David Peace - Red or Dead

But Bill had never spoken at a golf club before, after one of their dinners. And so Bill did not know what he should say, what he should speak about. And every day. In the house, in their front room. Bill sat at his writing desk. Writing things down. Things he could say. Crossing things out. Things he couldn’t say. Every day. Writing things down, crossing things out. Every night. Typing up his notes. His pages and pages of notes. Every day. Tearing up his notes. His pages and pages of notes. Every day. Starting again, stopping again. Writing things down, crossing things out. Every day until the morning of the day. The morning of the day Bill was due to speak at the Eastham Lodge Golf Club. His sweater stuck to his shirt. His shirt stuck to his vest. His vest stuck to his skin. Bill walked into the hall. Bill picked up the telephone. Bill called George Higham. And Bill said, George, George? I’m sorry, George, I’m very sorry, George. But I cannot come. I cannot speak. I’m not feeling too good. I’m not feeling myself.

Oh no, said George Higham. Oh no, Bill. Don’t say that, please don’t say that. Our members are very much looking forward to you coming, very excited about hearing you speak, Bill. They will be so disappointed, so very, very disappointed. Is there no way you can come, Bill? Are you feeling that bad, Bill?

Bill felt bad now. Very bad now. And Bill said, But I don’t like golf, George. It’s not my game. Football is my game. And so I wouldn’t know what to say …

But no one is expecting you to talk about golf, said George Higham. People just want to hear your stories, Bill. Your stories about football, your stories about life. You are a great talker, Bill. A great speaker. And so they just want to hear you speak, Bill. About whatever you want. It’s very relaxed. People have their dinner, they have a drink. And then they just want to hear you, Bill. Listen to you speak.

Bill felt worse now. Even worse now. And Bill said, But I just don’t like golf clubs. They are not my kind of people, you see. And I’m not good at posh dos. They are not my kind of places, you understand? It’s not me, George. It’s just not for me …

But our club is not like that, said George Higham. Not like you imagine, Bill. Our members are from Liverpool, they are Liverpool people. They are looking forward to you coming, excited to be hearing you speak, Bill. They will be very disappointed if you do not come. They’ll be very sad if you do not speak, Bill …

Bill felt terrible. Bloody terrible. And so Bill said, All right then, George. All right. I’ll come, George. I’ll come and I’ll speak.

His sweater still stuck to his shirt. His shirt still stuck to his vest. His vest still stuck to his skin. Bill put down the telephone. Bill walked up the stairs. In the bathroom. Bill took off his sweater. Bill took off his shirt. Bill took off his vest. And Bill had a wash. A good wash. And then Bill went into the bedroom. Bill changed his trousers. Bill put on his shirt. His best white shirt. Bill put on his bow tie. His black bow tie. Bill put on his dinner jacket. His black dinner jacket. In the house, in their bedroom. Bill stood before the mirror on the back of the wardrobe door. Bill looked at the man in the mirror. In his dinner jacket. His black dinner jacket. His bow tie. His black bow tie. And Bill said, Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And thank you, ladies and gentlemen. For inviting me to your club tonight. I, I, I …

In the bedroom. Before the mirror on the back of the wardrobe door. Bill stared at the man in the mirror. His shirt stuck to his vest. Again. His vest stuck to his skin. His bow tie. His black bow tie tight around his neck. Choking him, strangling him. And again Bill said, Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And thank you, ladies and gentlemen. For inviting me to your club tonight. I, I …

Bill turned away from the mirror on the back of the wardrobe door. The man in the mirror. Bill closed the wardrobe door. Bill walked out of the bedroom. Bill walked back down the stairs. Bill went back into the front room. Bill went back to the writing desk. Bill bent down. Down under the writing desk. Bill pulled out the wastepaper basket from under the writing desk. And Bill took out all his screwed-up pages of notes. His pages and pages of notes. Bill straightened out all his screwed-up pages of notes. His pages and pages of notes. Bill picked out all his torn-up pages of notes. His pages and pages of notes. Bill stuck back together all his pages of notes. His pages and pages of notes. And then Bill took his pages and pages of straightened-out and stuck-back notes over to the chair. Bill sat down in his chair. And Bill began to read through all his pages of notes. His pages and pages of notes. And then Bill began to read out his speech from his pages of notes. His pages and pages of notes. And Bill swallowed. And Bill coughed. And then Bill said, Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And thank you, ladies and gentlemen. For inviting me to your club tonight. I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I …

