David Peace - 1983

‘Fortunately, no.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ says Pig.

‘Goodnight, officer,’ he says and winds his window back up.

Then car turns left and heads into Dewsbury.

BJ sit up in backseat -

His eyes on BJ in mirror.

BJ say: ‘Where we going?’

‘Church.’

It is 1977.

He found me hiding -

In Church of Abandoned Christ on seventh floor of Griffin Hotel in ghost bloodied old city of Leodis, BJ lost; all covered in sleep and drunk upon a double bed, BJ lost in room 77; hair already shaved and 8 eyes shined, BJ be Northern Son. Black Angel beside BJ upon bed; his clothes are shabby and his wings are burnt; Father of Fear is weeping, whispering from among wine his death songs:

Knew I was not happy -

‘And after this Joseph of Arimathжa, being a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of thee Jews, besought Pilate that he might take away thee body of Jesus; and Pilate marveled if he were already dead and calling unto him thee centurion, he asked him whether he had been any while dead. And when he knew it of thee centurion, Pilate gave Joseph leave. He came therefore and took thee body of Jesus.’

Scratching my head -

‘And there came also Nicodemus, which at thee first came to Jesus by night and brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pound in weight. Then they took thee body of Jesus and wound it in linen clothes with thee spices, as thee manner of thee Jews is to bury their dead.’

Confused beyond existence -

‘Now in thee place where he was crucified there was a garden; and in thee garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid, but when they laid him out upon thee rock, they saw his wounds were bloody and bleeding beneath thee white linen, they saw he was not dead -’

Sat in the corner, shivering from fright -

‘Only bleeding -’

Feeling strung up -

‘And as they were afraid and bowed their faces to thee earth, he said to them: Why seek ye thee living among thee Dead?’

Out of my clothes and into the bed -

‘E am here; E suffered and am now risen from thee Dead and ye are witnesses of these things. But know ye who did this thing, for only one person could do this, thee one who did not forsake me, for whom death is not thee end.’

The movements in his bed -

‘And they traveled out of thee Holy Lands and through Asia Minor and across thee mountains of Europe until they arrived at thee port in France and there thee White Ship was waiting to take them to thee Land of Angels and there was a mood of celebration amongst thee party for they were in sight of their goal and eager to reach this Pagan Place they set out to sea only after night had already fallen.’

So sorry sad and so, so confused -

‘But he was a jealous God and he was angry and thee White Ship hit a rock in thee gloom of thee night and thee port-side cracked wide-open to reveal a gaping hole whereupon Joseph quickly rushed thee Wounded Christ on deck and bundled Him into a smaller dinghy. They were away to safety as thee remaining crew struggled to wrest thee vessel off thee rocks. However, Christ could hear His wife calling to Him, begging Him not to leave her to thee sea and He ordered Joseph to turn around, but thee situation was hopeless.’

Between life and death -

‘As Christ drew nearer once more, thee White Ship began to descend beneath thee waves. Everyone was in thee water and they fought desperately for thee safety of thee dinghy. Thee turmoil and thee weight were too much. Christ’s boat was capsized and sunk without trace.’

Lost in room -

‘And it is said that thee only person to survive thee wreck to tell thee tale was Mary Magdalene, thee wife of Christ, but that she never spoke or smiled again but waited alone and lost in room for thee White Ship to rise again from beneath thee waves and bear thee linen body of thee Wounded, Abandoned Christ to these pagan shores, thee shores of this, thee Land of Angels.’

They found me hiding -

In Church of Abandoned Christ on seventh floor of Griffin Hotel in ghost bloodied old city of Leodis, BJ lost; drunk and all covered in sleep upon a double bed, BJ lost in room 77; hair already shaved and 8 eyes shined, BJ be Northern Son. Black Angel is beside BJ upon bed; his shabby clothes and burnt wings; Father of Fear, he weeps and whispers from among wine:

‘You must choose a side to be on.’

In the shadow -

BJ take off every ring -

In the shadow of the Horns -

Head bobbed.

The telephone is ringing and ringing and ringing and I’m wondering where the fuck the wife is and why she won’t bloody answer the telephone ringing and ringing and ringing wondering where the fuck the wife is and why she won’t bloody answer the telephone ringing and ringing and ringing the fuck is the wife and why won’t she answer the fucking telephone is ringing and ringing and ringing -

‘I need to see you.’

‘I told you not to ring me here.’

‘So where am I supposed to call you? At work?’

‘I made a mistake, I -’

‘Please, I need to -’

I hang up. I go to the bathroom. I wash my hands -

Wash them and wash them and wash them -

Thanking Christ the wife is out, the kids at school.

Thursday 23 March 1972 -

Brotherton House, Westgate, Leeds:

Downstairs in my office, the door locked -

Cigs out and a pile of newspapers:

Front pages full of the Belfast Station bomb and the Heath-Faulkner talks -

Inside pages the biggest ever Littlewoods Pools win, Jimmy fucking Savile with his bloody OBE -

Then there she is -

Susan Search Widens – by Jack Whitehead, Crime Reporter of the Year .

That same photograph for the past two days:

A long fringe and big teeth .

72 hours coming up -

Missing .

I light another cigarette. I pick up the phone: ‘News desk, please.’

I wait. I say: ‘Jack Whitehead, please.’

I wait. I hear: ‘Jack Whitehead speaking?’

‘Jack?’ I say. ‘Maurice Jobson.’

‘Maurice? And to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? Got something good for your Uncle Jack, have you?’

‘I was hoping you might have something for me.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

I look at my watch. I ask him: ‘What you doing for lunch?’

‘What I usually do for lunch.’

‘Press Club?’

‘I’m banned.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since I can’t fucking remember. That’s the problem.’

‘Where they taking your money these days then?’

‘Taking my money? I’m not fucking paying to drink with you.’

‘There’s no such thing as a free pint, Jack. You should know that.’

I hear him light a cigarette. Exhale. He says: ‘Duck and Drake?’

‘Duck and fucking Drake? Jesus, Jack.’

‘You ought to drink in there more often, Maurice,’ he says. ‘Wouldn’t need to keep crawling back to me then, would you.’

‘Twelve?’

‘Don’t be late.’

On my way out, I stop and ask Wilson on the front desk if he’s seen Bill today -

‘Off, isn’t he?’ says Wilson.

‘Yeah? Must be a first.’

‘The wedding on Saturday, isn’t it?’

‘Fuck, yeah.’

‘Don’t tell me you’d forgotten, not way he’s been going on.’

‘You’re off then?’

Wilson smiles: ‘Must have invited whole bloody force and then some.’

‘That’s the Badger ,’ I agree, walking off.

‘Going to miss him when he’s gone.’

I stop. I turn back: ‘You what?’

Sergeant Wilson and his boils are a deep and crimson red: ‘Just a rumour.’