Текст книги "Ravages"

Автор книги: R.A. Padmos

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cannot be avoided forever for reasons that go far beyond the need for justice.

So when the police officer asks him to talk with them to try and answer some of the questions

they have and thus give as much information as he’s able to, he nods his consent. If not for all the

reasons of justice and the need to both restore balance and prevent blind revenge – even though he

knows the guys are more than willing to skip the whole process of careful investigation and a fair and

honest judicial process – then because of Daniël. The why may never be answered, but at least he will

know how.

Steve knows he’s not ready yet for feelings of anger and blind revenge. He spares no thoughts

for the ones behind the monster. They are insignificant at this moment. He prefers to revel in the

knowledge that only yesterday a nurse finally took this tube from his prick and allowed him to piss

like a human being. Like a man. Hurt like a bitch the first few times, but God, give him pain like that

any time of the day. He spends precious minutes remembering words and saying them aloud so he has

proof he can actually say them. Other minutes are for moving his fingers until he’s able to form

something that looks like a grip and finally he can make an almost fist, be it a weak one. He even lifts

his arms a few centimetres and for a few short seconds. But it’s a start as good as any other.

Concentrating on wiggling his toes is endlessly more important than spending precious energy on

detailed and bloody fantasies about revenge. If only because of Daniël’s radiant smile when Steve

shows him what old, yet new, things he’s able to do almost every single day.

If the police officers had waited a week or so longer, he might have been able to shake their

hands. He doesn’t want to shake their hands. He doesn’t want them here, asking questions he doesn’t

need to hear because they force him to think about answers. He wants to lift his arms and wiggle his

toes and move his head from side to side and taste the strawberry ice cream the gaffer brought for

him. They want him to invite the monster, to describe it in such detail it will no longer be a monster

and return to its original, much more frightening form.

The shaking has stopped.

“Sir? You can interrupt us and stop this statement at any time when you’re tired or it’s too

much for you. We can continue at a later moment if so needed. We will record your words, so there

will be no misunderstanding in the future. Your partner is free to be with you at all times. It’s most

likely we will ask you very specific questions about details of your story in a later phase of the

investigation. For now, we only ask you to tell us as much as you are able to remember.” The male

officer nods to his colleague, who places a small audio recorder on the bedside table. “When you’re

ready?”

He hasn’t forgotten a thing. At least he remembers enough to be able to tell a coherent story.

But when it forms in his head, ready to be told, part of him refuses to believe. The facts are what they

are: he’s been in hospital for the past two months. He had very nearly died. Despite his perseverance,

he’s nowhere near the point where he’s able to do something like sit upright without aid, let alone

stand on his two feet, eat a full meal, be awake from morning until night, hold Danny in his arms. That

only proves that Daniël told the truth about how bad it was. But he would never doubt his lover’s

honesty and truthfulness anyway. That still doesn’t mean the words and pictures forming in his mind

are what actually happened. Perhaps he made it all up, while he was so far away he all but forgot how

to find his way home. His mind could have done some pretty weird imagining.

“Mr Gavan?” the female detective interrupts.

He looks at her, then at Daniël. He feels he has nothing to say of any importance.

“Even if you can’t believe the things you are about to tell us, we would still like to hear your

story.”

How does she know his thoughts? He studies her face for a moment. How often had she asked

questions that wanted answers like knives and fists? She must have been long enough in her line of

work to know that people sometimes are truly incapable of believing their own memories.

There’s still one thing he isn’t sure of. The police officer had used the word partner when

referring to Daniël. Do they know? Or just assume? It’s no longer their own sweet little secret, Dan’s

story made that sufficiently clear, but that’s still about family and team-mates, who proved to be as

good as family. The hospital hadn’t sent Daniël away and the staff treated him in no way different

than they would have done with a female common law spouse.

He had overheard, half groggy from painkillers, the two nurses happily blabbering while

swiftly working through the daily routine of caring for his still nowhere nearly-healed body.

“Don’t you think Mr Gavan’s boyfriend ...?” one started.

“We’re not supposed to talk about patients and especially not...”

“I wasn’t going to say anything nasty. Just that I think he’s a cute one and so devoted. I mean

every single day and night he’s here. He’s always so sweet and caring to Mr Gavan. Never a wrong

word to any of us either. I always thought people like him, I mean famous people with loads of money,

treat everybody, well, you know how.”

