Perry Scrimshaw's Rite of Passage (23 page)

‘
Yes Father,’
Perry did up the buttons on his shirt.

Perry was glad that the
autumnal days were cooler, he couldn’t imagine wearing double
clothes in the summer. As it was, sweat collected at the base of
his back and under his arms.

After lights out, he undressed
under the cover of darkness. Cool air relieved his hot skin. He
flattened Santi’s set and hid them under the mattress. It would be
fine overnight - as far as he could tell the cell searches only
happened when the prisoners were working or during Mass.

Prostrate on his bed, Perry
listened to the clinks, footsteps, snores and whispers; the links
that made up the chain of night. The first step had gone well
enough, but it was just one of the many things that needed to fall
into place. He plotted with the ceiling in the dark, trying to work
out how he’d manage to dye the stolen pyjamas with ink from the
Press.

On Monday, he wore both sets of
clothes to Press and Martín threatened to ruin his whole plan.

‘
Perry, you
bored of the ink yet?’ Martín was walking towards him, wiping his
hands with a rag.

‘
Not really. I
quite like it.’

‘
I was
thinking, maybe I show you how to set paper feed and maintain the
cutters?’

‘
No, I’m happy
doing this thanks Martín.’

‘
Come on! What
wrong with you? Is boring no? Hard on the arms?’

Perry flexed his biceps. ‘I’ve
got arms like tree trunks now.’

‘
Are you
scared? Is no hard once I show.’

This was starting to worry him
now; Martín was rarely so obstinate with him.

‘
Please
Martín, I’m fine as I am, I don’t want to do any other
duties.’

‘
No
accept.’

Perry tensed up. ‘What do you
mean, “no accept?” ’

‘
I run Press.
What if Osvaldo go sick? I need cover.’

‘
But you cover
it don’t you?’

‘
And what if I
go sick Perry?’

He thought for a second. ‘You
get Osvaldo to cover.’

‘
And if we
both sick?’

‘
That’s a bit
unlikely isn’t it?’

‘
Don’t you see
Perry? Is
problemático
. Osvaldo and me, we no be here forever. Today is last time
you on ink.’

‘
No!’ he could
see the force of his denial shock Martín back. Perry held up his
palms to placate. ‘Martín, please, this is all too sudden. How
about I do the ink today, and then I’ll learn some other
duties.’

‘
It really
mean that much to you Perry?’

‘
I want to say
goodbye.’

Martín’s eyes narrowed. ‘You
strange boy Perry.’

‘
It must be an
English thing,’ Perry held out his hand. ‘Is that a yes
then?’

Martín grasped
it. ‘
Sí.
’

The machine started up.

‘
Let’s get to
it,’ Perry said with a smile. Martín hurried off and Perry let the
smile slip from his face. He had no idea how he would dye the
second set of clothes once Santi had stolen them, but he couldn’t
worry about that now – there was enough to worry about as it was
with dying the first set.

Perry powered through the
morning shift in a similar fashion to the machine: unthinking,
efficient and relentless. He was roasting in his layers, but he
kept going back and forth to the ink store as normal, not wanting
to arouse any suspicion. When the bell went for lunch, the inkwell
was at the three-quarters mark, just as he’d planned. The Press
workers left their stations and headed for the door.

‘
You coming
Perry?’ called Osvaldo.

‘
I’m just
going to top her up now, save me doing it at the end of lunch. Save
me a spot at the table.’

‘
No problem.
Surprised to see you slowing up a bit, thought you were a
profesional
?’ Osvaldo
gave him a playful wink.

It was true, he had been a bit
slower, but it was deliberate. He needed the time for the next part
of his plan.

‘
We can’t all
be as consistently brilliant as you
amigo.’

The Press guard was flicking
through a copy of their freshly printed newspaper and looked up at
them.

‘
Stop
nattering and get to lunch. Be quick
Inglés
,’ the guard returned to the
paper. Could he really read?

