GB84

by David Peace

  The Thirty-ninth Week

  Monday 26 November – Sunday 2 December 1984

  The Mechanic drives to his mother’s house at Wetherby. He has come to say goodbye. Not see you later. He gets out –

  Drum roll –

  Here come the dogs. Down the drive. Tongues out and tails up. Fuck, he missed them. Missed his dogs. Dog might not stab you in the back. But dog could still break your heart. He knows that now. The dog loves you, and you love the dog –

  Breaks your bloody heart –

  The Mechanic knows that now. Now it’s too late.

  He looks up from the dogs. He sees his mother in the doorway. He stands up –

  She shuts the door. She turns the key. She draws the curtains –

  It is midday. Noon. November 1984.

  The Mechanic puts the dogs in the back of the Fiesta. He drives up to the Dolby Forest with them. They get out. They walk through the forest to the place –

  The Mechanic kisses the dogs. The Mechanic shoots the dogs.

  He digs two pits near an old badger sett and buries them next to Dixon –

  Their scents confused. Their bones mixed.

  Stay. Fucking. Free –

  Free of everything and everyone. Their scent and their bones.

  Terry Winters had his head against the window. Terry stared down at the streets below. He didn’t know if it was dusk or dawn any more. He’d not been to bed in over two days. He ate only aspirins. He drank only coffee. High Court orders had been served on Paul and Dick as they left Congress House in London last night. The bailiff had thrown the orders into their car. Dick had thrown them back out. Left the papers to scatter into the night. But the orders had been served. The orders effected. Paul and Dick phoned Terry from London. Click-click. Paul and Dick told Terry exactly what they thought of him. Told him again and again. The orders meant their funds had been found in Switzerland and Luxembourg. The orders meant their funds would be frozen –

  Five million in Luxembourg. Five hundred thousand in Switzerland –

  Everything undone.

  Terry had to get to the money. Terry had to get to it as fast as he could. Terry knew he could engineer the release of the money in the Luxembourg courts; that the orders were not valid outside the UK. Terry knew then he could move it –

  If he could get there and get there in time.

  Terry picked up the phone. Click-click. Terry phoned round airlines and airports. Click-click. Terry phoned the local owners of private aircraft and airstrips. Click-click. Terry chartered a plane. The plane would cost twelve thousand pounds. Terry said yes, he’d pay cash.

  Terry phoned Mike Sullivan. Click-click. Terry told him to pack his bags –

  To meet him at Leeds-Bradford airport.

  Terry drove home fast. Terry had to pack quick. Terry had to pack cash –

  The President was on the radio. The President talked of their debts to the dead.

  Terry went up his drive. Terry went into his house. Terry went into his pantry. The tins were still there. The tins full of money. Terry emptied all the tins into one big black bin-liner. Terry thought that was enough. Terry left the suitcases alone in the loft. Terry looked at the clock on the wall. Terry piled the empty tins back up in the pantry. Terry walked out of the front door of his house with the big black bin-liner in his hand –

  Terry stopped dead in the drive. Terry dropped the bin-liner onto the ground.

  The President was standing at the end of the drive with Len.

  Terry Winters said, ‘I can explain.’

  The President shook his head. The President nodded to Len –

  Len walked up the drive. Len picked up the bin-liner. Len opened the bin-liner.

  Terry said again, ‘I can explain.’

  The President shook his head again. Len took hold of Terry by his arm –

  They took Terry with them. They took Terry in –

  They tied Terry to a table. Told Terry to take his time. Take this time to think.

  Terry sat in his vest and underpants on the tenth floor of the Union Headquarters. The President would talk to Terry only in his vest and pants. He didn’t trust Terry –

  Not after what Len had told him. The things Len had told him.

  Len leant against the door. Len with his arms folded. Len with his eyes on Terry.

  The President had counted out the packets of twenty-pound notes into three piles. Each pile contained one hundred packets. Each packet contained two hundred pounds –

  There was sixty thousand pounds in used twenty-pound notes on the table.