“I know. When Mr Gavan was still so poorly and we all thought he wouldn’t make it, Mr

Borghart sat right next to the bed and touched him somewhere it wouldn’t hurt and talked to him.

Can’t understand a word of Dutch, but it sounded all nice and sweet.”

“He said ‘I love you’ a lot. That he wouldn’t leave him. I had a bit of a fling with a guy from

Holland on a holiday in Amsterdam a couple of years ago.”

“I want a Mr Borghart all of my own.”

“Don’t we all, girl, don’t we all?”

Of course the police know. Naive of him to think they hadn’t already done a lot of work before

they even showed up at his bedside. They have previously talked with Daniël about his habits and

routines, about what had been different that day. About the fact that he has no close relatives, unless a

handful of cousins in Ireland he hasn’t seen in years count as such. About his status as a single man.

No wife or girlfriend, no children. He watches the crime serials, too. Just never thought he would be

part of one.

He’s trying to buy time; to spare his beloved and to give himself viable reasons to live with the

monster and forget the truth behind it.

With his right hand safely in both of Daniël’s hands, he starts to talk.

He keeps the words clean and neutral. He feels the dizziness of being in love and thus loving

everything in and on this world deep in the pit of his stomach, but what he says is: “After I’d shared

one or two pints with a couple of old football mates, I felt like taking a bit of a walk before heading

home.”

Daniël’s hands warm around his right hand. This isn’t what the boy deserves for his courage.

“Walking makes it easier for me to think. About the kind of job we do, about ...”

“The police know about us, we talked when you, well, you know. There’s this anti-hate-crime

policy. That’s also for people like us. So you don’t have to pay attention to your words all of the time.

I’m holding your hand, right? Don’t see Kirkby doing that and he visits you twice on most weeks.”

“I guessed as much. Still, old habits and all.” Steve once again feels the pavement under his

feet and the wind in his face. “I was having a bit of a daydream about how we could be together and

still be playing for the club. Perhaps stay in the same region when they couldn’t use me any more in a

year or so, with me being past thirty and with the influx of young talent at defence.”

Don’t the police officers hear that strange whistling sound when he talks? Or are they too

polite to tell him he’s almost unintelligible? Daniël understands him … but Daniël is Daniël. Should

he ask for a drink of water?

“If Daniël had wanted that, me staying in Kinbridge and finding a job, I would have done it. Or

gone with him to no matter where, if he changed clubs. I can imagine some really big clubs wanting

him in a few years. Making it look all unsuspicious. But I would have left him, if he thought the risk

would be too much for his career. Couldn’t ask him to give it all up for me. Not when he’s still that

young and has so much to give to the sport.”

Daniël makes a small noise, but doesn’t say a word.

Steve sips on a glass of water the female officer hands him. “I wasn’t paying attention to where

I was going. Just walking and thinking about Daniël. You already know, of course, he had his parents

over. They don’t know...didn’t know about us. I was thinking about that, too. I was thinking so much.

Not paying attention. Just walking and thinking about Daniël and me.”

He drinks more water, but it doesn’t really do much good. He hears himself babbling. He

knows he has to get into that park. The park has a name; he knows it since yesterday, because he had

asked Matthew about it. Queen Elizabeth Park. He must have heard about it during the five years he’s

been living in Kinbridge. Doesn’t ring a bell. He doesn’t want to set another foot there, even if it’s in

thought, in words. Let them figure out what happened. They’re the police, it’s their job. He’s probably

going to say the wrong things, anyway. Making them look in the wrong direction, perhaps even getting

perfectly innocent fans into trouble. They should be doing those DNA things you see in what’s that

series called? The doctor had told Danny about the swelling of his brain. Must be bad for

remembering things correctly.

His right hand in Daniël’s hands.

“I’m so very sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done it. But I just had to.” Shame and

embarrassment creeps up his face in a flaming heat. “I didn’t realise there would still be other people

there. Seeing what I did. Some fine example I’ve been setting.”

Then he sees the hurt look in his lover’s eyes. It’s gone almost as fast as it came, but he didn’t

miss it. “Stupid, isn’t it, me making such a fuss about having to pee and not being able to find a decent

place to do it. Like it’s the end of the world. Must be my nan’s influence to always be a gentleman.” It

still doesn’t make him feel any less embarrassed. “Of course I’ll pay the fine.”

