David Peace - Red or Dead

Bob Paisley nodded. And Bob Paisley said, OK then, Bill. But don’t you be overdoing it now. With all those letters …

Bill Shankly stopped in the doorway. The doorway to the office. Bill Shankly turned back to Bob Paisley –

So we are agreed then, Bob? That my last day will be Monday 12 August? My last official day. And that is OK with you, Bob?

Yes, Bill. Of course it is. Anything you want is fine with me, Bill. As I say, you don’t have to ask …

How old are you, asked Bill Shankly. One foot in the office, one foot in the corridor. If you don’t mind me asking, Bob …

Bob Paisley said, Fifty-five, Bill. Why do you ask?

I was just wondering, said Bill Shankly. I mean, we’ve worked together for a long time now …

Bob Paisley smiled. And Bob Paisley said, Yes. Fifteen years.

Yes, said Bill Shankly. Fifteen years. But all that time I never knew how old you were. I mean, I don’t suppose it really mattered. I don’t suppose it does. I mean, once you stop playing …

Bob Paisley nodded. And Bob Paisley said, But it can still catch up with you. With the best of folk.

Yes, said Bill Shankly again. But how old were you then when you stopped playing, Bob?

Bob Paisley smiled. And Bob Paisley said, I was thirty-five. March 13, 1954, was my last game. Here at Anfield. Against Charlton Athletic. We lost as well. Three — two. And you, Bill?

The same, said Bill Shankly. Thirty-five. But I felt I could have gone on, Bob. I felt I could have gone on forever.

Bob Paisley nodded. And Bob Paisley said, We all did, Bill.

Aye, Bob. But we were young then. And we were wrong, Bob. We were all wrong. No one goes on forever, Bob. No one is immortal, said Bill Shankly. And Bill Shankly glanced around the office. At the shelves, the shelves of books. The books of names, the books of notes. At the pictures on the wall. The history, the memories. At the clock on the wall. Ticking and ticking. Bill Shankly smiled. Bill Shankly turned away. And Bill Shankly said, See you later, Bob. See you now …

And Bob Paisley watched Bill Shankly walk down the corridor. The bag of mail in one hand, the typewriter under his arm. In his suit and in his tie. His red tie. His Liverpool Football Club tie.

In the hotel, in the room. Bill paced and Bill paced. Bill had travelled down to London with the team. Bill had checked into the hotel with the team. Bill had eaten dinner with the team. Steak and chips. Tinned fruit and cream. Just like always, just like before. And then Bill had said goodnight to the team. And Bill had come up to the room. His hotel room. And Bill had started to pace. Up and down the room. The hotel room. Two hours later, Bill was still pacing the room. The hotel room. But now Bill stopped pacing. And Bill picked up the telephone. The telephone beside the bed. His hotel bed. Bill dialled a number. And Bill listened to the telephone ring. And ring and ring –

Hello, hello? Who’s speaking? Who is it now?

Hello, Don. Hello. It’s only me, Don. It’s only Bill. I just called to wish you good luck for tomorrow, Don. For the game tomorrow. And to say I’ll see you tomorrow, Don. In the tunnel …

Oh no, you won’t, said Don Revie. Because I’ll not be in the tunnel, Bill. Brian will be in the tunnel. You won’t see me tomorrow, Bill. Not unless you’re planning to sit in the Royal Box. Because that’s where I’ll be sitting. In the Royal Box. Where you should be, Bill.

Bill laughed. And Bill said, I hope you’re having me on, Don. I hope you’re pulling my leg. What the hell would you be doing sitting in the Royal Box? You should be in the tunnel, Don. With your team, man. Where you belong, Don. In the tunnel …

They are not my team now, said Don Revie. They are Brian’s team now. He’s the manager of Leeds United now. Not me. It’ll be his privilege to lead out that team tomorrow, Bill. Not mine.

