1980

Thinking, fuck, fuck, fuck -

Asking: ‘Same time?’

He nods.

Silence again, silence until -

Until I stand up -

‘Good afternoon,’ I say.

They mumble as I see myself out.

I close the door behind me, stop for a moment outside -expecting to hear raised voices inside.

Disappointed, I turn and walk straight into Dick Alderman -

‘Letting you go, are they?’ he winks.

I smile back: ‘Good behaviour.’

‘I find that very hard to believe,’ he grins, knocking on the Chief Constable’s door. ‘From what I’ve heard.’

I smile, thinking -

I know the time, I know the way -

I know the place, know the place well.

Leeds, fucking Leeds:

Medieval Leeds, Victorian Leeds, Concrete Leeds -

Concrete decay, concrete murder, concrete hell -

A concrete city -

Dead city:

Just the crows, the rain, and the Ripper -

The Leeds Ripper -

King Ripper.

Monday Night in the City of the Dead -

I park under the dark arches, dripping and damp, walls running with water and rats -

The driest place in the whole bloody city.

I gather up the Exegesis and the various pieces of pornography and blackmail that litter the car and heap them into a Tesco’s bag, then I walk up through the arches, past the Scarborough, into the Griffin.

I ring the bell and wait, listening -

Electronic Beethoven.

The receptionist comes out of the back, a faint smile as he recognises me -

‘Mr Hunter?’

‘Good evening,’ I say.

‘What can I do for you, Mr Hunter?’

‘I’d like a room, please.’

‘For how long?’

‘I don’t know,’ I shrug. ‘A couple of nights perhaps?’

‘Fine,’ he says and pushes the paperwork across the desk.

I put down my Tesco bag and pick up a pen from the desk.

The receptionist goes over to the keys hanging behind the desk, takes one from its hook and places it next to the forms I’m filling in.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, not looking up. ‘I was hoping to have my old room again? 77?’

‘That’s what I’ve given you, sir,’ he says.

I look at the key lying on the desk next to my hand -

‘Thank you,’ I say, but he’s already gone.

In the room, the dark room -

No sleep.

No more sleep, just -

Two huge wings that burst through the back, out of my skin, torn, two huge and rotting wings, big black things that weigh me down, heavy, that stop me standing -

Solemn and grave.

No more sleep, just -

Wings, wings that burst through my back, out of the skin, torn, huge and rotting things, big black wings that weigh me down, heavy, that stop me standing -

Solemn and grave from birth.

No sleep, just -

Just Exegesis etched into my chest, nails bloody, bleeding, broken -

Et sequentes.

Notes everywhere, across the floor, the bed, the Griffin furniture, I check my watch, turn the radio down, pick the phone up off the bed and get a dialling tone, check my watch against the speaking clock and dial, hoping her parents don’t answer again:

‘Joan?’

‘Peter? Where are you?’

‘Leeds.’

‘Why?’

‘They haven’t finished with me,’ I whisper. ‘I have to be back there at two tomorrow.’

‘Really?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Oh how I wish you weren’t there,’ she says, voice splintered. ‘I hate that place, those people. Every time you’re ever there we’ve had nothing but bad luck and news.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I say. ‘Couldn’t get any worse.’

‘Don’t tempt fate, Peter. Please…’

‘I won’t,’ I say, then ask: ‘How’s Linda?’

‘Sedated.’

‘What time did you get back?’

‘Tenish. But I went over to see her mum and dad, the kids.’

‘How are they?’

‘How do you think they are?’

‘Do the kids realise what’s happened?’

‘I think the army of reporters outside the house should help.’

‘Fuck,’ I say. ‘I’ll call Smith, tell him to get his act together.’

‘I already did,’ she says.

‘You called Clement Smith?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re joking? What did you say?’

‘Told him what I thought of his treatment of the Dawsons and us.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He told me he was only acting as duty dictated.’ ‘What did you say?’

‘Told him he would rot in hell for what he’d done.’

‘You didn’t? What did he say?’

‘I don’t know, I hung up.’

‘Joan!’

‘He’s a pompous fool, Peter.’

‘But he is only doing his job.’

‘So was Herod.’

‘Joan, please…’