Keep your hair on, boy! Esther exclaims. This Don Hansard we talkin about
Holy fuck, Esther!
Ransom grabs a towel from the nearby rail and pushes his face into it, horrified.
Esther sucks her tongue, bored. You went to Q School with Don Hansard, she sighs, you bail him out in Finland over that dodgy score-card. He live in your house in Holland Park, rent-free, for eighteen month after he split from Shirley. That man owe you, Stu
Shes interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. She inspects her watch. Thatll be Toby. He schedule in for ten.
Ransoms head remains sunk in the towel. His hands are shaking.
An we not even get to look at the itinerary, she grumbles, observing the hands with a somewhat jaundiced eye. You want him come back in the morning? You got Terence Nimrod at nine
Ransom makes no effort to respond.
We aint got nobody for the bag, she persists. The course got three caddie, but they all book up an I sure as hell not humpin that thing around again
She places an anxious hand on her stomach. I hear James Ray twiddlin his thumb in Dublin while Tim Pagel recovering from back surgery
Still nothing from Ransom.
Look, me not wanna freak you out, Stu, she murmurs, her tone suddenly gentle, almost caressing, but you been talkin about yourself in the third person again
Pause.
The shrink said
Bollocks! Ransoms face emerges from the towel, puce and indignant.
You done it three time in as many minute. Esther is typically unyielding. You said, as Stuart Ransom manager; as Stuart Ransom chief repre
It was a figure of speech! Ransom hisses.
Everything that come out your mouth is a figure of speech. Esther shrugs. Everything that come out my mouth is a figure of speech, come to that.
I dont think you grasp the meaning of a figure of speech, Ransom rejoins.
I understand perfectly well, thank you very much, Esther demurs. I also remember all what the shrink say about it. He say referrin to yourself in the third person was an early warning sign that you was becoming detached from reality and it must be strongly discourage under all possible circumstances.
I cant believe youre bringing this up! Ransoms childishly defensive, bleating, almost stamping his foot. And at such a critical moment, Esther! The start of the weeks play!
There never gonna be a good time, Stu, Esther maintains.
At the start of a weeks play, Esther! Ransom reiterates. Its completely counter-productive!
A second knock on the door.
The pro-am not till Friday, Esther informs him, checking the itinerary.
And it was a virus, Ransom persists, slinging the towel on to the floor. A virus. Yeah? I was ill. My face was like a balloon. My balls were covered in scabs. It was glandular. I only saw the shrink because the insurance people
It a yeast infection, Stu! Esther snaps. If a woman get a yeast infection she go to the chemist an buy herself some bicarbonate, then it done and dusted. When you get yourself a yeast infection it glandular fever! It Stop the world! Hold the front page! Stuart Ransom got him some tiny little scab on his testicle!
How many times do I have to repeat myself? Ransoms bored and exasperated. The yeast infection was just a tiny symptom of the larger malaise
As God is my witness Esther raises an impatient hand to ward him off Jimmie tell me you was discussing the Course Management idea just a couple of day since
Oh yeah, I discussed it with him all right. Ransoms face is glowing. I discussed it with him directly before I sacked his scraggy arse!
Course Management always come in handy, Esther persists. Remember Royal Birkdale? Huh? Micky fall down on his knee an he beg you not to use that wood on the twelfth
The bloody wood! Ransom throws up his hands. One shot! One, stupid, bloody shot! When will I ever hear the end of it?
Esther stares at him, darkly.
Well if you not listen to your coach, an you not listen to your caddie, then maybe
Maybe what? I should listen to you? Ransom smirks, contemptuously.
A third knock at the door. Esther hands him the clipboard, then bends down, with a grunt, to pick up the dropped towel.
Could do worse, she murmurs, straightening up again.
See this?
Ransom points to the small cut on his cheek. This is what happens when I give you free rein with my career, Esther. I end up meeting a deranged, drug-addled, bottle-toting kid whose mother I put into a coma at the hotel she formerly worked in as a publicity stunt.
No point cryin over spilt milk. Esther shrugs. Specially when it get ya page twelve in the Mail she snorts, mirthlessly. Man, that as close as you been to the sport section in some while
This is precisely why my life is falling apart! Ransom gurgles.
This is precisely why you got a career right now, Esther corrects him.
I have a career because Im a world-class golfer, Ransom corrects her.
You got a career because you could handle a club an had good hair good, thick hair fifteen, long year ago, Esther retorts, sharply. Ya got lucky, Stu. But your luck finally run out. Now you gotta buckle down an work, same as the rest of us.
Ransoms hand moves to his hairline, then down to the cut on his cheek again.