  The President looked down at the cash. The President looked back up at Terry –

  ‘It’s from the CGT in Paris,’ said Terry again. ‘I swear.’

  ‘I don’t care where it’s from,’ said the President. ‘But I care where it was going.’

  ‘I was bringing it here,’ said Terry. ‘To pay for the plane and the mortgages.’

  ‘I’d like to believe you,’ said the President. ‘I want to believe you, Comrade.’

  ‘Mike Sullivan is waiting for me at the airport,’ said Terry. ‘Just ask him.’

  The President looked at Terry Winters. Terry Winters in his vest and underpants.

  ‘I swear,’ said Terry again. ‘What else would I be doing with it?’

  There was a knock at the door. Silence. There was another knock at the door –

  Len looked at the President. The President nodded. Len opened the door –

  ‘It’s urgent,’ said Joan. ‘The High Court have appointed a receiver.’

  The Earth tilts, the Earth turns. The Earth hungry, the Earth hunts –

  The Mechanic drives. He steals another Ford and drives South. He ditches that car and steals another. And drives. He burns this one and steals another, then another –

  Her eyes wide. Her mouth open. Her nose bloody –

  And drives and drives. He pushes one into the River Avon and sells another one for scrap. He steals the next one from a supermarket car park –

  The Earth hunts you, you run. You run, you hide. Hide in the last place –

  Bypasses Worcester and Shrewsbury. Takes the A49 to Hereford then Leominster. Ludlow to Wistanstow. Joins the A489 to Church Stoke. The A490 straight to Welshpool. Follows the A483 North to Llanymynech and –

  The very last place.

  Neil Fontaine drives the Jew and the Chairman North to Castleford. Hooded pickets armed with baseball bats attacked and badly beat a working miner in his own home at dawn yesterday morning. The man had returned to work at Fryston Colliery only four days before. He had done so because he had two young children. He had done so because he had a pregnant wife. He had done so because he had debts. He had done so because he had no way to repay his debts. He left his house at half-past four yesterday morning for a pre-arranged rendezvous with a Coal Board van. Twenty pickets were waiting for him outside his home. The pickets warned him not to go to work. The pickets made threats against his pregnant wife and two young children. The man walked back towards his house to telephone the police. The pickets called him a scab. The pickets chased him into his garden. The man ran inside his house. The pickets kicked open his door. The pickets wore combat jackets and balaclavas. The pickets carried baseball bats and pick-axe handles. The man told his pregnant wife and two young children to hide upstairs. The pickets caught the man in his own front room. The pickets set about him with their bats and steel-toe-capped boots. His wife and children listened from inside a bedroom wardrobe to their husband and their father screaming down below. The pickets broke his ankle. The pickets broke his shoulder. The pickets dislocated his elbow. The pickets dislocated his other shoulder. The pickets broke two ribs and bruised the rest. The pickets blackened his eyes. The pickets broke his nose. The Jew had been appalled when Neil had told him this tale. The Jew told Neil they must visit this Richard Clarke in his hospital bed. This lion of a man. The Chairman had been equally appalled when the Jew had told him. The Chairman told the Jew the
y must visit this hero in his hospital bed –

  This lion of a man in his hospital bed –

  ‘I’ll not let them stop me,’ Richard Clarke tries to tell the Chairman and the Jew. ‘This has just made me more determined.’

  The Chairman gives him autographed books about mining, and comforts his wife.

  ‘When he comes out of hospital he’ll go back to work,’ says pretty, pregnant Mrs Clarke. ‘We are not going to be beaten by these thugs.’

  Neil Fontaine shows in Stanley Smith. Stanley also recently returned to work. Last week someone set fire to his £40,000 home in Pontefract.

  The Jew steps outside. The Jew shows in the press.

  The press take out their pens. The press take their photos –

  ‘Everyone should get back to work to change Union rules,’ says Richard Clarke. ‘NUM President should have to be re-elected every three years.’

  The Jew smiles. The Jew nods. The press write. The press nod.

