Authors: Frederic Lindsay
Too
quickly
for
Murray
to
protect
his
head,
the
bucket
swung away
into
the
distance
and
rushed
back.
–
You don't know what guilt is. You're just an amateur at guilt, Eddy.
Lights
flashed
from
the
bucket's
polished
sides.
It
filled
the
world
.
13 What the World Is
WEDNESDAY,
SEPTEMBER
12
TH
1988
The
stripper
was
no
girl,
maybe
even
over
thirty,
but
her
legs
were
long
and
well-shaped
and
her
breasts
looked
firm
under
the
leather
gear
that
still
covered
them
since
she
was
only
into
the
opening
bars
of
her
number.
She
strutted
from
one
side
of
the
small
platform
to
the
other,
it
was
almost
prancing, it
was
almost
a
march.
Wherever
she
was
going,
she
was
in
a
hurry
to
get
there.
She
gazed
above
the
head
of
the
audience
and
with
one
hand
shook
the
chain
that
ran
from
under
her
armpit
to
where
it
was
clipped
at
the
top
of
her
thigh.
She
spread
her
fingers
and
vibrated
them
over
her
crotch,
then
marched
to
the
brisk
music
of
her
tape
back
across
the
platform;
leant
back
and
sticking
the
dog
whip
through
her
legs
from
behind
waggled
it
up
and
down
more
or
less
on
the
drum
beat.
For
the
first
time
she
looked
down
at
them,
glancing
about
as
if
to
catch
someone's
eye.
'That
SM
stuff,'
Billy
Shanks
said,
gathering
a
mouthful
of
mashed
potato
on
to
his
fork,
'it
seems
a
bit
heavy
for
a
working
men's
club
at
lunchtime.'
'Poor
buggers.'
Eddy
Stewart
looked
round
at
the
roomful
of
men.
A
blue
haze
of
smoke
drifted
over
the
tables.
'A
lot
of
them
are
having
to
nurse
their
beer
because
they
don't
have
a
wage
packet.
You
and
me
are
the
working
men
here.'
'Still,'
Billy
said,
not
to
be
deflected,
'last
time
you
dragged
me
to
this
place,
it
was
the
schoolgirl
routine,
a
wee
performer squatting
on
her
hockey
stick.
I
didn't
like
it,
but
I
could
see
why
they
would.
But
this
high
heels
and
a
whip
stuff
–’
'You're
a
snob,'
Stewart
said.
'Some
of
these
guys
have
been
round
the
world
–
and
the
rest
have
seen
the
videos.'
The
stripper
bent
over
and
showed
them
her
behind.
Billy
sighed.
'How
is
Murray?'
he
asked.
'He
could
do
with
someone
to
visit
him.
He's
depressed.'
'With
Murray,
how
could
you
tell?'
Stewart
laughed.
'He
wasn't
his
usual
cheery
self.'
'It's
a
phobia –
I
can't
bear
to
go
and
see
somebody
I
know
in
hospital.
I
can
go
as
part
of
the
job,
but
not
privately
.
I
mean,
if
it's
for
the
column,
fine.
I
used
to
know
a
bus
conductor
like
that
–
every
time
he
got
into
a
car
he
was
travel
sick.'
'So
make
it
official.'
Stewart
chewed
with
relish
.
He
always enjoyed
a
lunch
that
came
on
Billy
Shanks'
expense
account.
'Do
your
boy
reporter
bit
and
ask
him
what
happened
.
Even
if
he
doesn't
cough
why,
he'll
be
glad
to
see
you.'
'With
Murray,'
Billy
repeated
himself
gloomily,
'how
can
you
tell?'
'You
can
tell.'
'I
don't
know
...
'
Billy
swung
an
arm
in
a
gesture
furtive
on
his
own
wild
scale.
'He's
depressed?'
'They
think
he
might
lose
an
eye.'
'What?'
With
Billy
shock
had
the
unexpected
effect
of
making
him
go very
still.
'That
was
early
on
Sunday
when
I
went
in.
But
they
couldn't
find
the
eye
at
that
point – it's
all
gone
to
pulp.
The
doctor
I
spoke
to
wasn't
happy
about
the
way
it
looked.
If
he
gets
away
with
it,
he'll
have
potted
the
darky
in
a
black
ball
final.'
'Ah,
for
God's
sake,'
Billy
groaned.
'If
it
has
to
depend
on
his luck!'
The
big
policeman
forked
food
in
and
said
broodingly
but
not
very
distinctly,
'What's
so
different
about
Murray?
Most
of
us
have
lousy
luck.'
Billy,
with
the
intuition
of
someone
who
had
been
born
up
the next
close;
played
in
the
same
streets
when
school
was
something the
big
ones
went
to;
was
even
in
some
second-cousin-twice
removed
kind
of
way
related
to
Stewart;
said
with
only
apparent
irrelevance,
'I
always
envied
you
getting
Lynda.
She
was
your
luck,
Eddy.
If
she'd
had
better
taste,
she'd
have
married
me.'
Like
many
men
born
to
be
bachelors,
he
had
the
notion
that
his
state
was
due
to
some
perfect
girl
whom
he
had
been
denied
and
who
made
any
other
woman
second
best.
Quite
often
for
him,
when
he
thought
of
her,
Lynda
filled
this
romantic
niche.