David Peace - 1980

‘It’s true.’

‘Someone nicks your motor and – hang on, first someone fixes your motor and then they nick it and drive round red-light areas and then put it right back on same spot where you left it night before?’

‘Yes.’

Alderman: ‘Fuck off, Pete.’

Silence -

Silence until -

Until Prentice says softly: ‘You put the false plates on because you knew you were going to Sheffield, knew you were going to red-light district, and you knew we’d be watching.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘I think it is. I think you know it is.’

‘To be honest with you, I’ve been so depressed that I put plates on because I was thinking of committing a crime with the car.’

Silence -

Silence until -

Until Prentice says: ‘When you were arrested Pete, why did you leave your car and go down the side of that house?’

‘To urinate.’

Alderman: ‘To what?’

‘To piss.’

Prentice: ‘I think you went for another purpose. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

Williams nods.

Alderman picks up a brown sports bag from under the table and he opens it and takes out four plastic bags and he places them on the table:

Two hammers, a screwdriver, and a knife.

Prentice: ‘I think you’re in serious trouble.’

Peter Williams: ‘I think you’ve been leading up to it.’

‘Leading up to what?’

Silence -

Silence until -

Until Peter D. Williams says: ‘The Yorkshire Ripper.’

Silence -

More silence until -

Until Prentice leans forward and says: ‘What about the Yorkshire Ripper?’

Silence -

One last silence until -

Until Peter David Williams says: ‘Well, it’s me.’

And Prentice stands up and then sits down again, Alderman in his chair with a glance back at the glass -

Back at the glass -

The other side of the glass -

Nine hearts pounding -

Pounding, pumping -

Pumping, the adrenaline pumping -

Pumping and turning and smiling and nodding and then there -

There behind me -

Oldman -

George Oldman -

Assistant Chief Constable George Oldman -

And he’s smiling and nodding, leaving us -

Going next door -

Noble: ‘George, no!’

Leaving us with our hands to the glass, the two-way mirror -

Hands to the glass, the two-way mirror -

‘George!’

The glass, the mirror -

On the other side of the glass, the other side of the mirror -

Where Prentice is asking: ‘You feel better now Peter, do you?’

And the Yorkshire Ripper -

The Yorkshire Ripper looks up as the door opens -

The door opens and in steps George -

And he walks up to him -

To the Yorkshire Ripper and he says -

Says to the Yorkshire Ripper: ‘I’m the one you almost bloody killed as well.’

And the Yorkshire Ripper -

The Yorkshire Ripper, he looks at George and he says: ‘They are all in my brain, reminding me of the beast I am.’

Prentice saying: ‘You’ll feel better now.’

‘Just thinking about them all reminds me of what a monster I am.’

And Alderman stands up and takes George by the arm, leading him away, Jim Prentice asking the Yorkshire Ripper -

Asking him: ‘You want anything, Peter?’

‘I want to tell Monica,’ says the Yorkshire Ripper -

Says the Yorkshire Ripper with a glance into the glass -

A glance into the glass -

The glass -

The glass, the mirror -

The other side of the glass, the other side of the mirror -

On the other side of the mirror where Angus -

Chief Constable Angus is saying -

Shouting -

‘Get the whiskey out!’

Noble giving the orders: ‘Put him in a cell – someone inside and someone outside the door, round the clock.’

Maurice Jobson in his ear, whispering -

Noble nodding along: ‘Yeah, and get out a couple of shotguns.’

Maurice, whispering -

Noble, another nod, calling the shots: ‘We’re taking no chances tonight, so I want the paperwork and the guns out.’

Angus shouting -

‘And the bloody whiskey!’

Up the stairs -

Beaming coppers at every turn -

At every turn only too glad to point the way -

To point the way, to shake your hand, to pat your back and crack another can -

Shaking hands, patting backs, cracking cans -

Cans, backs, and hands until -

Until we’re all in an upstairs office:

Ronald Angus, George Oldman, Maurice Jobson, Peter Noble, Dick Alderman, Jim Prentice, Alec McDonald, John Murphy -

No Craven, no Bob -

And twenty faces I don’t know -

Twenty faces I don’t want to know -

Plus the two faces I do -

The two familiar faces I want to know -

Murphy introducing me: ‘This is Sergeant John Chain, he’s the one who nicked him.’

‘Me and John Skinner,’ nods Chain.

‘And this is DS Ellis, here at Dewsbury.’

‘Call me Mike,’ says Mike, hand out.

I take Murphy to one side: ‘What the fuck’s going on? What happened?’

‘Pulled him in Sheffield, didn’t they?’

‘Sheffield?’

‘Yeah,’ nods Murphy, a big whiskey in his fist.

‘Who?’

‘That Sergeant Chain and some PC Skinner.’

‘Which station?’

‘Hammerton Road, I think.’

‘When?’

‘Sunday night.’

‘How?’

But then there’s boots up the stairs, telephones ringing -

Head around the door: ‘She’s here, sir!’

And everyone’s heading out the door -

Back down the stairs -

Me saying: ‘Who? The wife?’

This Sergeant Ellis, Mike, he’s shaking his head: ‘Slag he was with.’

‘Luckiest bitch alive,’ laughs someone else and then -

Then we’re all heading back downstairs -

Beaming coppers at every turn -

At every turn only too glad to point the way -

To point the way, to shake your hand, to pat your back and crack another can -

Shaking hands, patting backs, cracking cans -

Cans, backs, and hands until -

Until we’re downstairs -

Underground -

Back underground -

In the dark room with the one wall half glass -

Behind the glass, the two-way mirror -

Light from behind the glass -

The stage set -

Act II:

Three chairs and a table -

The players -

Alderman and Prentice and -

Today’s special guest:

Sharon Yardley, a 24-year-old convicted black prostitute and mother of two from some Sheffield shit-hole.

‘What’s going on?’ she’s asking.

Prentice, ever the gent: ‘Have a seat Miss Yardley.’

‘It’s a fucking jungle out there,’ she’s saying -

Alderman smiling, best behaviour: ‘Cigarette?’

‘Don’t mind if I do.’

He leans forward, his back to us, lighter out: ‘There you go.’

‘Ta very much.’

Alderman: ‘We’ve taken a bit of shine – no offence – taken a bit of a shine to one of your punters.’

‘Yeah? Why’s that?’

‘Bit of a naughty boy this one.’

‘Aren’t they all.’

‘Yeah,’ nods Prentice. ‘Aren’t they all.’

Alderman: ‘Tell us about him, this one from Sunday night?’

‘What about him?’

‘Just tell us what happened?’

She rolls her eyes, stubs out her cig and says: ‘About nine I’m sitting with Karen on Wharncliffe Road, junction with Broomhall…’

Alderman: ‘Karen?’

‘Yeah, Karen.’

‘Last name?’

‘Not a clue, officer,’ she smiles. ‘Never met her before.’

Prentice: ‘Go on.’

‘About nine, a brown Rover pulls up, window down, are we doing business? Karen goes across, gives him once over, says no ta.’

‘Why she say no?’

‘Bit creepy.’