  ‘They emphasized that they would kill my two-year-old daughter,’ says Stanley. ‘And the main target in this blaze was her bedroom. That about sums it all up for me. They openly told me they would kill my daughter, and they have tried to do just that.’

  The Jew dabs his eyes. The Jew nods. The press write. The press nod.

  The Jew picks up a Get Well Soon card from Richard Clarke’s bedside table. The Jew shows it to the press. The Jew reads it aloud:

  ‘“All the best to a very brave man who deserves a medal and all the miners’ thanks. The rest of us are too scared, but you have shown the way –

  ‘“From another miner on strike, but not half as brave as you.”’

  The Chairman lets go of pretty, pregnant Mrs Clarke. The Chairman has things to say –

  ‘This was a horrific and brutal attack on an innocent working man in his own home, while his beautiful wife and two children cowered upstairs, petrified and terrified. This is the visible proof of what we have been saying for months now that, but for these IRA tactics of violence and intimidation in the pit villages, many thousands more men would have gone back to work by now and this strike have soon been over.’

  The Chairman puts away his piece of paper. The Chairman looks at the Jew –

  The Jew looks at Richard Clarke. Richard Clarke nods. Richard Clarke says, ‘This visit was a wonderful surprise and the Chairman has given me lots of reassurance, which I needed. He told me that if I needed to move away from the area, I could do so. But I don’t think I will need to do that. He wished me a speedy recovery and asked after my wife and children. He gave me two signed books on mining, which not many folk can have. I will keep them for ever to pass on to my children, for their children, and their children’s children.’

  The Jew claps. The Jew nods. The press write. The press nod –

  The Jew reminds the press of the Prime Minister’s ruthless few. The Jew says –

  ‘They blind police horses. They spike potatoes with nails. Uproot lamp-posts and loot local shops. They use petrol bombs and ballbearings. Bottles and bricks. Air-guns and catapults. They run wires across roads to maim and decapitate police and former friends. But I would like to reassure all working miners, and the many striking miners who wish to return to their jobs, that the Board has begun a comprehensive review of security for all working miners and their families. We are well aware of the Union’s tactic of visiting and intimidating the sick and elderly parents of working miners. We condemn out of hand these attacks against the sick, the old and the lonely. These are the very members of society that the Union is supposedly pledged to defend. Measures are being taken as I speak to ensure that no working miner, or member of his family, is ever again subject to the horrific assault suffered by Mr Clarke in his own home. Thank you.’

  Richard Clarke nods. The Chairman nods. The press nod. Everyone nods.

  The nurses come to clear the room of the guests and the press.

  The Jew steps outside to talk to the police about the progress they’re making.

  Neil Fontaine makes calls on hospital phones. Neil Fontaine makes calls to arms –

  Neil has drawn up a list of potential recruits for the Jew’s private plan –

  The Jew’s private army for Pit Land Security.

  Neil spies Grey Fox in the corridor. Grey Fox has things to say to the Jew –

  How his wife has left him. Taken his kids. How he’s too sick with worry to work.

  Neil Fontaine shakes his head. Neil Fontaine says he’s sorry. Really very sorry.

  The former Grey Fox sits in the hospital corridor with his head in his hands.

  Neil Fontaine goes out to find the Jew. The Jew is standing alone in the car park –

  The light is fading. Night forming. The light failing. Night falling –

  The Jew asks aloud, ‘How long will it be before these thugs murder someone?’

  The Mechanic parks well away. He waits until it’s dark. Night. He goes to the boot. The trunk. He takes out the rucksack. The spade. He walks through the fields. The streams. He comes to the trees. The branches. He hides in the hedgerow. The bushes. He covers his face in mud. Dirt. He digs a hole. A pit. He gathers branches. Leaves. He gets into the hole. The ground. He pulls the branches over the top of him. In his hide –

  The Mechanic watches. The Mechanic waits –

  For the headlights to come and the Rover to stop. The car door to open and close. For the feet to carry the shopping up the path. The cottage door to open and not close.