No, Don. No. You won the Championship, Don. You won the League. Not Brian. It’s you who should be leading out your team tomorrow, Don. Not Brian. And I’m sure Brian feels the same …

To be frank with you, Bill, I couldn’t care less what Brian feels. All I know is that it is his team now. And so it is his job to lead them out at Wembley tomorrow. It’s Brian’s job now. Not mine.

I can’t agree, Don. I can’t agree. And I’m sorry you feel this way, Don. I really am. I was hoping we would both be leading out our teams tomorrow, Don. Saying our goodbyes together …

I’ve said my goodbyes, said Don Revie. And now I have moved on. I am the manager of England now, Bill. Not Leeds United. But I’ll be there. I’ll still be there, Bill. And I’ll be watching.

Bill laughed. And Bill said, Aye, Don. So you say. From the Royal Box. Well, I hope you have a nice time, Don. I hope you enjoy the view. And be sure to give my regards to the men with their brass and their wives with their jewellery. Goodnight, Don …

Bill put down the telephone. And Bill began to pace the room again. The hotel room. Up and down the room again. The hotel room. And then Bill stopped pacing. Bill took off his suit and tie. His red tie. His Liverpool Football Club tie. Bill put on his pyjamas. Bill went into the bathroom. The hotel bathroom. Bill switched on the light. The bathroom light. Bill walked over to the sink. Bill brushed his teeth. Bill washed his face. Bill dried his face. Bill dried his hands. Bill turned off the light. The bathroom light. Bill went back into the bedroom. The hotel bedroom. Bill switched off the light. The bedroom light. Bill got into bed. The hotel bed. And in the dark and in the silence. Bill stared up at the ceiling. The hotel ceiling. In the dark and in the silence. Bill could hear people in the street outside the hotel. Bill could hear people in the corridor outside the room. And in the dark and in the silence. Bill sat up. Bill got out of the bed. The hotel bed. In the dark and in the silence. Bill began to pace again. In the dark and in the silence. Up and down the room. The hotel room. In the dark and in the silence. Up and down. Bill paced and Bill paced –

Round and around, round and around –

Until night became day, until this room became another room. The dressing room. The Wembley dressing room. Bill pacing and Bill pacing. Round and around. The Liverpool dressing room. Buttoning his jacket, unbuttoning his jacket. His mouth dry and his palms wet. Bill paced and Bill paced. Round and around …

In the dressing room. The Wembley dressing room. Bob Paisley put a hand on Bill’s arm –

Do you want to say something, Bill? Are you going to say a few words before the game?

Bill shook his head. And Bill said, No, Bob. No. In fact, I think I’ll go and wait outside. Until you’re done, Bob. In the tunnel. I’ll be waiting outside, Bob. In the tunnel. Until you’re done, Bob …

Bill walked over to the dressing-room door. The Wembley dressing-room door. Bill opening the door. Bill listening to Bob. Bob speaking to the team. The Liverpool team –

To be honest, Bob was saying to the team, I’m a bit worried about this game, boys. It’s a bad time to have a game like this. Far too early in the season for a game like this. Of course, we want to win. And to put on a good show. But just go out there and knock the ball about a bit and try to enjoy yourselves …

Bill closed the dressing-room door behind him. The Wembley dressing-room door. And Bill stood in the tunnel. The Wembley tunnel. Between its high, bare walls. In its long, dark shadows. Bill waited for the team. The Liverpool team. In his grey herringbone suit. His red shirt, with the yellow stripes. And his dark tie. His loud, dark tie. Buttoning his jacket and unbuttoning his jacket. Bill waited and Bill waited. And then Bill heard the buzzer. The Wembley buzzer. And Bill turned. And Bill saw the Leeds team come out of their dressing room. And Billy Bremner shook his hand. And made a joke, a joke Bill didn’t quite catch. But Bill smiled. And Bill laughed. And Billy smiled. And Billy laughed. And then Brian Clough shook Bill’s hand. And Brian Clough said something to Bill, something like –