The Twenty-fourth Week
Monday 13 — Sunday 19 August 1984
The wind rattled the wire. The question distorted. The torture displaced. The pain disembodied. Theguard backto haunt the ghost —
Malcolm heard her inhale. Malcolm heard her exhale. Malcolm opened his eyes.
Diane said, ‘They took your warrant card?’
Malcolm swallowed. Malcolm nodded.
She stubbed out the cigarette. She put a hand on his wounds. She kissed his ears.
Malcolm flinched. Malcolm cried.
Diane stood up. Diane said, ‘Run, Malcolm. Hide.’
Malcolm closed his eyes until she’d gone. Her smell always the same now —
Disinfectant.
Theresa Winters had gone down to Bath to stay with her parents and the children. Theresa had said she would stay there until Terry apologized for all the things he had done. For all the things he had said –
The stupid things.
Terry dried his eyes. Terry said, ‘I blame myself.’
The President stood up in front of the huge portrait of himself. He walked round to where Terry was sitting. He handed Terry a tissue. He put a hand on Terry’s shoulder –
Terry looked up at the President. Terry said, ‘Please don’t blame Gareth.’
‘I don’t blame either of you, Comrade,’ said the President. ‘How could I?’
Terry blew his nose. Terry waited –
The sequestrators had seized seven hundred thousand pounds from South Wales. Itwould be held until the NUM leaders purged their contempt —
Terry’s plans had failed.
‘How could anyone,’ continued the President, ‘how could anyone possibly have foreseen the extent to which this government would manipulate the country’s legal system in order to conspire against and crush the attempts of any trade unionist to save their job? How could you have foreseen that? You tried your best, Comrade —’
Terry sniffed. Terry nodded –
‘But your best was not good enough,’ said the President. ‘Next time, Comrade?’
‘Next time,’ said Terry. ‘Next time my best will be more than good enough.’
The President sat down in front of his portrait. He said, ‘Then you are forgiven.’
Terry stood up. Terry said, ‘Thank you, President. Thank you.’
The President did not look up from his desk.
Len held open the door for Terry. Terry walked backwards out of the room –
Terry went upstairs. He sat on his chair and looked around the Conference Room. Terry saw Bill Reed. Bill Reed winked. Terry looked away. Terry saw Samantha Green. Samantha was the Union’s new solicitor. Terry smiled. Samantha looked away –
The President entered. Everyone rose –
The President was still fuming about the former Grey Fox –
‘Least he’s from Nottinghamshire,’ shouted the President. ‘Not a collier either, bloody blacksmith or something. Only done that for five year too. But I will say again, here and now, I don’t want a single hair of his head touched.’
Everybody nodded.
‘Not one hair,’ said the President. ‘But these other two —’
‘Don Colby and Derek Williams,’ said Paul.
‘— these two are from Yorkshire. Bloody faceworkers at Manton —’
‘Nottingham in all but name,’ said Paul.
‘They’re Yorkshiremen,’ said the President. ‘They should know better.’
Everybody nodded again.
The President looked over at Samantha Green. He said, ‘Love —’
‘There are, in total, eleven orders now facing the Yorkshire Area,’ she said. ‘These scabs want a declaration from Justice Warner that the strike is not official in Yorkshire without a ballot. In some respects it’s similar in nature to the actions brought against North Wales and the Midlands. Their lawyers are to argue that the 1983 Inverness Conference decision calling for action against any proposed pit closures was discretionary — not mandatory — and that this supersedes the 1981 vote, which, they argue, is too remote anyway. They have had help though —’
‘Inside help and all,’ said the President. ‘Lot of it too —’
Everybody stopped nodding. Everybody looked back up the table.
‘They have copies of the National and Yorkshire rulebooks. They have copies of the agendas and minutes for the past five area conferences, for the National and Area executive committees, and for the Yorkshire Strike Co-ordinating Committee. Not just minutes, actual verbatim reports.’
Terry Winters glanced across the table at Bill Reed. Bill Reed said, ‘Who?’
‘Huddersfield Road,’ said the President.
Bill Reed said, ‘I warned you.’
‘Aye, you warned us,’ said Dick. ‘But you didn’t give us a name, did you?’
Bill Reed smiled. Bill said, ‘You want it on a silver plate, do you, Comrade?’
‘I wanted more than gossip and rumour, aye,’ said Dick.
Bill shook his head. He said again, ‘I warned you, Comrade. I warned you.’
‘Enough of this bloody bickering,’ said the President.
Bill Reed tapped the table. Bill said, ‘Here, here.’
The President looked at Bill Reed. The President looked around the whole room. The President said, ‘Now is the time for action, Comrades. Action.’
Everybody nodded once again. Everybody clapped.
Terry Winters glanced back across the table at Bill Reed. Bill winked.
Terry Winters looked away. Terry looked over at Samantha Green –
Samantha was staring at Bill Reed –
Bill winked again.
‘To your posts,’ said the President. ‘Be vigilant! Be valiant! Be victorious!’
Everyone applauded. Briefly. Then everyone ran for cover –
The Chairman wanted the President prosecuted for criminal conspiracy.
Terry took the lift back down. Terry stood between the Denims and the Tweeds. The Denims had their tobacco tins in their hands. The Tweeds their pouches –
‘Fuck you, Stalin. Bugger you, Trotsky,’ all the way down and out –
Terry walked through the lunchtime shoppers. Made his way across the precinct. He went into Boots. He wandered around the pharmacy. He looked at the pills and the medicines. He bought two hundred aspirins. Deodorant and mouthwash. He paid by cash. He went into W. H. Smith. He wandered around the newspapers and the magazines. He looked at the contents and the headlines. Reagan had joked about bombing Russia in five minutes. He bought every paper with a jobs section. Writing paper and envelopes. He went into Marks & Spencer. He wandered around the Men’s Department. He looked at the shirts and the suits. He picked up a pair of socks –
‘Not getting cold feet are we, Comrade?’ asked Bill Reed.
Malcolm drove home to Harrogate. Fast. He left the car parked in the middle of the road. Doors open. He ran into the house. The lounge. He tore the cassettesoff the shelves —