age of eleven or lower.
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I had at times come
across girls who would ask me to read what was on the notices for them and even add their names to lists and there were certainly a couple of them in the church group.
The girls also liked to participate wholeheartedly in the debating sessions that we had once a week where we would take a passage from the Bible and analyse it. One of the most interesting debates was about forgiveness, which caused many a problem given the feelings many of the girls had about the people who they believed had got them there. The stories they told as they expressed their feelings were often heartbreaking. One ‘lifer’ explained how in her moment of deepest despair she had found God and was able to function from then on; her story brought tears to all our eyes.
The most attendees I counted one day was ten, the girls enjoying the clapping and loud singing the Pentecostal team encouraged. The first time the team came while I was there, their leader was unable to come in as she had forgotten to bring any
identification
with her. She had to stay in her car while the rest of the group tried to keep us half-heartedly and very apologetically entertained. The small
congregation
was very disappointed but fortunately the leader managed to arrive with full identification papers next time they tried and great fun was had by all. I had to close the door of the room to muffle some of the sound as my roommates next door were trying to watch TV and I wouldn’t have been very popular on my return at the end of the session, but never have I heard such enthusiastic singing from my fellow residents. The way I managed to keep my
roommates
on side was by always bringing them back the biscuits on offer; on their return from their evening
cigarette they would find them on their beds neatly put on napkins like offerings before the evening roll call at 8 p.m.
Those sessions became part of life there and I became strangely dependent on them. My period there was punctuated by a number of religious events going on in the national and global stage. First of all was Easter, which brought us all together quite a lot, but then we also had the news of the resignation of the Pope and the vote for the new one – I had no idea that the residents were so interested in the process, the anticipation, the waiting, the endless camera shots of presenters at the Vatican like Jon Snow trying to guess when the white smoke would blow out, the endless interviews with the UK head of the Catholic church, who was there and willing to give interviews, speculation about the way any new Pope would go. There were endless discussions among the residents about who the new Pope might be and what the consequences would be – it was almost outdoing
Casualty
for popularity. I had not realised that we had a number of Catholics among us but there was
genuine
interest by many residents no matter their religion.
Then there was the ordination of the new Archbishop of Canterbury on 21 March, all happening not that far away from ESP in Kent. Our chaplain was invited to be there – and was clearly very pleased to be going and had warned us (a number of times lest we forgot) that he would have to miss the session we were due to have mid-week as a result. The ‘congregation’ was very excited about it. I had only a passing interest except for the fact that the new Archbishop, Justin Welby, used to work in the oil industry, which I had also done for a while, though for different companies.
But what interested me was that these religious organisations were filling the gap the social services were leaving in the rehabilitation process. The community chaplaincy helps people integrate and connect with faith communities outside which give continuing mentoring and other support and also puts them in touch with other specialised
organisations
that may be able to provide further help. The chaplain explained to me that although the Christian faith generally encouraged forgiveness and
reintegration
, some of the other faiths didn’t necessarily as they considered committing an offence an act against their religion; some women often found themselves shamed and ostracised and unable to return to their
communities
. There had been some cases of girls changing faith and starting new lives but needing extra help to do so which the community chaplaincy tried to provide.
My research assistant, Nicola Clay, currently based at the Institute of Criminology in Cambridge, had previously carried out a study looking at the significant role faith played in the experience of imprisonment. Through a number of in-depth
interviews
with male prisoners at HMP Littlehey, she found that Christian teachings about God’s love and forgiveness helped the men to take responsibility for their offences, and for their rehabilitation, as did the support of the chaplaincy team. Indeed for some, it had been their faith that had led them to handing themselves in, realising that they needed to own up and seek help so that they could break free from their offending behaviour. Many also felt that
imprisonment
provided them with an opportunity to show love and support to their fellow prisoners, often
transforming
the meanings they gave to their time inside.
This sense of purpose was echoed in the way they saw their faith as a way towards their own rehabilitation, providing them with an alternative lifestyle, a moral framework to live by and a way of working through the difficult experiences from their pasts that had led to them offending in the first place.
More broadly, many of those interviewed spoke of how the chaplaincy provided a place of respite from the dehumanising effects of imprisonment, and allowed them to ‘feel like a human being again’. They also gained a sense of peace from the idea that God, rather than the prison authorities, was in ultimate control of their lives.
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Much of this mirrored what I saw at ESP. In our airy and light multi-faith room we were all treated with respect, there was discussion and debate and we were listened to as we voiced our various opinions and thoughts and discussed things, like the meaning of various passages from the Bible, in such a way that allowed us all to lift ourselves from our human
conditions
and move to a different level of understanding and feeling. There was also compassion and
willingness
to share experiences and listen to other people’s feelings and as such it was very liberating. I did not discover God, or at least I didn’t discover anything spiritual over and above what I already believed in, but I now think that these sessions were seriously therapeutic – I was not aware of the real difference they were making at the time but I always left with a feeling of well-being, and not just because of the excellent mango juice and chocolate biscuits.
