Dialogues of the Dead

dick: And this place ... geoff: I've thought a lot about that. Conclusion - it's not really a place, it's more a sort of state. Not like Mississippi... except insofar as it's got this bloody great river . .. but like I just said, it's not a real river either . . . more a sort of visible metaphor ... hark at me, talking like a critic!... hut you know what I mean .. . it helps our minds keep a bold on things . .. rather like you seeing dying as a tunnel... it's all a bit hard to grasp at first... dick: Butyouseem to have grasped it better than anyone, Geoff. Why's that? geoff: Born to it, I suppose. dick: You mean, because you've got a title? geoff: Good lord, no. Load of bollocks, all that stuff. It's just that, well, I'm connected, you know. Sort of divinely.

dick: You mean you're God? geoff: Of course not. Don't say things like that. Got one of my ancestors into a lot of bother way back. No, but I am family, so to speak. Sort of

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fourth cousin, x times removed. It's the fallen angels, you see. Some of them got the option of turning human rather than spending an eternity in hell. Hard choice to make, I should think. Back on earth, the connection's not much help, but down here, it seems to give us descendants a bit of an inside track on things. Not that I know much more than here we are and here we'll stay till we're all here, then we'll go across.

dick: Who's all? And where'1 s across? And bow long do we have ftfi: wait? ,;; geoff; Forget how long, old boy. No time here. Time's away and^ somewhere else. Don't know where that came from, must have beeffi^ something I learned at school, but it's true. As for all, I mean all thosV"^ that the Wordman kills. ;/'

dick: The Wordman ... but aren't I the Wordman? ,' ' geoff: You? My dear Dick! What on earth put that notion in yowr^ head? ';

dick: / don't know... just something... I feel responsible somehow ... ' geoff: And that's why you're apologizing left and right! My dean'' chap, rest easy. You couldn 't hurt a fly. I recall the first time I gave'1^ you a pair of trout and you realized you had to clean them out yourself^; You turned white! No, you 're like the rest of us, a victim here. Look,, [ at you, all chopped about like a baited badger. Councillor, you tell him. stuffer steel: Tell him what? " " geoff: The dear chap thinks he's the Wordman. :

stuffer: So he is. All them buggers as work in yon poncy Centre, all;: sodding wordmen, never done an honest day's work between 'em. :; geoff: May have got something there. Councillor. But I mean Word- „ man with a capital W, the one who's been doing all these killings. y

stuffer: Oh, yon bugger. No, Mr Dee, you may be a lot of things, ; most on 'em useless, but you're definitely not that Wordman, not if'^ that's the bugger who killed me. dick: Thank God, thank God. But if it's not me, then who is it? Who was it who killed you. Councillor? stuffer: You really don't know? Aye well, fair do's. Took me some time to twig even after I got here. I mean, you 're standing there washing your hands in a gent's bog and you look up and see a bonny young lass in the mirror, you don't think straight off, she's come to top me!

dick: A young lass... oh my God... stuffer: Coming back, is it now? Aye, well, I looked at her and she looked at me, this big reassuring smile on her face. And I said what the hell are you doing in here, lass? And she said, I just wanted to tell you I've got that dinner you asked for sorted. You know, rib beef and Yorkshire pudding and lots and lots of roast spuds. And I thought, well that sounds all right. Then 1 felt summat at the back of me neck and next thing I'm on the floor and it's all getting dark. Then there was this young fellow-me-lad bending over me and asking if I were all right and I knew I weren 't all right, I knew I were on my way out, and I'd no idea why, that's what bothered me.

dick: And you said rosebud to him. Why did you say rosebud^ stuffer: Don't recollect saying owt, but if I did, I know it bloody weren't rosebud! No, it W be roast spuds! You see, what I couldn 't get my head round was why she'd been going on about me dinner. But I've worked it out since. She wanted me to die happy. Aye, that must have been it. She didn 't want me to die thinking, "Oh Christ, there's someone here going to kill me." She wanted me to go thinking I was about to get me dinner. Not much bloody hope of that down here, far as I can see, but it was a kindness, aye, I'll give her that. It was kindly meant.