NINETEEN SEVENTY FOUR
a lane signposted to: DEVIL’S DITCH... Past half-built houses
The Year of Our Lord 1974
4 OMITTED 4
“This town ain’t big enough for the both of us...”
EDDIE DUNFORD - youthful, ambitious, libidinous. Elongated
North. Singing along.
He checks the time.
Fucked and he’s only just started. He drives like a demon.
Eddie, late and sweating. Editor, BILL HADLEY, grey beard,
pointedly at his watch.
Sorry to hear about your father,
Thanks, Mr. Hadley. He had a good
This is Detective Superintendent
Jobson. Mr. Dunford’s hoping to be
the Post’s new Crime Correspondent.
They shake hands.
with Jack Whitehead...
Good old Jack.
Mr. Dunford’ll be standing in.
beery JOURNOS. TV lights, notebooks, memo recorders.
Cut his teeth at our Yorkshire
Post. Been down South.
Young Turk, then.
Made a pig’s ear of it down there
as I understand.
eyes - KATHRYN TYLER.
She’s serious. Sad eyes never lie.
Fuck off, Barry. That’s history.
Here, funeral’s in 2 hours. It’s
going to be tight.
We’ll make it.
How’s your mother?
You know, bearing up.
Yorkshire lass through and through.
Jack? On the piss probably. Don’t
worry, son, you got your legs well
under the table. Just do the job.
Yeah. Fuck him. He’s not getting in
on this one.
Aye up, the Owl’s on.
white clouds. We recognise her as the Dead Angel. Eddie
switches on his memo recorder.
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