He looks at the policewoman. She knows what he’s trying to do, but doesn’t fall for it. She’s so

patient. Why is she so patient? They both are, she and the younger man. As if they don’t even care

how much time he needs to tell his story.

“You’re still okay?” The male officer asks.

Steve nods. It doesn’t matter, does it? He sips water and continues to talk.

Why were they doing that? What kind of place had he landed in? What was that man thinking?

“There was this man, trying to touch me when I was done zipping up. He kept looking at me.

He even told me he was married, that he had a family. Said he understood me. I should have pushed

him away, tell him to get lost. Tell all of them to get lost. Tell all those men standing there and

watching. I heard them, breathing so heavily like they were...

“I should have told them to do that somewhere else. I wasn’t interested. Why would I do

something like that? What reason could I possibly have? Cheating on Daniël with a complete stranger

in a park? They didn’t know about him. No one did.

“Suddenly, they were all gone. All of them. That man too.

“No one warned me. Not one of them.”

Daniël’s hands warm and safe.

“There must have been half a dozen or so of them. Big blokes. Smelled of beer and chips. Their

boots made those scraping noises. They were KTFC fans, so they recognised me. I thought ...”

He’s silent for seconds, then what must be minutes, but neither Daniël nor the detectives say

anything to encourage him to speak of what happened.

Then he talks again. He says the words that speak of pushes and shoves, of trying to fight back

and trying to get away. Of being kicked until he’s no longer able to get up again. He hears himself tell

about the kicking and the speculations about who else might be a bloody poof too.

They say Daniël’s name. They say: “Daniël Borghart,” in his voice.

They break the bones of his legs. As calmly as the voice that tells about them breaking fibula

and tibia and anklebone and kneecap.

They talk and talk and kick their heavy nailed boots against skin and muscle. Against his soft

belly and muscled back. They say Daniël’s name, he says: “You can’t have him” and his mouth

bleeds, his skull cracks. They make jokes while his fingers break and his hands turn to pulp. He speaks

their obscenities while they try how much of his body they can hit at the same time.

He says: “You make him sick.”

They drag him some place else. No longer talking or joking while they kick until already

broken bones break again, already bleeding skin bleeds even more.

When he’s dying, they are no longer part of his thoughts.

“Daniël.”

The boy is ashen.

What else can he do than lift his arm and, gently, place his hand against his beloved’s cheek?

“How can human beings do this to another human being?” Daniël whispers. He closes his eyes,

his voice soft against Steve’s wrist. “I wasn’t there for you.”

“They weren’t with me during my last moments. You were, my sweet, beautiful boy.”

The recording device clicks off.

Chapter 11

He sleeps through most of the day following the visit of the police and giving his statement. He

knows that because after he wakes up, nurse smiles at him and makes a little joke about him sleeping

like a baby for more than twelve hours.

“Mr Dominguez and Mr Kirkby were here to visit you, but they didn’t want to wake you up.

Would you like a cup of tea? Perhaps you would like me to brush your teeth? A quick wash?” She’s

the chipper nurse who only seems to exists in chick flicks. Steve has seen her before. A good woman,

who combines efficient professionalism with a warm and outgoing personality.

“I appreciate that. Thank you.”

While brushing his teeth, another thing on his list he wants to learn to do for himself again,

like the grown up that he is, the nurse happily babbles on. “Mr Borghart’s gone for a walk. It’s lovely

outside. I hope it keeps that way; I have to do a bit of shopping tomorrow with my friends. I’ve been

invited to the wedding of a colleague, next month. Good excuse for a new dress, don’t you think? Oh,

but you could do with a shave I see. I was thinking about another hairdo. A bit more layered, makes it

looks fuller, my mum says. Here you are, wet cloth to freshen up your face a bit. Get a comb through

your hair so you look your best for your fella. You’re nice and clean now. With a bit of time, you’ll

get to visit the dentist and you’d be surprised what they can do these days. Cologne? Trust me; guys

love it when you smell nice and sexy.” She turns her head towards the door. “Hey, there’s Mr

Borghart, too.”

“Thank you.” He’s looking forward to the day he can take care of his personal hygiene himself,

but he’s able to say thank you and that’s something.

Daniël kisses him. “Hi there, gorgeous. Hello nurse Rich.”

