Red or Dead

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Book: Red or Dead by David Peace Read Free Book Online
Authors: David Peace
Tags: Fiction, General
can’t afford not to. We didn’t get Clough. Sunderland got Clough. We can’t let that happen again, Mr Williams. We have to get St John. And we can. We can. I know we can. Because he wants to leave. He wants to go. And he wants to come to England. The boy wants to play his football in England. But Motherwell are no fools. They know what they have. They know what he’s worth. So they’ll have told other clubs. Other directors. And so they’ll be in their cars. They’ll be on their way. So we have to hurry. We have to be quick. Because we have to get Ian St John. We have to buy the boy. We cannot afford
not
to buy him!
    Mr Williams nodded. And Mr Reakes stepped on it.
    On the road back to England, in the Rolls-Royce. Bill sat between Ian St John and his wife. On the back seat. Bill was smiling and Bill was talking. Ten to the dozen. One hundred miles an hour. Bill said, Just think of all the goals you’ll score, son. We’ll be promoted in no time. In no time at all, son. With the goals you will score. We’ll be Second Division Champions, son. First Division Champions. We’ll win the FA Cup, son. We’ll play in Europe. We’ll win the European Cup, son. We will win the bloody lot. With the goals you will score, son. We will be the greatest team in England. Thegreatest team in Europe, son. With the goals you will score. I promise you we will, son. Because I know we bloody will!
    …
    In the house, in their front room. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill closed his book. His book of names, his book of notes. And Bill closed his eyes. Liverpool Football Club had paid thirty-seven thousand, five hundred pounds for Ian St John. A club record. Plus one thousand pounds, in cash, under the table to Ian St John. A week later, Liverpool Football Club had gone to Goodison Park to play Everton Football Club in the Liverpool Senior Cup. Liverpool Football Club had lost four–three. But Ian St John had scored all three Liverpool goals. On his debut, a hat-trick. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill opened his eyes again, Bill opened his book again. His book of names, his book of notes. Bill turned the pages. The pages of names, the pages of notes. Ticks and crosses. Bill had got Ian St John. And Bill had moved on Bobby Campbell, Alan Arnell and James Harrower. Then Bill had moved on Alan Banks, John Nicholson and Dave Hickson. And Billy Liddell had had his testimonial. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill stared down at the pages. The pages of names, the pages of notes. All the ticks and all the crosses. But in the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill was not satisfied. Too many crosses and not enough ticks. And no sense of satisfaction. There never was, never could be. Bill did not believe in satisfaction. That was another word Bill thought should be cut out of the dictionary. Satisfaction. Another word that should be struck from the English language. Banished and forgotten. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill could not forget Yeats. Ron Yeats and Ian St John. Their names were forged together in Bill’s mind. Forged together since that night Bill and Eddie Boot had watched the Scotland national team play that Scottish Second Division select. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill might have got Ian St John. But still Bill wanted Ron Yeats. What a player he was. What a man he was. Six foot three. A giant. A colossus. Not a man you forgot. In the night and in the silence. In his chair. Bill closed his book. His book of names, his book of notes. Bill picked up his address book from the arm of the chair. And Bill got up from his chair. Bill went out into the hall. Bill picked up the telephone. Bill dialled a number. And Bill said, Hello,Jerry? It’s Bill Shankly. How are you, Jerry? How’s Dundee United?
    I’m fine, said Jerry Kerr. Well, I
was
fine. How are you, Bill?
    Bill said, I’m fine, too, Jerry. Very fine. Thank you very much.
    Good, said

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