While I was in London I went to see one of Jade’s friends. His nickname’s Multi on account of the fact that he once misplaced his car in a multi-storey car park for over four hours. He was banged up in stuffy old Brixton prison, and it happened like this.
He got in a fight with this bloke. About what I don’t know, it could even have been about nothing, and the police arrived and they split them up and arrested Multi. He’ll tell you it’s because he’s black. Either way, the police charged Multi-Storey with aggravated affray and he got taken to court and they brought the full weight of the law down upon him. One police officer gave evidence and said that Mr Multi had been wielding a knife and that he’d thrown it as hard as he could when the coppers turned up and that it went in the River Thames. Two other coppers swore on the Bible that Multi had a knife and was trying to use it. The other guy, he slipped through their fingers and they never got a good look at him, they said. Well, Multi said he didn’t have a knife, and I believe him because Jade told me he’s not like that. Anyway, the missing knife did it for him - he got sent down to reside at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, as they euphemistically call it. See, in Britain they’re really tough on people who carry weapons, and sometimes they’re just tough on people like Multi.
It always comes as something of a surprise to me that Brixton Prison is actually in the middle of Brixton. I know it shouldn’t be a shock, what with it being called Brixton Prison and all that, but my image of a prison is, I suppose, of Dartmoor Prison where it’s in the middle of a moor.
So I went visiting. I joined the queue of people waiting to go in. In truth it wasn’t much of a queue. It’s not like in the films where a crowd of young, slightly put-upon but often still sexy women with screaming, bawling children hanging on their coat tails are waiting to see their Dad, or middle-aged women in curlers are hanging out for a cup of tea and a fag while looking forward to a few words with their young Darryl. No, it’s altogether bleaker than that. Most people don’t get any visitors at all and this fine morning I was the only one going to see Multi.  
“In my cell man, there’s this pane of glass missing.”
I looked at him across the table. “Well, it is bloody hot, mate. Maybe it’ll help keep the place cool.”
“Yeah, it gets hot as a fuckin’ Tube train man. Hot as that.”
“I know what you mean,” I said.
“But soon it’ll be winter.”
I hadn’t thought he’d be there that long but of course he would. Winter was going to come along soon enough.
“Look,” I said, “I’ll send you some money. Maybe someone can fix it for you.”
“No man, don’t send it. They’ll just nick the money. I know people here been sent money before and it never gets to them. Never.”
“Okay. What can I do?”
Multi looked around. I thought there’d be glass between us. The sort that’s so thick you can only hear muffled words. But this is Brixton Prison and they don’t have stuff like that.
“Me mum. She can get stuff to me in here.”
“How’s she do that then? Stick it in a cake or something?”
“Don’t be havin’ me man. Me mum has her ways.”
“Fair enough.”
“So maybe you can give something to her?”
“Maybe I can,” I said, “and maybe there’s something you can do for me.”
Multi snorted. “Yeah, man. Me banged up in here.”
I looked at him, “When you get out,” I said quietly.
“Okay,” he said when I’d told him.
He took a deep breath and let it out slow and I realised it was difficult for him to be in here. “So, how’s me Jade then?”
I laughed. “She’s really well. Getting browner and browner in the bloody sun.”
Multi looked at me and said quietly. “Turned out okay for both of you, didn’t it?”
I looked down at my hands on the table, took a deep breath and then looked up at him again.
“There’s some luck, there’s some other stuff. I don’t know half of what it is, and of course there’s finding Jade. That’s it really.”
He nodded and I said, leaning forward, “It’s hard to see you in here. It’s not good at all.”
He laughed. “Things’ll work out, man. They always do.”