1983

You shake your head. ‘Not me.’

He nods. ‘We all are.’

You close your eyes.

When you open them again, he is still staring at you -

Still waiting.

‘Will you make it right?’ he asks.

You nod -

‘Yes, sir,’ you say. ‘I will.’

You have dreams -

And in your dreams -

In your dreams, you cry tears -

But all your tears in all your dreams -

Are islands lost in fears -

The room red, white, and blue (like you).

He leads you down the corridor to the double doors and the courtyard.

A black van is waiting, its back doors open.

Moustache and Sandy are sitting inside.

‘You’re not coming?’ you ask.

He shakes his head. ‘I’ve been there before.’

There are tears in your eyes again. ‘We’ll meet again?’

‘Don’t know where, don’t know when,’ he says without a smile.

‘Some sunny place?’ you ask.

‘Where there is no darkness.

Chapter 57

Here come sirens, here come blue lights -

I turn back from window. I say: ‘They’re here.’

She is kneeling before settee. She is sobbing. She is clutching her rosary.

I drag her to her feet, left arm round her neck, right arm on shotgun.

I manoeuvre us over to door.

I yank it open just as two uniforms come through garden gate up path.

‘Get back!’ I shout. ‘Get back or I’ll blow her fucking head off.’

She is screaming, legs half off ground.

Uniforms scramble off back down garden path and out gate, back behind their car.

I lower shotgun. I pull trigger -

BANG!

Through hedge into side of their car -

Lights out.

I drag her back up path into house. I slam front door shut.

I push her back into living room. I tie her hands and feet together.

I pull back curtain. I break glass. I let off another shot into night -

BANG!

I reload:

We’ve only just begun.

I head straight into kitchen. I tip dresser and fridge in front of back door.

I break milk bottles. I break all her best china. I scatter it across barricade.

I tear back through into front room. I start shifting stuff in front of window.

She is just lying in middle of it all, teeth chattering.

I put my boot through TV. I take petrol. I splash it all over -

All over kitchen, all over front room.

‘Right,’ I say. ‘Time for bed.’

I drag her out front room upstairs into back bedroom.

I toss her on spare bed. I rush into front bedroom.

I tip bed and mattress on their ends. I put them over window, wardrobe behind them.

Downstairs I can hear phone ringing.

I take doors off bathroom and front bedroom. I put one over bathroom window and other across top of stairs.

I return to back bedroom. I move her off bed on to floor. I make sure she is secure. I upend bed. I put it low along bottom of window.

Downstairs telephone is still ringing.

I go back down stairs into hall, low as I go, no lights on:

Keep pain on inside.

I pick phone up. I say nothing -

Listen -

I say: ‘I want to talk to Maurice Jobson. Tell him I need a friend.’

I hang up.

I go halfway up stairs to wait.

It starts ringing again, phone.

I can see them moving about in garden.

I take off my shoe. I lob shoe at phone. I knock receiver off hook.

I hear them shout: ‘Go.’

I point shotgun at door. Just before it opens, I do -

BANG!

‘FUCK! FUCK! -’

Both barrels:

BANG!

‘FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!’

I go back upstairs. I put door across top again. I go into back bedroom.

She is lying on floor, skirt up around her ears as bloody usual -

Bawling, waterworks.

I can hear more sirens.

I look up -

There are posters on bedroom walls, Karen and Richard -

Yesterday Once More.

‘Where’s Barry?’ I yell at her. ‘What fuck you done with him?’