The Thirty-sixth Week
Monday 5 — Sunday 11 November 1984
Terry Winters raged. Terry Winters roared –
‘That bastard has betrayed me for the last time,’ he ranted. ‘The very last time.’
Diane ran a bath for Terry. Diane dabbed warm water on Terry’s arms and legs. His neck and face. She soothed his skin and bones. His brow. His conscience –
‘Think about the money,’ said Diane.
‘They’d be bankrupt already without me,’ said Terry again. ‘They need me.’
‘They need you,’ agreed Diane. ‘But they don’t deserve you.’
The Mechanic stands in the phone box. He takes a breath. He dials her number —
It rings once. She picks it up. She says, ‘David?’
‘Mum,’ says the Mechanic. ‘It’s me.’
‘Oh, love, where are you? Where have you been? Been worried sick —’
‘I can’t tell you.’ says the Mechanic. ‘I can’t stay on here long, either —’
‘Picture’s on front of every paper. Every news. Every time I switch it on —’
‘I know, I know —’
‘But they’ve not said your name,’ she says. ‘Haven’t been here, either. I —’
‘They won’t.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she says. ‘Why won’t they?’
‘Because they want me dead, Mum. That’s why.’
Poor woman doesn’t speak for a moment. Then she asks him straight. She says, ‘Did you do it, love? Did you kill that policeman, David?’
‘Yes,’ says the Mechanic. ‘I did.’
‘Then you’d best be off then,’ she says and hangs up.
Terry Winters stayed under the sheets until the children had left for school. Theresa for work. No risk of silences on the stairs. Coldness over the cornflakes. Hysterics in the hall. Terry Winters would have stayed in bed all day –
But there was always a chance that Diane might phone.
Terry went down the stairs. Terry ate his cornflakes. Terry stood in the hall –
There was always a chance.
*
The Jew is the boss now. Mr Fixit his face. The newest face among the many new faces. The Suits did not go gracefully. The Suits kicked. The Suits screamed. But the Suits went. The Jew is the boss now. The Jew calls the shots. The tunes. The Jew gives the orders. The area directors meet every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The directors sit on the phones in the Conference Room. They need the numbers of new faces from their areas. Mr Fixit writes the figures up on the wall. The Jew totals them up –
Eight hundred and two today; two thousand two hundred this week.
Neil opens the biscuit tins. Neil changes the colour of the pins –
From red to yellow. From yellow to blue —
Twenty-eight point five per cent now blue; some blue in all twelve areas –
Nottinghamshire leads the way as ever. But Derbyshire has made the most gains. Yorkshire, the North East, Scotland and South Wales remain very, very red.
The area directors sit around the conference table. Mr Fixit chairs the meeting. Mr Fixit wants to know what works and what doesn’t. The Jew takes the minutes –
‘There is a sense of isolation,’ says Scotland. ‘After NACODS.’
The North East disagrees. The North East says, ‘The business in Libya.’
‘The bonus‚’ say the other areas. ‘That’s the only reason they’re returning.’
The Jew shakes his head and sighs. The Jew puts down his pen and says, ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen. The only reason they are returning is because there is no hope upon their horizon. No hope whatsoever. The strike stretches out before them like an endless sea of suffering. A desert of debt, poverty and pain. And their president can give them nothing to take away their pain. Nothing to ease their suffering –
‘No support from other unions. No money. No prospect of talks –
‘No talks means no hope and no hope means they’ll return and continue to return.’
Mr Fixit nods. The directors nod. The Jew nods –
The Chairman sits in the corner and plays patience with himself.
The directors go back to the areas. To fight the good fight. To win the just war –
Mr Fixit takes the numbers downstairs to show the press they are winning.
Neil Fontaine drives the Jew to Downing Street to tell her they are winning –
The Minister comes out. The Jew goes in.
Neil looks at his watch. He taps it. It starts again. But Neil hasn’t time –
The Jew comes back out. The Minister goes back in.
Neil opens the door for the Jew. The Jew says, ‘Dublin, please, Neil.’
‘Certainly, sir,’ says Neil. He starts the car. He switches on the radio –
Ronnie’s on the radio. Cowboy Number One. Ronnie’s won a second term –
‘This is the start of everything,’ says Ronnie. ‘The start of everything.’
*
Terry Winters drove into Sheffield. Terry parked his car. Terry went back to work. Terry didn’t show his pass. The miners from Durham standing sentry knew Terry Winters –
Everybody knew Terry Winters now –
‘Gadhafi rules OK, eh, Tel?’ they shouted. ‘Ayatollah phoned back, has he?’
Terry Winters smiled. Terry tried to laugh, but their slaps on his back were hard. The digs in his ribs hurt. The hands in his hair rough –
But there was always a chance that Diane might phone again.
Terry went inside the building. Terry got in the lift with the Denims and the Tweeds. Terry pressed the button for his floor. The Denims and the Tweeds stared at him. The Denims whispered to the Tweeds. The Tweeds giggled behind their hands. The Denims sniggered. Terry got out of the lift. Terry walked down the corridor –
No Paul today; Paul was making speeches about comrades who broke ranks –
‘— I can tell you they will be treated like lepers —’
Terry Winters unlocked his office door. Terry went inside. Terry took an aspirin. He sat down under the portrait of the President. His desk was covered in paperwork. There was two weeks’ work piled up. The sequestration. The very many ramifications. The fears over the finances. The trouble with the overseas transfers. The concerns about the currencies. The urgent messages from Luxembourg to read. From Geneva. Dublin. The problems over the properties. The complications with the cars. The worries about the wages. The legal actions for and against. North Derbyshire now. South Wales again. The moves to make the national and area leaders personally liable for the fines and the costs. The injunctions against the use of Union finances to fund illegal picketing in an unlawful strike. The renewed requests for rallies. The requests for resources. For remuneration. The urgent calls from Samantha Green, six times, to return. From Clive Cook, four times. Bill Reed, twice. No urgent calls to return from the President. From Theresa. Diane. Terry Winters took another aspirin. Terry sank down under the portrait of the President and waited for the phone to ring –