In the dining room of the Eastham Lodge Golf Club. On the little stage at the front of the dining room. Behind the lectern, on the little stage. Before the members of the Eastham Lodge Golf Club, behind the lectern. In his dinner jacket. His black dinner jacket. His bow tie. His black bow tie. Bill looked down at his notes. His pages and pages of notes. Bill swallowed again. Bill coughed again. And then Bill said, Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And thank you, ladies and gentlemen. For inviting me to your club tonight. I, I, I …

But in his dinner jacket. His black dinner jacket. His bow tie. His black bow tie. Bill stared down at his notes. His pages and pages of notes. And Bill could not read his notes. His pages and pages of notes. Bill could not read his own writing. His pages and pages of writing. And Bill swallowed again. Bill coughed again. And Bill looked up. Up and out. Up at the dining room of the Eastham Lodge Golf Club, out at the members of the Eastham Lodge Golf Club. And Bill put down his notes. His pages and pages of notes –

And Bill said, I have to confess a few things. A few things about golf and a few things about me. Because you see, golf is not my game. Golf is not for me. In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever been anywhere near a golf club. But I’ve spoken to golf clubs. On the telephone. Many times. In fact, I think I must have called every golf club on Merseyside at one time or another. Because you see, I used to call them and tell them, You better not have any of my players. My Liverpool players. Up at your club, out on your course. Because you see, I never approved of my players playing anything but the game through which they earned their living. Because in my opinion, for a professional footballer, golf is a menace. Nothing but a bloody menace. Oh yes. You see, in my opinion, golf can put unnatural stress on the body of a footballer. Stress in places where they wouldn’t normally have stress. If they didn’t play golf. And when a player has these kinds of stresses. When they play golf. Then that is when a player gets injured. That’s why they get injured. Oh yes. So that is why I never approved of them playing golf. And so I banned the players from playing golf. I banned them all. But they were a crafty lot. Very cunning, my players. Because that’s the kind of men I like. Crafty and cunning men. But on the pitch, you understand? The football pitch. Not on the golf course. But I knew then, you see. I knew then they would be sneaking about, sneaking into golf clubs, sneaking in a quick game of golf when they thought I wouldn’t be looking. When they thought I wouldn’t know. But I was always looking. I always had my eyes on them. Oh yes. And so I always knew. And I remember one time, I had my suspicions about Tommy Lawrence and about Roger Hunt. Something about the way they were walking, the way they were whispering to each other. The kind of clothes they were wearing, the kind of shoes they were buying. These were not the clothes of a footballer, the shoes a footballer would wear. Oh no. I knew what they were about, what they were up to. They were sneaking about, sneaking off to golf clubs, sneaking off for a quick game. And so I remember, I called one golf club. The club I thought they were going to. And I called this club, and I said to their secretary, Have you got my boys there? And he said, No, no, Mr Shankly. But I could tell from the answer, the way the secretary answered. I could tell that Tommy Lawrence and Roger Hunt had warned the club, had warned the secretary that I might be calling, that I might be asking after them. Can you imagine? That is how crafty they were, how cunning they were. But you see, I could tell from the voice, the voice of the secretary. I could tell they were there. And I could tell they had warned him I would call. And so I knew they had told him to lie. Because I could tell by his voice that he was lying. He was lying to me. And so I told him, I said, I know you are lying to me. I know they are there. And so I’m coming over now. In my car. With my boys. With Bob, and with Joe, and with Reuben. In the car. And when we have finished with them. Then it’ll be your turn. And now the man was shaking, his voice was shaking. And he said, Please don’t, Mr Shankly. Please don’t come, Mr Shankly. They are here, they are here. And so I told him, I said, Then you tell them from me to go home. To get themselves home. Or I’ll be coming to your club with my club. My bloody club!