The blast of static it emitted a moment later startled him. ‘Blasted thing,’ he said. ‘Gets me every time.’

‘Yes, Father,’ came the bored-sounding voice, which Jax recognised as belonging to the guard named Rogers, or ‘Dodge’, as Marsh had called him. ‘What is it this time? Over.’

The priest leaned back in, far closer than necessary, and pressed again. ‘Yes, hello. You need to get down to this cell with this man’s things. Right away. He’s entitled to his bedding, no matter how he has sinned.’

‘You forgot to say over,’ came the droll reply. ‘Yeah, cell number 7 – I’ve got the tubs here. Must have been a mix-up last night. I’ll see what I can do. Don’t hold yer breath.’

The priest jammed his finger back onto the button. Jax was surprised to see so much anger in his face. ‘No, that won’t do,’ he said in a booming voice. ‘Shall I remind you of our arrangement? I said “right away”. RIGHT AWAY. Got that? And you forgot to say over. Over.’

Jax was curious. He hadn’t planned on acquainting himself with the prison chaplain, even though the admitting officer had mentioned him in his rundown. Jax didn’t pray and hadn’t for years. Not since the car accident that killed his parents. That kind of thing made you realise there was no God. But, judging from the way the priest had just issued orders to the guard, it seemed he might be worth knowing.

‘Uh, thanks,’ Jax said. ‘I’m grateful.’

‘No problem,’ he said with a nod, the mad glint in his eye gone. ‘If nothing else, a man must have his dignity preserved in here, his human rights must be observed – as much as can be, that is. You’ll get your things now, you’ll see.’ He was pleased with himself.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Jax said again.

‘And I am not going anywhere until they arrive,’ the priest added.

He introduced himself as Father Martin – ‘though you can call me Marty’ – and took the opportunity to spruik the program he ran in the prison. After asking Jax if he’d been baptised, which he had, he invited him to attend the next ‘chapel club’ meeting.

‘No one is going to bash you with a Bible,’ the priest said when Jax replied with a shrug. ‘It’s not a mass. Hardly any religion at all. We just get together and hang out. A bunch of boys attend. Good boys. I think it would be a fine opportunity for you to make some friends. They can look out for you. I can look out for you.’

Jax smiled this time but still failed to commit.

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of two guards delivering the tubs. They didn’t look impressed, but they humoured the priest as he told them where to place them.