David Peace - 1980

Five hours later and half the Manchester Police force are round my house but I’m still sat in Noble’s bloody office waiting for Chief Constable Ronald Angus to show his face, standing up and sitting down, on and off the phone to Joan, standing up and sitting down, Noble and Prentice and the rest of them in and out.

‘Sit down, Peter,’ says Angus as he comes in, patting me on the back.

Noble gets up from behind his desk to make way for Big Chief Ron.

‘Let’s have a look,’ he says, sitting down.

Noble hands him the sheet of paper encased in the plastic bag, the envelope in another -

Angus holds up the envelope: ‘Mr Peter Hunter,’ he reads. ‘The Griffin, eh?’

I nod.

‘Saturday?’ he says, squinting at the postmark -

‘Manchester,’ I say.

He puts down the envelope on the desk and picks up the letter:

Dear Officer ,

Sorry I haven’t written before, but heed this early warning: will kill wife and kids.

Jack the Ripper .

Ronald Angus puts down the letter and looks up at me and then across the room at Peter Noble -

‘Handwriting’s same,’ says Noble.

Angus nods: ‘Or at least a very good likeness.’

‘We were waiting for you, but we’ve got the lab at Wetherby standing by’

Angus ignores him and asks me: ‘Have you been in touch with Mrs Hunter?’

‘Yes.’

‘You told her?’

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t have any kids, do you?’

‘No,’ I say.

‘That’s lucky’

I look at my watch:

It’s three in the morning -

Christmas Eve, 1980.

I look up and say: ‘I want to go home, sir.’

Chief Constable Ronald Angus looks at Temporary Assistant Chief Constable Peter Noble and shrugs: ‘Fair enough.’

I stand up and turn to Noble: ‘Thanks, Pete.’

He nods and says: ‘We’ll be in touch.’

I turn to go as the phone starts ringing -

‘Drive carefully,’ says Angus as Noble picks up the phone.

I nod and open the door.

‘Mr Hunter,’ says Noble, one hand over the mouthpiece, gesturing for me to wait.

Me: ‘What is it?’

Angus, looking at Noble: ‘What?’

Noble nodding, into the phone: ‘Fucking hell.’

Me, at his side: ‘What?’

‘Right,’ says Noble and slams down the phone -

‘What?’ say Angus and me at the same time.

‘Eric Hall’s wife.’

Me: ‘What?’

‘She’s dead.’

Me: ‘What?’

‘Son found her hanging in the kitchen thirty minutes ago.’

The drive back out to Denholme:

Prentice, Noble, and me -

The snow blowing about but not settling, the car silent but for Christmas carols on the radio.

Prentice, Noble, and me -

There are tears in my eyes.

We park behind a blue and white at the bottom of the drive, a Ford outside the garage.

Noble leads the way up to the door, Prentice hanging back, and knocks -

A uniform opens the door, introduces himself, mutters a few words and we go through into the front room where a young man is sat on the gold sofa staring into what looks like a glass of whiskey.

Noble says: ‘Mr Hall? My name is Peter Noble, I’m the Assistant Chief Constable.’

The young man nods.

‘This is Peter Hunter, a policeman from Manchester who knew your mother.’

He nods again, glancing up at us.

The house is silent, just policemen walking about, here and there, as quietly as they can.

‘It’s Richard, isn’t it?’ asks Noble.

The young man says: ‘Yes.’

‘Well Richard, in a bit, someone will take you down to the hospital.’

‘The hospital?’ he asks.

‘I’m afraid someone has to formally identify the body’

‘I see.’

‘Yes,’ says Noble. ‘And I’m afraid we’re also going to have to go over a few things with you.’

‘Now?’

‘If you can. It’s best to get everything out of the way, saves having to keep going over things.’

He nods again and takes a sip from the glass.

Noble glances at me and we both sit down, me taking out my notebook.

Noble: ‘Do you want to tell us what happened then?’

‘I came back about twoish. I’d been out and I came in and the house was dark and I thought she must have gone to bed and I put on the light in here and there was a piece of paper on the floor and I picked it up and saw it was a letter so I just put it down here,’ he says, tapping the coffee table.

‘And then, as I was putting it down, I saw her out of the corner of my eye, through there in the kitchen. She was kneeling and I thought, “Now what you up to?” I went over to her, about to say something. Her head was bowed, her hands on top of the washing machine. I just stared at her, she was so still. Then I saw the rope, I hadn’t noticed it. The rope from the clothes rack was around her neck. I ran through into the hall and picked up the phone but then I went back into kitchen because I wasn’t sure, you know. But then I saw her face, all the saliva dangling from her mouth and so I went back and called 999.’

He stops and there’s just the sound of a clock ticking -

Then Noble asks: ‘What did you do then?’

‘I tried to cut her down but I couldn’t find a knife sharp enough.’

Noble nods.

‘Then police and the ambulance came,’ says Richard Hall, looking at his watch. ‘Think it was the police first.’

‘Was she expecting you?’ I ask. ‘Expecting you tonight?’

‘No.’

‘Is this the letter?’ asks Noble, picking up an envelope -

He nods.

Noble opens the envelope and reads the letter and then hands it to me:

Dear Richard ,

I’m so very sorry to do this to you after everything you’ve had to deal with, but I just can’t keep going on like this. I hope now you’ll be able to make a clean break and get on with your life. I love you and I’m sorry.

Please forgive me.

Mum .

I fold up the piece of paper and put it back inside the envelope and pass it over to Noble. He hands it to a uniform who bags it and takes it away -

Richard Hall looks round, confused.

‘You’ll get it back Richard. Don’t worry,’ says Noble.

He takes a big swig from the glass, swallows and says: ‘This bloody house.’

I nod, thinking the same, thinking about Joan.

‘Have you got anywhere you can go?’ asks Noble. ‘Anyone we should call?’

‘I’ll be right,’ says Richard Hall.

‘Let’s take you down the hospital, get everything out of the way.’

We all stand up and turn to the door -

Helen Marshall is stood in the doorway.

She moves to one side as Noble and a uniform take Richard Hall outside, Noble turning and asking me: ‘You going to be OK to get back?’

I nod.

‘See you later then,’ he says, looking at Marshall.

I nod again and walk back into the front room, Marshall following.

I sit back down on the sofa -

She sits down next to me.

The clock’s ticking.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says.

‘Where’ve you been?’

‘I had to go home.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘I see.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I was worried.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she says again, swallowing.

‘How did you hear about this?’

‘Martin Laws.’

‘Laws? Reverend Laws?’

She nods.

‘He called you at home? At the hotel?’

‘At home.’

‘What’s he got your home number for?’

‘Leave it, Peter. Please?’

‘And how did he know?’

‘Said the son had called him.’

‘Fucking hell,’ I say, standing up and going into the kitchen.