Perry hurried to the ink store
and snatched a bucket from one of the shelves. He placed it under
the ink barrel, flipped the tap and let the black spindly fluid hit
the bottom. He left the ink running into the bucket and grabbed a
pre-filled can off the shelf and made a journey to the inkwell. He
glanced up to see the guard watching him as he poured.

‘
That should
just about do it. Just need to put it away now.’

‘
Hurry up. I
don’t want to be last at the canteen. If I get cold potatoes I’ll
make your life a misery.’

‘
Potatoes
today is it? What a treat. Don’t worry, I’m the quickest there is,’
Perry jogged back to the store. He switched the tap off, slithered
out of his top layer of pyjamas and lowered them into the bucket.
Using the snout of the ink can, he dunked the fabric deeper into
the black liquid. He wiped his sweaty inky palms on his clean
under-pyjamas. His heart was pounding as he edged the bucket under
the shelves, careful not to let the ink slop, he didn’t have time
to clean up.

He hurried
out, glad to see the guard still positioned at the door, his copy
of
La Nación
tucked under his arm.

‘
I thought you
were supposed to be quick,’ he growled.

‘
I thought
that
was
quick…
come on, let’s try and nab some of those potatoes before they run
out.’

2
6

The next day at Press, Martín
presented the new ink runner to the team. He was a young man called
Ricardo, fresh in and a few years older than Perry. He had a stocky
frame and greeted each member with a firm pump of the hand.

‘
Un c
horro
más,’
Martín rolled his
eyes.
One more thief. ‘He’ll fit right
in.’

Everyone laughed and Perry
found himself joining in.

‘
What we’d
give for a nice murderer or fraudster, just for a change,’ said
Osvaldo.

Ricardo looked at them like
they were all mad.

‘
Don’t worry,’
Perry said. ‘Unless you mess up of course. Then they get really
odd.’

Ricardo smiled nervously,
making them all laugh again. Martín clapped an arm on Ricardo’s
shoulder.

‘
We joke of
course. Perry will show you all you need to do.’

‘
Come on. It’s
pretty easy.’ Perry shot Martín a look. ‘I learnt from the
best.’

Released from his ink duties,
Perry shadowed Osvaldo on the paper feed for the first hour. It
seemed to be mostly about checking for alignment. It was boring and
he found his mind wandering towards the ink store.

‘
Do you mind
if I go and check on Ricardo?’ asked Perry.

Osvaldo nodded. ‘When you come
back I’ll explain you how to deal with a paper jam.’

From the upper platform he
could already see Ricardo lumbering back from the inkwell.

‘
You’ll need
to go faster than that!’

Ricardo pulled a face.
‘Why?’

Perry hurried over and checked
the level.

‘
Oh Jesus,’ he
said, thinking perhaps he could bank that for his next
confession.

‘
Is that bad?’
asked Ricardo.

‘
It’s only a
little over a third full. I think we’re going to need some help.’
He put his fingers in his mouth to whistle.

‘
No-’ said
Ricardo, ‘I hear working the Press is one of the better places to
work, I don’t want them to see that I’m falling behind on the first
day.’

‘
It’s fine,
the guys helped me all the time when I started.’

‘
No, but that
Uruguayan guy - he got chucked out didn’t he? Maybe you could help
me just this once. Nobody would need to know.’

Perry ran it over quickly in
his mind. This could play to his favour.

‘
Ok, you have
to be quick and do what I say.’

They went to the store. Perry
checked the spare ink cans. Only one was full.

‘
Take this,
run over, top up the inkwell and get back here quickly as you can.
I’ll top up these spares.’

Ricardo nodded and left the ink
store. Perry filled the cans as quickly as he could, dispatching
Ricardo to fill them up until he had three full cans ready and
lined up outside the store; it would buy him some time.