“Good afternoon Mr Borghart.” Her smile warms the whole room. “I’ll leave you gentlemen

alone now.”

When nurse is gone, Daniël sits at Steve’s bed, as close as his chair allows. “You okay?”

“Bring me a mirror, please Dan? I haven’t seen my own face in more than two months.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to wait till a doctor’s here? Or a nurse?”

“Just you and me.”

Daniël gets a shaving mirror, places it in Steve’s hands.

The bruises and swelling are gone, as to be expected after all those weeks. He’s pale, but not in

a healthy, attractive way like Francesco or Niko. He smiles, in the knowledge what he’s going to see.

A big gap at the front.

“Gorgeous? You call me gorgeous?”

“Because that’s what you are. You don’t see what I see, sweetheart. You never did, not even

when we had just fallen in love.”

Steve looks again. It’s still his face: noticeably, but not as bad as it could have been, off

balance as a result of the broken but almost fully healed bones, plus a few scars and in obvious need

for some serious dental work. Practically nothing that time and a good dental surgeon couldn’t deal

with. His eyes have changed though, and that change cannot be undone. Because what they have seen

cannot be undone.

Daniël puts the mirror aside. He takes Steve’s face between his hands with such tenderness it

silences everything inside Steve’s head. Then he kisses him. It’s a soft and gentle kiss, but

unmistakably the kiss of a lover. The tip of Dan’s tongue glides over Steve’s lips, as if he’s shy, like a

young boy asking for his first real kiss.

By allowing Daniël in, he gives himself permission to feel human again. He’s being loved as a

man, not just being comforted as a victim who has gone through unimaginable suffering. He shudders

when he feels how his lover’s tongue touches, explores even, the gap where his teeth are no longer

there, to travel on like the imperfection is just a fact, to tease his palate and the teeth that are still

there, to caress Steve’s tongue with his own.

He’s more passive than he would have been, no longer sure how to react to something that was,

not even that long ago, part of his daily life for six months, before it had been taken away from them

with blinding cruelty. And now Daniël kisses him like he always does: warm and tender, tasting like

coffee with milk and sugar.

It shakes him off balance. But he doesn’t retreat, because he hasn’t got the heart to reject

Daniël. Because somehow this kiss, unexpected for both as it may be, is even more important than

being able to wiggle his toes or move his fingers until they form a fist.

When the boy breaks the kiss, he looks Steve right in the eye and blushes.

“I got carried away a little, I guess.” Daniël uses his thumb to stroke a cheek. “I can’t help

needing to touch you. Kiss you. It’s always there. Always. I never stopped needing you. Needing this.”

Steve doesn’t know what to think, let alone what to say. He understands what Daniël is trying

to say, or perhaps what he’s not trying to say, at least he thinks he does, but guilt has a way of messing

up thoughts, both his and Dan’s, and so he says nothing.

“It’s too much, isn’t it? Did I hurt you?” Daniël is becoming worried about Steve’s silence.

“Of course you didn’t.” Steve smiles reassuringly, even now he knows how his smile looks,

and kisses Daniël for good measure.

“Well, at least we don’t have to be careful and discreet any more,” Daniël says with a lighthearted

note in his voice.

Steve needs a few moments for the words to sink in. “Who exactly knows?” Perhaps disaster

can still be avoided. Perhaps Daniël can save his career at both Kinbridge Town and the Dutch

national team.

Family, the gaffer, team-mates, hospital staff, the police: dozens of people. All of them good

and trustworthy individuals, but also very human and some of them might, without intention, have

given away more than they should.

“Everyone with a TV or internet access, I guess.” Daniël shrugs like his words are of no

consequence.

Steve has no illusions about his own future, but did they put Daniël and him together? He had

always assumed Degaré had found some plausible excuse for why Daniël had been missing from both

training and matches for such a long time when he had left his most recent match in perfect health.

Naïve perhaps, after so many weeks, but it’s not the first time a player disappears for weeks, even

months, with some semi-transparent declaration about a persistent injury. “I don’t understand.

Someone talked to the press? They sold us out? That must have been a nice sum, too.”

“I gave us away. For free.”

