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Authors: Martyn Waites

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Tony had been invited to attend Tommy's funeral. Louise had insisted he decline.

Karl was in hospital in a coma. Louise had attempted to be concerned over his condition but she couldn't manage it. She felt nothing but angry relief.

It was wonderful to be free of Keith, not to have her ideas, her thoughts constantly undermined. She was sad about Ben, though. She had given him the choice and he had opted to stay with his father. She had accepted it and hoped that he would come to understand her actions in time.

Keith wasn't fighting her demands for a divorce. She would get a very generous settlement too. He knew how much he had to lose.

She was pleased Suzanne was with her. They were trying with each other. It wasn't easy, but they would get there. Because they both wanted to.

And Tony. They would make it. They had survived this far.

She looked out at Coldwell.

One drinker sitting on the wall outside the public toilets. Smiling to himself.

She smiled. Even he matched her mood.

She looked back at Tony.

They would make it.

Mick, feeling the satisfying clink from within his carrier bag, sat down on the low wall outside the public toilets in Coldwell's main square. He opened his first can of Carlsberg Special, tingled at the anticipatory pop of the ring pull, put it to his lips and drank it down.

Lovely. This first one of the morning was always the best.

He was alone. His friends would be joining him soon. He was looking forward to it. He had finally found a place he felt comfortable in, people whose company he liked. They didn't judge, they didn't ask anything of him. He asked nothing of them in return.

It was somewhere he could go to forget, to be himself.

He glanced up at the windows of the CAT Centre. Felt a pang of guilt. Tony had tried to help. He really had. But it was too difficult. This, on the other hand, was so much easier.

And much more comforting.

There was a face at Tony's window. A woman's face. Mick didn't know who she was but she was smiling. He smiled back.

Mick looked around the square. The day was slowly coming to life.

Getting going.

He took another drink.

Lovely.

Worry flitted across his mind: what would happen when the cans ran out? He told himself to calm down. He would deal with that when it happened. For now, he had what he wanted.

He took another drink.

Waited.

Acknowledgements

As the great Norman Lovett once said, No man is an island except when he's in the bath, so with that in mind I have to thank some people for their help with this book. Judith Atkinson of NECA, Hazel Waites, Deb Howe and Alison Taylor for the research assists. Stieve Butler and Dirk Robertson for putting up with my whingeing. David Shelley for your consideration. My agent Caroline Montgomery and my new editor Kate Lyall Grant for knowing when to crack the whip and when to tell me I'm wonderful. And, of course, my wife Linda. For all of the above.

Some publications which were useful:
The Great Strike
by Alex Callinicos and Mike Simons,
Dancing in Mid-Air – People and Drugs in Blyth
edited by Barry Stone,
The Social Impact of Pit Closure
by Dave Waddington, Bella Dicks and Chas Critcher,
Undermined – Oral Testimonies of the Miners' Strike
by Members of South Yorkshire's Mining Communities,
Convicted at Birth
by Jennifer Wynn, and Nick Davies's excellent documentary
Drugs – the Phoney War
plus his accompanying articles.

The town of Coldwell isn't a real place, but that's not to say it doesn't actually exist. As for places that do exist – as usual, I've played fast and loose with them. This is a work of fiction, remember. This is my version of the world. The Ashington Group of Painters also existed. Their work is on display at the Woodhorn Colliery Museum in Ashington, Northumberland.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

copyright © 2003 by Martyn Waites

cover design by Katherine Lynch

This edition published in 2011 by
MysteriousPress.com
/Open Road Integrated Media

180 Varick Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com

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BOOK: Born Under Punches
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ads

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