Perry leapt into action. The
bucket was still under the shelves where he’d hidden it. He dragged
it out, rolled up his sleeves and dunked his hands in. The ink felt
strange and thick on his skin. He fished out the pyjamas. They were
black as eye pupils, dripping. He knew it was going to be messy and
wondered if he’d been too rash in trying to do this now. It was too
late to go back. He heard Ricardo drop an empty and pick up
another.

Perry wrung the fabric with all
his might. The ink spilled through his fingers and palms into the
bucket below. He then wrung it in three smaller sections: top
middle and bottom, getting out as much liquid as he could. He
shoved the pyjamas under the bottom shelf to dry.

‘
What are you
doing?’

Perry turned. It was the guard.
He’d never been checked up on by a guard in the ink store
before.

‘
Oh, I er-’ he
stammered.

‘
I said, what
the hell are you doing?’

Ricardo appeared behind the
guard. ‘Excuse me, can I get through I need to top up the
cans.’

Perry looked at the guard.
‘He’s the new ink runner. I’m helping him out as he was falling
behind.’

‘
That
true?’

Ricardo nodded but the guard
looked implacable. Turning back to Perry. ‘And why are you covered
in ink?’

Perry looked at his black
hands, smudged shirt and the ink-spattered floor. ‘Spillage. It
happens sometimes when you rush. I was looking for a rag.’

The guard grunted. ‘Well find
one and get this shit cleaned up double-fast or I’ll turn you
upside down and use your head as a mop.’

He left and Perry puffed his
cheeks in relief.

‘
Was that
bad?’ Ricardo asked.

It definitely was. Perry did
not need the guards sniffing around the ink store.

‘
It could be,
how are the ink levels looking now?’

‘
Well, we’re
over half.’

‘
Good,’ said
Perry, ‘I’ll help you with a couple more, then I’ll clean up and
leave you for a bit.’

‘
I’m sorry,
all this is my fault. I’m not fast enough am I?’

‘
It’s your
first day, don’t worry, you’re doing well. Just keep at
it.’

Perry helped with a few more
top ups and returned to Osvaldo. He had already decided not to
mention the guard to anyone. ‘You took your time. How’s the new kid
coming along?’

He offered up his inky
hands.

‘
That
bad?’

Perry leant on the railing and
watched the blur of paper rush by. ‘I’m sure he’ll get there.’

On Friday, Perry snuck back to
Press before the end of lunch. He made doubly sure there were no
guards about. In the ink store he got down on all fours and felt
the fabric of the pyjamas; they were dry, just as he’d hoped. He
stripped off and put on his newly dyed pyjamas as the under layer.
He paused for a moment and admired the effect. The loose fitting
pyjamas dyed black were just what he’d hoped for, almost robe-like.
He didn’t look like a prisoner. He looked like a man of the
cloth.

27

Perry kept the black pyjamas
stowed in his pillowcase. It wasn’t ideal, but the only other
option would be to wear them under his usual garb - and that felt
riskier. All it would take was a stray moment of forgetfulness:
unbuttoning his collar at Press, or rolling up his sleeves in
Dining Hall or forgetting to change into one set before his daily
wash. The pillowcase risked only a cell search, and though he
feared it, it was blissfully out of his control. Fate was a more
palatable harbinger of doom than his own stupidity.

It wasn’t just cell searches he
was worried about. He’d not spoken to Santi alone for days. The
more he tried to seek the lank Argentine out, the more he realised
that Santi was a man under closer watch than the rest of the
prisoners. Bringing Santi on board wasn’t perhaps the wisest move
after all. He’d needed Santi to steal the pyjamas and he had a set
now… cutting Santi loose after all he’d promised felt wrong, but
he’d done worse in the past. There was much to think about.

That evening, Perry queued with
Osvaldo and Ricardo for their daily wash.

‘
Next three!’
the guard barked and handed Perry the bucket.

‘
I can’t get
over how three days work in the Press equals this,’ Perry
complained, giving his sponge a squeeze.

‘
And a week
equals this,’ Ricardo had a bar of soap in his hands. ‘Whoever
works the currency for this stuff must think he’s a funny
guy.’