“I still don’t understand what you’re trying to say. They were waiting for you, the paparazzi

and TV crews, when you went for a bit of fresh air? With the boys and the gaffer coming in and out

every day, there must have been a few of them at least. Perhaps they saw you stepping outside for a

few moments but never really leaving.” Steve feels how panic digs a hole in his stomach.“I wouldn’t

have blamed you for denying there’s anything more between us than friendship. Perhaps you’re in the

hospital for your own reasons. You should have told them that. We all tell the press the odd white lies,

you know that just as well as I do.”

“I’m not telling lies about you. About us. And keeping my mouth shut is lying too.” Daniël

sounds indignant, like Steve said something that really bothers him. “After this? No more.”

His lover’s almost-anger, though not directed at him, makes it hard for Steve to formulate his

thoughts. They had never talked about it in detail. What was there to talk about? The stark contrast

between their behaviour in public and in the privacy of either of their homes had been accepted by

both of them as simply how things were. It had been a choice, just like anything else, but that didn’t

mean it had been a conscious one, taken after long and heart-breaking talks. No other couple in

professional football had done it before them and they weren’t going to be one of the first.

“They knew where you had been found. The police and the hospital knew, and of course the

press. No idea how, but they did. Almost immediately the rumours started on the internet, the

accusations, then the filth spread around so fast there was no way of keeping track of it. It was ugly.

“I had no idea why you had been in that park that night and I didn’t care. I just wanted all of

them to keep their filthy paws off my man. I trusted you would tell me what had happened as soon as

you’d be able to. And you did.

“I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer. I told the gaffer and the skipper what I was about

to do. Told Degaré I assumed he would inform the owners of the club. Seemed like the decent thing,

inform them about my plan. Not to ask permission. No one in this world could have shut me up for

any reason. No threats and no pleas. I would accepted it if they had wanted to get rid of me.”

Daniël beams. “They both sat right next to me when I gave the press conference. I’m happy to

say: with the full support of Mr and Mrs Goldman.”

Then, finally, he stops talking and looks at Steve with concern in his eyes. “Lieverd? Is

something the matter, sweetheart?”

Words tumble through Steve’s head and he isn’t able to even catch one of them. He tries to

understand what Daniël has just said, to understand the meaning and implications, but all he can do is

stare blankly at the boy, who’s looking more miserable with every passing second.

Why didn’t he save himself? That’s how it’s always done, when a player did something

unbelievably stupid and the press got hold of it: ignore it, fend off any questions with the same old “no

comment” and let the storm pass. Within days, weeks if it’s very spectacular, the bloodhounds have

found another victim. And always be careful with doing vanity searches on the internet because you

will find things you might not want to know.

“Is it still on the net? The press conference, that is,” he finally asks, knowing very well nothing

fully disappears once it’s been uploaded.

“Of course, it’s been one of the most downloaded vids for a while. It kept spreading and

spreading.” Daniël gets his laptop. “I have it on my hard drive anyway. Is it uncomfortable if I rest it

on your lap?”

“No problem.”

“You never complain, but I know you still hurt.” Daniël places a pillow on Steve’s lap, the

laptop on top of that and opens it. “Comfortable?”

Steve smiles.

Daniël moves to open the document, but Steve stops him. “I do love you.”

Dan kisses him. “That’s what I told them. Just watch.”

The first time Steve sees the footage all that registers is Daniël’s face. All the expressions,

from sad to smiling, from angry to proud: he’s so mesmerised by it, that almost nothing of the

questions and answers reaches his ears. There’s so much pain in that lovely face, such deep sorrow,

that it twists his insides into a dozen knots. Such pale face, lines written by fatigue and shock layered

over unmistakable youth. How can anyone so achingly young carry this heavy burden? But there’s also

love and pride and hope in rich abundance.

“I wasn’t there for you,” is the first thing he says when the video reaches the end.

“You were fighting for your life. And believe me, you were there.” Daniël touches Steve’s arm

because he understands that Steve needs to be touched.“Watch it again?”

This time, he concentrates on what’s being said. Perhaps he doesn’t get every single word, but

it’s enough to understand that any remaining hope of life going back to normal for Daniël has proven

to be a grand illusion.

There is a sad smile on Daniël’s face. “I want to end all the speculation about Steve Gavan and

me. There are a lot of lies spreading around, but this part is true: we are in a relationship and have

been for the past six months.”