  The Mechanic pushes away the branches. The leaves. He gets out of the hole. The pit. He walks down to the cottage –

  Up the path. To the open door of the very last place you’d think to look.

  The Mechanic steps inside. He says, ‘Penny for your thoughts, Jen.’

  Jennifer drops her shopping. Jennifer whispers Neil’s name –

  She calls out Neil’s name. Shouts out Neil’s name. Screams out Neil’s name for –

  The very last time.

  Peter

  Total darkness again – Had its own rhythms, did strike. Life of its own. Peaks and troughs. There’d be storms and there’d be quiet. Quiet and then storms again. Now it was quiet again. Quietest it had ever been. Tense, though. Now some had gone back from village. Rumour. Lot of rumour. Folk would stop us in street to tell us Alan from their road hadn’t picked up his parcel in over two week. That them in 16 had just come back from Canaries and how could they do that if he were still out, like? It was building. I could feel it – Christmas coming. General Winter on horizon. Power cuts not far behind him. Due a harsh winter and all – One last storm. Then home straight – That’s what I told myself. That’s what I said, Home straight – Touch my nose with my finger. Not see my finger – Mary had taken extra shifts up at factory, so I’d make breakfast and wash up before I went down Welfare. First her and our Jackie thought it was a bit of a laugh, me in kitchen. It wasn’t that funny now. Not that I couldn’t fry a couple of eggs. Bit of bacon. But it was just another of them signs. Signs that things weren’t right. Least with them both working I had something to cook – Lot that didn’t. Bloody lot – I put breakfast onto plates and took it through. Mary had scissors and glue out, cutting up bloody paper fore anyone had had a chance to read thing. For her scrapbook. True History of Great Strike for Jobs, that was what she called it. Filled three books now. Most of it were lies, said so herself. Bloody lies, she’d say as she cut stuff out. Tory bloody lies. But what she’d do was, under all lies she cut out, she’d then write truth of matter. Even had two of books signed by King Arthur himself – Just another way to pass time, I suppose. Between news – That was all we seemed to do these days, wait for bloody news to come on. Then it was all about money – Fines, sequestration. Receiver – Like that was only thing that mattered. It was only thing that fucking mattered to them on other side. Money – There were blokes down Welfare who read three papers a day. Then there were them that sat at home, glued to teletext. Not much else to do. Not now – Flying had dropp
ed off since Dinnington last month. Branches just didn’t have brass to keep sending lads out – Only got about five hundred turning out for a mass picket now. Police had that contained, no bother. Didn’t even let lads shout. Heard tales of some blokes being done for glaring at scabs, police making lads stand with their eyes on floor – Nick you for sneezing, some of them. Just to get two days’ paid leave and expenses when you went to court – If they couldn’t charge you, they’d take you for a drive. Throw you out back of their van – Parachuting tests, they called it. Bastards got away with bloody murder – Had our own pit to picket anyway. Everyone did – That and coal picking. That was what most lads did – Picked coal. Picketed pit. Read papers and watched news – That was all there was now. That and worry. That was it – I was down Welfare most of time now. I was writing a lot of letters and making visits – I felt bad about some of them that had gone in. Felt we could have prevented it, like. Not all of them. Because some of them were just like that – Whatever you’d have done, it wouldn’t have been enough. Folk were just born like that. Or their wives – But couple of them had been on their own. There’d been a death in family or wife had left them. Board had taken advantage of their weakness and got them back in. Now we’d set up a sort of monitoring system. Regulars at Welfare would let us know if anything had happened to anyone. Ears to ground. If anyone were having any problems, either with money or family worries. Then I’d go up and see them. Try to help them out if we could. Tell them about loans we could arrange for them through Union. That sort of thing. I’d send a letter first, then follow it up with a visit. Take a parcel out to them. Especially if they weren’t in village and were somewhere further away. I kept writing to them that had already gone back and all. I didn’t advertise it because there were them that wouldn’t have had them back anyway – Once a scab, always a scab – That lot. That was what scabs thought themselves, though – They’d crossed line. No turning back – I’d talk to some of them on telephone.