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That impact had deflected the van straight towards us. John wrapped an arm around me and the black woman and threw us to the far side of the crossing. We were caught by a group of people who had just reached the side of the road.John took the full impact of the van and was sent flying. His body hit the back of a parked van with a heavy thud. I turned and rushed towards him as everything around me seemed to have switched to slow motion. He opened his eyes to look straight into mine. He held out a bloodied hand. I held it.“I love you, Alice,” he said.“I love you, John,” I replied.His eyes glazed over. I could hear him humming the chorus of ‘We’ll gather Lilacs’. A few seconds later the humming stopped and his hand went limp. I finished the hummed chorus at the end of the third line:“We'll gather lilacs in the spring againAnd walk together down an English laneUntil our hearts have learned to sing again...”John had died as he had lived. A hero. My hero.+++At the inquest the multiple CCTV. The eighties were about to end, and I wanted my best friends with me to see it through. Faith was there stroking Bill. Momma was there chatting up Consuela while Denny was feeling her up. Mrs Parsons was kneeling before George sucking him while he chatted to Marcus. Chet just wandered around fully dressed sporting a huge erection in his pants and smiling and laughing with William over some hysterical sports incident in the news. That left Hope and Beeder. Where the fuck were they? I grabbed a robe hanging from a hook near the back patio and went to check the pool and hot tub. Nobody there but Jerome. It was surprise seeing the dimwitted donkey dick there, but apparently he got a late invite from Faith, and decided to soak in a hottub having never been in one before. No sign of Hope. I peeked in Consuela and Pedros bunkhouse, just him alone drinking beer and watching Dick Clark. No sign of Hope. Not in the garage, the dining room, the study, the kitchen, the bedrooms, dining room,.
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