David Peace - GB84

An agreement that had no amnesty or an agreement that did …

The receiver had ended the sequestration. The receiver had sole control –

An amnesty that included all sacked miners or that only included some …

Terry had to move fast. Terry had to move by night. Terry had lots to move –

The suitcases and the biscuit tins. The cardboard boxes and the padded envelopes. The cash and the columns. The additions and the subtractions. The sums and the cost –

His fractions and his fictions —

The price –

Every. Fucking. Thing.

‘Be careful,’ said the voice from the doorway to his office. ‘Makes you go blind.’

Terry looked up from his desk. Fuck . Terry said, ‘What does?’

Bill Reed switched on the lights. He said, ‘Playing with yourself in the dark.’

‘What do you want now?’ asked Terry.

‘Just wanted to know how your wife was doing.’

‘Thank you,’ said Terry. ‘Recovering very well.’

Bill smiled. ‘Reassuring to know such things are still possible.’

‘Isn’t it just,’ said Terry. ‘Now was there anything else, Comrade?’

Bill Reed stopped smiling. Bill Reed stared at Terry Winters –

Terry Winters smiled back. Terry Winters didn’t care –

Nothing. Fucking. Mattered. Now –

The clock was ticking down. Tick-tock . The final countdown had commenced –

These were the last few days.

*

The Jew is back from the beach. Fresh from the festivities –

‘They’re holding fucking what?’ he is screaming at Neil. ‘When? Where? Who?’

The Jew has Neil take him straight to Hobart House –

‘Monday! Downing Street!’ he shouts into the car phone. ‘The Prime Minister!’

The Jew thunders up the stairs. The Jew storms into the Chairman’s office –

The Chairman is at his desk. Pen in hand. The Chairman is at his tether’s end –

‘They are politicians,’ he sobs. ‘I am just an industrialist.’

‘But this is 1985,’ rants the Jew. ‘What the fuck is going on?’

The Chairman nods. The Chairman stiffens his upper lip –

‘Have they stormed the barricades?’ raves the Jew. ‘Have they killed the King?’

The Chairman tears up his letter of resignation –

‘What time shall I expect the knock upon my door?’ laughs the Jew –

The Chairman laughs now. The Chairman reaches out to embrace the Jew –

‘Remember,’ whispers the Jew. ‘There’s no politics without industry.’

a slice of toast — So you didn’t get much work, then? I asked him. He shook his head. He said, there must be tenthousand miners down there doing same — I wish they’d stayed bloody put, I said. I wish you had — There were no brass, Pete. And I won’t beg. Never. That’s not me — Least you’re back now, I said. You know there are some that had you down as a scab — I know, he said. I saw what they did to house — I’m sorry, I said. He laughed. He said, Not my house now, is it? I stood up. I said, You still be here in morning, will you? He nodded. He said again, I’m sorry, Pete — Just one bloke. Butit’s not Martin — Final push now. Last few days — Board wanted their 50 per cent. Board wanted us beat — Decision was made to go up to Wath.This was against wishes of Area. But no one gave two shits what anyone else said or thought now — It was a very personal matter now and if you were still out it was because of you — Not because someone told you to stay out. Not because you were intimidated — There were still some rallies in offing. But this looked like last away-day, if you like. Right set-to and all — Had police outnumbered at start. They brought in back-up. Krk-krk . Piled out of vans and straight into us. They were local — South bloody fucking Yorkshire. Force we fucking paid for out of our fucking rates — Here to settle scores, I could see that. Bad as anything in whole strike — But I was numb. Fucking numb to it all now — I watched them grab this one lad. I watched them beat him to ground. I watched them jump up and down on him. Big black boots on his chest. Up and down. Up and down. They were animals — Let loose by government. Free to do what the fuck they wanted — They had got away with every single thing they’d tried. There’d be no going back now — No rights for ordinary folk. Not now — Minute we could, we went straight back to car. Legged it — Keith. Martin. Chris. And me. Most folk did — Made our way back from Wath to Welfare.More rumours and trouble waiting to welcome us there — Lot of talk that they’d got four hundred back in at work now. That they didn’t need any more — Be younger scabs who had started it again. Big gobs on them — Last two hundred in would be sacked. Hundred would be finished — Two hundred laid off. Anyone who was on strike for more than a year faced automatic dismissal — No-strike contracts being prepared. Redundancy rights would be denied to strikers — Every man who stayed out over twelve months would have to undergo a medical. That was one that had really put wind up folk — I’m going to lose my job, said Billy. I’ve spent my whole fucking life down there and I know I’d not pass a medical. Not with my chest problems. Problems they gave me. I didn’t stay out all this time to let her and all her cronies take away my job on health grounds. Health they bloody took from me — It’s not right, I told him. It’s just a rumour — That’s what you say, said Billy. But you know as much as we do and I’m sorry, but you’ll be no good to us when we get back in. Not position Union are in now — He was right. There was nothing I could say to him — Nothing to make it all better. Nothing to make it like it had been — This rate, scabs would be in majority. They’d already taken over Unity Club. Put it about that this Hit Squad of theirs would sort out last of strikers — I knew for a fact that they’d bullied a couple of younger lads into going back. Threatening kiddies of other folk — Kind of blokes they were. But they still had to get a mesh bus into work. One time they did try to walk in, they did it with their eyes on floor — Billy, I said, this morning I saw two scabs walking up our street. You know how I know they were scabs? Because one was walking forwards while other walked backwards. That you, is it, Billy? Walking backwards up a dark street because you’re that ashamed of what you’ve done. That frightened of what folk would say or do to you because of what you had done to them — To their pit. Their village — That you, is it, Billy? Or would you join this Hit Squad and go about picking on young lads? Threatening them. Intimidating them. Waving your pay cheque and your scab brass

Monday 18 — Sunday 24 February 1985

The cigarette. The kiss. The wrong number. The look and then silence —

Until the knock on the door, and things fell apart —

Hearts. Minds. People. Marriages. Families. Unions. Governments and societies —

They always did. They always have. They always would –

These fragile things. Burdened. These frail things. Broken —

Promises and plans. Fidelities. Arrangements and agreements. Allegiances —

Faiths turned rotten. Faiths gone bad —

Bad Faith, 1969 to 1984 –

The sounds of the animal kingdom filled the room. The knock on the door again.

Malcolm walked over to the door. Malcolm touched the Emergency Procedures –

Malcolm asked, ‘Who is it?’

‘Room Service.’