The Forty-ninth Week
Monday 4 — Sunday 10 February 1985
Much of the country was flooded. The pound had slipped further. There were unreported power cuts. People swinging in the wind. But the Fat Man was back again –
Fresh from tea at the Savoy with the Minister; dinner at the Ritz with the Board —
Here to save the day –
But not Terry’s day –
The receiver had five million of their pounds. He was on to the Dublin money too. He had paid all their fines. He wanted to end sequestration. He wanted sole control –
Terry’s days were numbered. The clock ticking down. The President’s too –
‘We are not begging and crawling for a resumption of negotiations,’ he shouted. ‘And there appears to be a very real determination to make us accept the principle that pits should close on economic grounds even before getting to the negotiating table —’
But the Fat Man just nodded his fat head. The Fat Man was not going to give up. The Fat Man persuaded the NEC to stay in the capital another twenty-four hours –
For a third fucking day.
‘I am not walking away from the search for negotiations,’ declared the Fat Man. ‘The problem is too big to leave alone.’
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck –
Terry had to get out. Had to get away. Had to get home. He had to find a phone –
Terry made the call. Terry went back inside TUC Headquarters –
‘There is no possibility at all of this Union ever accepting conditions of that kind,’ the President was saying again. ‘No union leaders worth their salt would ever be a party to such measures. Never. Not in a month of bloody Sundays would —’
There was a knock at the door. There was a note passed to the President –
The President read the note. The President looked up at Terry –
Terry blinked. Terry smiled. Terry said, ‘What is it, Comrade President?’
‘It’s your wife,’ said the President. ‘I’m afraid there’s been an accident.’
*
The Jew attends the unveiling of a memorial to Yvonne Fletcher in St James’s Square. The Jew is in a sombre suit and coat, under an umbrella held by Neil –
‘— without the police,’ the Prime Minister is reminding the assembled people, ‘there would be no law and there would be no liberty —’
The Jew nods in his sombre suit and coat, under an umbrella held by Neil –
His eyes never leave her face; hope never leaves his heart –
But she leaves without a word. Not even a goodbye. Without a second glance –
‘Because of her courage, her resilience,’ the Jew is quick to tell Neil in the car, ‘it’s all too easy to forget that behind the Iron Lady mask is a mother and a woman.’
Neil Fontaine nods. Neil Fontaine drives the Jew back to Hobart House –
The National Working Miners’ Committee will be waiting for them.
‘There is still so much to be done, Neil,’ says the Jew. ‘In public and in private.’
Neil Fontaine nods again. Neil Fontaine could not agree more –
He is paying men from the small ads ten quid an hour to stand in doorways.
Neil Fontaine parks the car. Neil Fontaine follows the Jew upstairs to his office –
Chloe shows in Fred and Jimmy. Chloe hands the Jew new reports and a coffee –
‘Did you arrange a time for the meeting with the Chairman?’ asks the Jew.
Chloe bites her bottom lip. Chloe says, ‘I’m afraid he’s unavailable today, sir.’
‘Unavailable? Unavailable to whom?’ laughs the Jew. ‘Unavailable to me?’
Fred Wallace brushes the top of his trouser leg. Jimmy Hearn fiddles with his ear.