He sees how pale Daniël gets when he says, “Steve’s in a coma at the moment. I understand he

is kept under heavy sedation to make sure he moves as little as possible to give his body a chance to

heal. Against the pain. But the doctors are able to tell you more about that later...the men who did

this? You have to ask the police. I’m sorry.”

Arnaud Degaré saying a few words. “The club won’t make any decisions concerning either

Steve or Daniël until a more appropriate moment. Of course, Daniël will be given full opportunity to

be with his partner as long as he needs to be. Even if it would mean he won’t be available for any

match during the rest of the season. Of course, they will get their payment in full. Both of them, yes.

They are part of this team, let there be no mistake about that. Kinbridge Town is a club that takes care

of its people. With full blessing of the owners, I might add. I have visited Steve, yes. I am deeply

shocked. This is not the Kinbridge I have come to know and appreciate.”

He sees Daniël whispering to Matthew before the captain gives answer to the question of what

he thinks of recent events. “It’s simple, really. I see no excuse for anyone to go around and beat one of

my team to a bloody pulp...No, I didn’t know about them. It had been their decision to keep their

privacy. Would it have made a difference? That’s private, too. I’d just like to say that all the lads are

behind them one hundred per cent. We got word from other teams, managers and players, too. Both

national and international. The message is clear: this isn’t what football is about. I know the fans, the

true fans, will be right behind us during the coming match against Manchester City. We need your

support now more than ever at Chestnut Road.”

Daniël is now frowning. “I have no idea why he was in that park at that moment. He’s a grown

man; he can walk wherever he pleases, whenever he pleases. I trust he will tell me everything. Why?

Because he loves me. Believe me, I know. How do I know? How do you show your wife – you do have

a wife? Or a boyfriend? – you love her? I don’t like your insinuations. As I said, I can imagine him

being lost, not paying attention to where he was going. Just because you walk in a park, does that

mean you know what some men are using that same park for? It’s not like they have road signs for

such places.”

His lips are one tight line while he listens to the next question. “It’s not about a professional

footy player being caught in a gay cruising area with his pants down, it’s about a human being brutally

beaten and left for dead. Ik ben er zeker van die hij niets verkeerds deed... I’m sorry, I mean to say I

know he did nothing wrong.”

Daniël’s smiling. “We just fell in love. It happens, you know. We were quiet about it, but that

doesn’t mean our relationship was any less serious. I hoped Steve and I would be able to share our

lives after his retirement from football. I still do.”

His eyes are now wide in anger. “I don’t speak for any organisation or movement or anything. I

didn’t want to come out to the wider public, at least not as long as we were both playing as

professionals. This isn’t about politics. I don’t care what other people would do. I respect their

choices, but that’s all. I’m here because I won’t accept that the man I love is getting dragged through

the mud while fighting for his life. I defend him because he can’t.”

Followed by quiet sadness. “Waarom zou iemand zo’n schat van een man überhaupt iets willen

aandoen? I mean, why would anyone want to hurt him? He’s such a sweetheart of a man. He has never

said one wrong word to any of his fans. What reason could they have had?”

Cocking his head. “What I plan on doing now? Stay with him until he wakes up. Stay with him

after he wakes up. That’s what I wanted a week ago. That’s what I still intend to do. Ik heb mijn besluit

genomen. Yes, I made my decision.”

Daniël takes the laptop and puts it aside. Then he sits on the chair next to Steve’s bed. Neither

of them says anything while Daniël takes his lover’s hands in his own and kisses them with slow

tenderness.

Chapter 12

The police officers return with questions, which he answers to the best of his abilities. They

tell him there have been several arrests. They show him photos. He looks at them, and remembers the

nipper with the shirt and the school team and the poster that, he’s certain, will no longer be above his

bed. He remembers the derisive laughter as if he said something funny by stating in a civil manner

that he wanted to continue his walk. He remembers the voices, the heavy breathing brought about by

performing a physically demanding job that asked as much of them as playing the full 90 minutes did

of him when he was still competition fit.

He had tried to make a habit out of looking at his fans’ faces, even if just for a split second;

perhaps as a reminder of their individuality beyond the chants and waving mass of black and red shirts

and flags, of their need to be noticed for what they are. He remembers the men in the park because he

had looked at them. Not one of them a monster. Just plain English working-class faces, reminding him

of the streets of his youth. The faces of the dads and uncles of his friends, of neighbours. The faces he