few weeks. And one of them is you can’t trust anyone. Fuck me, if you can’t trust your own wife, who the fuck can you trust?”
“I know that, Boss. I know that. But women is different. You learn in fucking junior school that you can’t trust them. Even then they’re nicking your fags, ain’t they? Think of that fucking, you know, what’s her fucking name?”
“Eh?”
“Mata Hairy or something.”
“Never heard of her.”
“Then there was fucking Eve, right? Read between the lines and she shoved a fucking apple up her muffta.”
“Since when have you read the fucking bible?”
Breathless Billy shook a sad head. “You can’t fucking trust them. But men are different. Some of us. Some of us is trustworthy. Like your brother, maybe, or your fucking priest. Or, and this is the point, Boss, your fucking right-hand man. Namely me.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Breath. I’m sorry.”
“You should be. I’ve always been here for you. You’ve never had to ask that question. I’m your fucking, you know…fucking… Right?”
Ticker Harrison nodded sadly. Breathless Billy, for all his faults, was his right-hand man and just lately he’d been taking him for granted. He heard the voice again, the breathless wheezing voice. “Boss, what’s this piece of fucking wire stretched across the room for? For fuck’s sake, ankle high, you could trip over that fucker and do yourself some damage.”
“Breathless, for fuck’s sake, don’t touch – ”
Chapter 41
The moon was in its last quarter and the stars were as bright as he’d ever seen them. There were some dark clouds shouldering in from the east but for the moment they were unloading over Lover’s Wood. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the office. Cole turned from the window to face the silent incident room. The midnight oil had run out, the long unnecessary paperwork in duplicate and triplicate completed.
Anian placed a coffee on his desk.
“You’re going to have people talking.”
“We’re the only ones left, apart from the front desk. Sad people, aren’t we?”
He tasted the bitter coffee and pulled a face then said, “You should be at Hinckley or on sick leave. I’m surprised the North Mid let you out so soon.”
“Unless you’re dying you’re kicked out at Christmas, you know that Guv. I’m all right, honest. Even the counsellor agreed, said it was the best thing for me.”
“For God’s sake, Anian, you weren’t keen to come here when you were needed and now we can’t get rid of you.”
“Hinckley’s on holiday. There’s a notice on the door saying that in an emergency contact the Sheerham desk.”
“Is this an emergency?”
She held his gaze for an instant too long.
“You should be at home putting out mince pies and hanging up your stocking.”
“I don’t wear stockings. I thought you might have noticed.”
His smile was unexpected and warm and his blue eyes caught the overhead and sparked. “Well, this is an emergency, Guv. You can tell me to go if you like.”
He said eventually, “I was just off to the boozer. I don’t suppose you’d fancy a pint?” She gave him a little cat’s grin. “I was hoping you were going to say that. I don’t want to be alone tonight. It’s Christmas Eve and my flatmates have pulled duty.”
“Nurses, who’d have them? Their shifts are even worse than ours.”
“They drew straws and got New Year’s Eve. It’s always one or the other. Now Geoff’s gone I was wondering if I could use your spare room, or even the sofa?”
His pause seemed to go on forever before he said, “It’s probably not a good idea.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “You’re probably right.”
“On the other hand, if you know how to cook a turkey…”
A sudden smile lit her face. “You’ve actually got a turkey?”
“Well, not at the moment, but there are people will open a shop for me at any time day or night.” “You’d have to get the trimmings too. Brussels sprouts and Christmas pudding and pigs in blankets and crackers and…chestnut stuffing -”
He was about to respond with a Rick Cole line that was as good as you’d get on a dark December night when a case had been put to bed and a Teacher’s beckoned with its promise of fool’s gold, when a distant rumble had him turning back to the window. It took him a few moments to realize it was another bomb.
He shook his head and in almost a whisper said, “I wish I knew who was doing that.” “Kids,” she responded. “You’d think they’d have something better to do on Christmas Eve, wouldn’t you?”
He considered telling her about the house that had been demolished and the two accidental deaths that had been reclassified as murder but decided it could wait for another time. “Come on,” he said instead.
“Get your coat.”
From outside came the sounds of shouts and car horns and distant sirens and, above them all, a lone drunken voice: “Happy Christmas everyone! Have yourselves a very happy Christmas!”
Deleted Scene with director’s commentary
Deleted scene: Director’s commentary.
“Hello, I’m Julian Foster Grant. I don’t normally do these director’s cuts because I think my movies are brilliant to start with. All these director’s cuts are doing is putting hardearned money into the pockets of distributors and studios.
Now what you’re doing is giving more money to the fuckers who didn’t want you to see my original version in the first place. Or, even if they did, they realize that by picking up some shit from the cutting-room floor they can sell it to you again.
(Whisper off camera)
That was a joke, right? Ha, ha, ha. That wasn’t true.
Anyway, I thought Jude and Nicole were brilliant in this and, er, I was really sorry to have to lose it. Unfortunately it held back the, er, er…
(Whisper off camera)
…pace, that’s it. What I was trying to do, was explore the, er, er…
(another whisper off camera)
…fundamental differences, about passion, which there weren’t any and that’s why we had to cut it. (another whisper)
About, er, you know, that passion doesn’t, er, you know, as you get older, that it’s the same for the old gits as it is for the young people. It’s just that the old gits can’t do anything about it. And I think that really comes through. Like I said, I thought Madge was excellent… Sorry, didn’t I say that? Anyway, I was really sorry that she ended up, er, ended, er, on the cutting room floor. So was she. In this scene, right, as we enter the supermarket, Robot City, the camera swoops over the rows of tins of Heinz Beans and Batchelors Peas and Princes Tuna
Steaks and the lighting picks up Del Monte Fruit Cocktails and double cream and all the cheeses and then slowly we track up to the lingerie section with the models. I mean, we built this big dipper near enough, so the camera would go up and down and over the rows of food, mile after mile of the stuff, pizzas and puddings, blancmanges and curries, Bakewell tarts and macaroons and then…then we come to the models in the bras and knickers and suspenders, the women’s underwear section. See? See the point? (another whisper)
Well the point is…that if you ate all that fucking food you wouldn’t be able to get into any of the fucking
