Shape of Snakes

Correspondence from Michael Percy, son of Sharon-

convicted of armed robbery and serving out his sentence

at the Verne Prison, Portland-formerly of 28 Graham

Road-dated 1999

In replying to this letter, please write on the envelope:

Number: V50934

Name: Michael Percy

Wing: B2

B2 WING

HMP THE VERNE

PORTLAND

DORSET

DT5 1EQ

To: Mrs. M. Ranelagh

Jacaranda

Hightor Road

Cape Town

South Africa

February 1, 1999

Dear Mrs. Ranelagh,

First, don't worry about getting your dad to send me stamps. There's a lot of foreign guys at the Verne-drug smugglers and suchlike who get picked up at the airports as they come in-so the prison lets us swap inland stamps for airmail letters. That's okay, as I've no one to write to except Bridget.

As you can imagine, life's pretty grim inside, but I've only myself to blame. Every prisoner's a volunteer, if you think about it. You say you read what I did in the newspapers and your dad used a mate of his in the prison service to locate me. Well, I'm glad about that. You were always my favorite teacher though you may not want to keep writing when I tell you everything they said about me was true. I'm ashamed of it now, but it's pretty two-faced to say sorry afterward, don't you reckon? The judge said I was dangerous because I had no conscience, but I'd say it's lack of wisdom that's the problem. I've never been able to recognize in advance the things I was going to regret-simple as that.

You ask me what I remember about the black lady who lived next door to us on Graham Road. Quite a lot, as it happens. She used to drive my mother nuts with her bad-mouthing about "whores" and "cunts" and "trash" and suchlike. One time Mum emptied a bucket of water over her head from our upstairs window when she spotted her peering over our fence, and old Annie howled like a banshee because she thought it was piss. It's probably cruel to say it now-seeing as how she's dead-but it was pretty funny at the time.

It'd be easier if you listed the things you want to know. I never liked her much, that's for sure. She damn near chopped Alan Slater's hand off when she caught him inside her house-went for him with a meat cleaver and only missed by inches. He was shaking like a leaf for days afterward. Okay, he shouldn't have been nicking off of her but it's a bit heavy to go for a kid with a hatchet when all he did was take a useless wooden statue from her sitting room.

Still, like I say, you need to tell me what you want. It wasn't just my mum and Alan's mum she drove mad. She got most of the street riled up. I remember this woman she used to follow home every time she went shopping and shout "dirty tart" after her, and it didn't half make her mad. I watched her take a swipe at Mad Annie once with her shopping bag, then end up ass over tit in the gutter. That was pretty funny, too. The silly cow fancied herself something rotten.

I guess what you really want to know is who killed old Annie, but that's not something I can tell you. I remember my mum being gobsmacked to hear she was dead so I guess the one thing I can say is that she and me didn't do it. In the end, I'd go with it being a truck, like the police said, and I'm sorry if that's disappointing.

Your friend,

Michael Percy