1983

Hazel.

You know where she is.

Part 5. Total eclipse of the heart

‘Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do.’

– Voltaire

Chapter 51

There is a light summer rain falling on empty flowerbeds below my window.

Doctor shines torch in my eyes again. He gives me three injections. Nurse cleans my wounds. She administers to my bandages. Doctor smiles. He shakes my hand. Nurse nods. She kisses my cheek. They leave me to dress.

Rain has stopped and there is sunshine somewhere behind clouds.

I get out of bed. I put on a heavy army greatcoat. I straighten my cap. I turn my collars up. I walk down corridor. I go into dayroom. I walk across carpet with a swastika held high in hand, rest of room prostrate at my feet in their dressing-gowns -

Fugitive sunshine caught in their tears -

I’ve been so far away;

I say my goodbyes -

So far from her arms;

Hospital clock strikes thirteen -

Hate Week.

This is North -

Where they do what they want -

Wellington Street, Leeds.

I get off bus. I go into coach station toilets. I take off my cap and coat. I unravel bandages. I look at my face in mirror. I tilt my head down. I stare up into glass -

It gets dark.

I take out my scissors. I cut my hair. I shake my head. Loose hairs fall into sink. I run taps. I take out my razor. I mix soap and water in my hand. I rub it over my scalp. I pick up razor. I shave my neck. I shave my face. I shave my head. I look at my face in mirror. I tilt my head down. I stare up into glass -

It gets dark and -

There are visions of sixes and sevens, swastikas and crucifixes inside my head, big black and white ones all splattered with blood in an underground bunker, in an upstairs bar, on a motel wall, in a hotel room on seventh floor -

A toilet wall.

It gets dark and I get confused.

I put my cap and army coat back on. I shine my best badge:

UK Decay.

I walk over to a phonebox. I step inside. I close door. I pick up phone. I dial her number. She does not answer phone:

Never answers her phone, she never answers her phone; that is her way -

It is a war of nerves.

I am hungry now. I go into cafй. A lovely girl asks me what I want. I take a cup of tea from her and a hot toasted teacake. I give her money. She smiles at me. I take my tea and toast over to a table. I sit down. I watch her work. I enjoy my tea and toast. I thank her. I pick up my bag and leave.

I walk down Wellington Street into City Square -

There are voices from vans;

Past two stone lions and Leeds City Station -

There are posters on walls;

Along Boar Lane, past Griffin Hotel -

There are ghosts on every corner;

Across Vicar Lane and along Call Lane -

In windows and doorways;

Through Market into Bus Station and Millgarth -

A black winged gargoyle looming;

It watches me with talons pointed as memories are dull -

It is dark now. I am confused;

I wait for bus to Fitzwilliam -

A shadow on wall.

Bus comes. I get on. I sit upstairs -

Backseat hard.

I light matches. I smoke cigarettes. I read seats -

Thornhill Whites; Jeff is gay; LUFC; Barry 4 Clare.

I light matches. I remember faces. I remember hers -

I think about her all time.

I light matches -

Will she like me? Love me? Let me in? Let me stay, way people say -

Or will she remember me? Hate me? Wish me dead, way people do.

I let them fall to floor -

Fucking cunts treat us like pricks.

I light another match -

Why this person is liked and that one is not -

Why this one is loved and that one is not.

It burns my fingers. I let it fall -

A lie to him but not to her -

A kiss for him and a slap for me.

I close my eyes -

It gets dark.

I want to open them again. I cannot -

My trousers are round my ankles. Your hands are on my cock. Your own is in my mouth. You come in my face. You beat me. You rape me all over again. You give me money. You tell me to shut my mouth. Shut my mouth or you’ll kill my mum -