There is a long tradition of the church helping women in prison. It started in earnest with Elizabeth Fry, the great Christian philanthropist and prison reformer, who
did a lot to highlight the conditions of women in
prisons
at the beginning of the nineteenth century. In 1818 she gave evidence to the House of Commons committee on the conditions in women’s prisons – the first woman ever to present evidence in Parliament. She had been instrumental in encouraging women to read the Bible as a way of getting them to help themselves, something that continues to this day under the stewardship of the chaplains in each prison. It seemed rather sad when I discovered soon after my release that the Bank of England had announced plans to replace the image of Elizabeth Fry on the £5 note with one of Winston Churchill. It was worrying that the departing Bank of England governor, Sir Mervyn King, admirable in many other ways, should leave behind him on his retirement a monetary policy committee (MPC) and a financial policy committee consisting of only men and banknotes which, although all featuring the Queen, should have no other female in the long history of Britain worthy of mention on them. His successor, Mark Carney, later announced that the £10 note will now feature Jane Austen. That is good in itself but I can’t see why, just as the issue of women in prison has risen up on the agenda, we can’t have more than one woman on our banknotes – or a female on the MPC again.
There is now proof beyond reasonable doubt that I have achieved universal name recognition, for better or worse. Denise, a mature lady convicted of trying to defraud her mother-in-law, showed me a long
interview
printed in the
Telegraph
with Nancy Dell’Olio, who mentioned my name casually during her
interview
without needing to explain who I was. For the
uninitiated, Nancy is an accomplished Italian lawyer who came to fame in the UK as the girlfriend for a period of Sven-Göran Eriksson, once manager of the English football team. At the time of her interview she was in the process, I believe, of moving out of the £2.5m home belonging to Sven which she had refused to vacate all those years since their breakup. Fun to read. I like football and she is a feisty lady. Not the type my judge would like, said my fellow residents. Aanjay suggested I should get in touch with Nancy when I got out as she is probably a great woman. I fantasised for a while about us meeting up and going out to supper together one day. That would be sure to put the paparazzi in a real spin. But then again maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea after all. But fun, yes… So if Nancy is reading this and fancies a cup of coffee, by all means get in touch.
The girls insisted that it was certain, now, that I would be asked to go on
Celebrity Big Brother
or
I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here
! They fantasised about how we could all go as a team once they were out and they would come as my assistants. I
ridiculed
the idea that this would ever happen but how wrong can you be. After I left ESP and the invitation to appear on
Celebrity Big Brother
was sent to my publishers I realised how much more with it the girls in ESP were. I laughed, wrote to the girls to say they had indeed been correct in their expectations but that I had declined. Nevertheless one of them later wrote to me to say that the
Daily Mirror
in mid-August was still carrying a story saying that I was listed as a
possible
Celebrity Big Brother
contestant… Oh well…
My lawyer visited today with his assistant Sarah, who had helped me through the trial and with whom
I had walked in front of the photographers every day. Robert had not brought her with her last time in Holloway but decided to do so in his first visit to ESP. And the meeting was great. We were allowed to use the so-called ‘quiet room’, also known as the ‘
listening
room’, a tiny little cubicle near my bedroom but with very comfortable armchairs with one of the
officers
taking orders for tea and coffee and then bringing it to us. Very civilised. More news from the outside, some instructions from me and then I escorted them to the door by noon, in time for my roll call and lunch at 12.15. I have to say that for such an experienced lawyer it was clear that he didn’t know what to expect. I suspect that Robert’s clients commit more
dangerous
crimes and I didn’t get the impression that he had ever had a female client before or that he had visited a women’s prison. I think the nearest he has come to representing someone in my position again was when he was hired to give advice during the marriage break up between Charles Saatchi and Nigella Lawson, which resulted in lots of articles in the press about the abuse of women and which ended with a caution for Saatchi and divorce for the two of them. I have never discovered which side Robert had been on.
That afternoon we had more inductions and when the time came to visit the education department in the purpose-built building at the end of the garden we had a real emergency. The photographers, it seemed, were still there, having failed to take a picture the
previous
Sunday. They were now camping behind the trees on the wall that surrounded the lovely church of St Peter and St Paul, which dates back to the thirteenth century and which was just at the edge of the garden. You could walk by the side of it, as the girls did,
admittedly the small number who took their exercise seriously and who went outside for reasons other than just to smoke and chat, which is what most others did – except sunbathing in the summer.
At times there would be weddings or christenings and the bells that rang frequently to the annoyance of anyone trying to take a nap would ring even more joyfully. And that would seriously excite most of the residents, who would all come out and stand as close they could without being intrusive and look and admire the bridesmaids, groom and guests who were walking around the church in full view of us before the ceremony. Lovely bride, they would say, lovely beautiful bridesmaids – and their eyes would water.
The church was so close that there was an ‘out of bounds’ sign serving as a warning that we were normally not allowed to go the extra 3 feet and through the little gate into the cemetery and then the church. These ‘out of bounds’ notices were, I understood, put up relatively recently after a resident had been told off for going ‘out’ and then successfully argued that as she hadn’t been there long enough she had not learned yet what was ‘in’ and what was ‘out’. For me those discreet signs were very useful as you had to be licensed or have permission normally to leave the area within the confined grounds of the prison – though some of the girls who were already past their FLED were allowed to go to church with the chaplain at Christmas and Easter. I wouldn’t reach my date until I was discharged on Home Detention Curfew (HDC) so I would have to make my own way independently if I wanted to visit it. I vouched I would. But in the meantime the lovely grey church was so close to us I could just about touch it with my arms outstretched.