1983

He sits down.

‘Give us tenner.’

Jim reaches inside his anorak and takes out a brown wallet and hands BJ two five pound notes.

BJ put them in trouser pocket and kneel down in front of him pushing his legs open.

‘Just a minute,’ says Jim and unzips his anorak.

‘And trousers,’ BJ say.

‘They never check this place, do they?’ he asks.

‘Who?’

‘The police? The bus company?’

‘Shoosh,’ BJ smile and reach into Jim’s fly and his underpants.

‘What if -’

BJ glance at BJ’s watch: ‘Do you want to stop?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘No.’

‘Well, shut up and relax,’ BJ hiss and pull Jim’s limp cock out of his vest and pants, sweet and sour smell of old talc and dry piss in BJ’s face -

BJ stroke him until he is hard and then BJ start to suck -

And Jim closes his eyes and dreams he is fucking BJ up arse as BJ beg him to never stop, his muscular left forearm tight around BJ’s thin little neck, his right fist around BJ’s pale cock as his own slides in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and -

Out:

Jim comes and BJ spit.

Jim does himself up and asks: ‘You usually here, are you?’

BJ shake BJ’s head: ‘Your first time?’

Jim blushes and then nods.

‘I’m just passing through,’ BJ say.

‘That’s a shame.’

BJ nod.

‘Where are you from?’

‘I’m a space invader,’ BJ wink and open door and step out of cubicle.

Jim stays there, smiling.

‘You should go first,’ BJ tell Jim.

‘Thank you,’ he says.

‘Mention it.’

Jim looks confused like he wants to shake BJ’s hand, but BJ look away into mirror and Jim hurries off home for a safer and more leisurely wank on his bathroom mat.

BJ run tap into dirty sink and splash icy water on BJ’s face and rinse some round mouth and get dry with bottom of star shirt and then BJ count money and walk out across empty platforms through grey light to cafй and sign that promises all-day Christmas dinners today -

Christmas Eve.

BJ look at BJ’s watch:

It’s almost five.

BJ open door and step into cafй -

It’s empty but warm and radio is on.

A big woman with a red face comes out of back.

‘You open?’ BJ ask.

‘Just about,’ she smiles.

‘Ta,’ BJ say.

‘What can I get you?’

‘Tea please.’

‘Be five or ten minutes? I’ve just stuck it on.’

BJ nod and sit down opposite door.

There’s a paper on one of chairs, yesterday’s -

Two headlines:

RL STAR’S SISTER MURDERED.

COUNCILLOR RESIGNS .

By Jack Whitehead and George Greaves -

Two headlines and two faces:

Paula Garland and William Shaw -

Bill.

‘Hello?’

BJ look up into another face -

Clare’s face:

Streaked black with mascara rivers she’s cried, smudged black where she’s tried not to, her hair now blonde again -

‘Hello,’ BJ say and stand up and go towards her and take her in BJ’s arms and hold her as BJ and Clare shake with tears and shock of it all until woman comes out of kitchen with tea and asks if Clare wants one as well and BJ nod and say she does and BJ and Clare sit back down across table from each other, Clare’s hands in BJ’s hands, and woman brings another cup and asks if everything is OK and BJ tell her everything is OK but when she’s gone, Clare asks: ‘What are we going to do?’

‘Get out of here,’ BJ say.

‘Where?’

‘Scotland?’

‘It’s where the kids are,’ she says and hangs her head. ‘Be first place they’ll look.’

‘London?’

‘Second place.’

‘Preston?’

Clare looks up: ‘Why?’

‘There’s a coach at five-thirty.’

‘Aye,’ she nods and then she looks at BJ with her huge black eyes and asks: ‘Why Gracie?’

‘Loose ends,’ BJ say.

‘So what are we?’

Chapter 7

I woke again after less than an hour and lay in the shadows and dead of the night, the house quiet and dark, listening for something, anything: animal or bird’s feet from below or above, a car in the street, a bottle on the step, the thud of a paper on the mat, but there was nothing; only the silence, the shadows and the dead, remembering when it wasn’t always so, wasn’t always this way, when there were human feet upon the stairs, children’s feet, the slam of a ball against a bat or a wall, the pop of a cap gun and a burst balloon, bicycle bells and front doorbells, laughter and telephones ringing through the rooms, the smells, sounds and tastes of meals being cooked, served