Free Stranger on a Train by Jenny Diski

trip. I was in South Carolina for a funeral. I figured I’d take the train back to give myself time to recover.’ Her mouth turned hard as she spoke. ‘I guess one of the reasons I was so upset by that bus ride was because of what happened.’
    Bet had a brother who lived in a small town in South Carolina. When he was young, he’d thought about becoming a monk, but Bet said that wouldn’t have worked out. He was too keen on girls. Either in spite of or because of that, he had never married. He was in his late fifties and owned the town hardware store. He lived alone. ‘Drank some,’ Bet said. ‘But he minded his own business and ran the store.’ He sounded like a sad, ageing and lonely man. One night, a week or so before, he’d closed the shop, had a drink in a bar, and was walking home on his own, when he was shot several times in the back by three kids.
    â€˜Black,’ she said in a stage whisper, after a quick glance at the nearby tables. ‘The youngest was thirteen. When the police picked them up they said they had nothing special against him, they just wanted to know what it felt like to kill someone. They didn’t even know him. He wasn’t anyone to them. They wanted to kill someone and it happened to be my brother. They killed a perfect stranger for kicks. My brother. We weren’t that close, but he was my baby brother. I buried him two days ago. Oh, it makes me so mad. What are kids like now? What the hell’s going on in this country?’
    The nightmare of America, although still somewhere else, was closer to Bet than I had imagined. Troy looked aghast.
    â€˜My god, you read about these things, but…’ The house from Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, which he’d stared at with such fascination, was as close as he had come to the nightmare. Now he was right here, almost at the centre of the drama, he could reach out and touch it, and it wasn’t just a story set in the past. ‘Oh my god…’
    He actually paled at the idea of his proximity to tragedy. Bet shrugged and drank down her beer. Her hand shook as she lit another cigarette.
    â€˜I want to forget it. But that bus ride … it got to me again…’
    It didn’t seem appropriate to point out that three black killers in a small town in South Carolina had nothing to do with a busload of people going about their business in Jacksonville. It didn’t even seem decent.
    â€˜I’m going to look round the shops,’ Troy said.
    â€˜You want to shop?’ Bet asked me.
    â€˜Not really.’
    We sat on while Troy went back into the mall.
    â€˜You think he’s … you know?’
    â€˜Gay? Certainly. Sounds like it’s difficult being gay where he comes from.’
    â€˜Jesus, small towns. I bet his father doesn’t know. This’ll be the first time he’s been open about it even to himself. I don’t have anything against them. So long as they keep it among themselves. Well, good for him for getting out. He’s such a scared little kid. It must have been a real effort.’
    Troy came back and reported on the shops. There wasn’t much, but he’d got talking to a guy at the ice-cream stand. Adventure was coming thick and fast. He thought maybe he’d go back and talk some more. He checked his watch nervously.
    â€˜You won’t leave till agreed. Without me?’
    â€˜Absolutely not.’
    â€˜We’ll come and drag you away, kiddo.’
    Troy beamed happily and returned to the mall.
    â€˜Ah,’ crooned Bet. ‘I feel just like his mother watching him go on his first date.’
    There were hours still to kill. Bet and I walked down to the riverside.
    â€˜What’s the river?’ I asked.
    â€˜The Jacksonville,’ she told me, as we watched the boats ply up and down. It was wide and flat, a busy river with new developments on both banks. The water was a weird