A fourth knock sounds on the door.
Some likkle-ickle, baby cut on your cheek! Esther guffaws, heading off to answer it. I took a bigger blow to my dignity this afternoon gettin your room upgraded.
Great. Terrific. Thanks. Ransom turns to face the mirror again, wincing. The gloves are finally off, eh?
Gloves? Esther chuckles, wryly. I wa dragged up in Trenchtown, Stu. We never had us no gloves in the ghetto.
Jeez. Cue the friggin violins! Ransom mutters, palpably outmanoeuvred.
Listen up, Esther volunteers, fingers gripping the door handle. If you want me treat you world class, then you better start behavin world class: play a round in under four over par, dally more than twenty minute on the range, phone your wife sos I dont spend half my born day fieldin her call, quit them muscle relaxant an ditch the belly putter. Deal?
Esther spits on her palm and proffers him her hand.
Ransom doesnt respond. Hes staring down at his itinerary, scowling. After several seconds he pulls the yellow Post-it from the front and screws it into a ball. Don fucking Hansard offering the Stuart Ransom pathetic, little hand-outs on a Course Management seminar?! he scoffs. Thats pure, unadulterated bullshit! Its an outrage! I mean a whole ten per cent off for a tragic DVD appearance?!
Third person, Stu, Esther warns him, sharply.
Ransom drops the Post-it into the toilet and flushes. That sucks, man, he mutters, watching its frenetic progress around the bowl with a distinctly martyred air. That stinks. That just really fuckin
He yanks, aimlessly, at the sagging belt on his robe as the offending, yellow scrap finally disappears from view. that smarts.
Chapter 4
Why fret? she demands. Why all this pointless fretting? You can entertain who you like in here. Its not the mens toilet per se its your own, private room. Its your cubby. Its your special little watchtower
Jen pulls out a stool, sits down on it, tosses a blonde pigtail over her shoulder, bends forward, pushes her two thumbs into the diamanté-lined elasticated tops of her pink knee-high socks and yanks them both up by a couple of extra centimetres.
My watchtower? Gene echoes, bemused.
Its kinda weird, though, dont you reckon? Jen peers around her, frowning. I mean having an office with a large window looking straight out on to the latrines?
She twists sideways, presses her hands on to the wide shelf that runs below the window and gazes through it. At this precise moment the door into the toilet opens, a man enters, sees Jen at the window, does a rapid 180-degree turn and leaves.
God. I bet you see some extraordinary sights in here, she sighs.
Strange as this may seem, Jen Gene struggles to control the edge of sarcasm in his voice Im in the toilets to work he motions towards the mop not to perve on the poor clients all day.
But why else would there be a window if you werent meant to look out of it? Jen demands.
So people can look in? Gene hazards a guess. Ask for help, maybe?
But why would they want to do that?
Ive no idea Gene shrugs. For reassurance. Or if theres a blockage in one of the toilets, or if theyve run out of
Hi there!
Jen waves through the window at a teenage boy who has just entered. He blushes, apologizes, and leaves.
Bless him! Jen coos. He thinks he came into the Ladies by mistake!
Perhaps you could move back a little? Gene suggests.
I see youve won three awards! Jen jumps up and goes to inspect a series of certificates on the wall. Youre such a clever boy! Such a powerhouse! Is there anything youre not brilliant at, Eugene?
I see youve won three awards! Jen jumps up and goes to inspect a series of certificates on the wall. Youre such a clever boy! Such a powerhouse! Is there anything youre not brilliant at, Eugene?
She turns and bats her lashes at him.
Oh, I can think of a few things, Gene murmurs, scowling.
I love this place! Jen skips around the office, baby-clapping. Its just wonderful! Im perfectly at home! Are you hiring at the moment?
No.
Aw.
Jen sticks out her lower lip and pretends to look traumatized.
An elderly man enters the toilet, spots Jen, exclaims loudly, then dashes for a cubicle. He slams his way inside and shoots the bolt.
Oh dear. Jen presses her nose against the window and peers out (leaving a large smudge of make-up in her stead). I think we mightve given that old boy a bit of a turn
The toilet door swings open again. Before she can instigate any further chaos, Gene grabs Jen by the arm and frog-marches her into an extensive broom cupboard to the rear of the room.
Gene, you old devil! Jen squeals as he gently prods her inside.
He holds the door ajar with his body, maintaining a careful gap of at least two feet between them.
So what exactly can I do for you, Jen? he asks. He sounds careworn.
Ooh! Now theres a question! Jen camps it up for all shes worth.
Im serious. (Hes having none of it.)
Jen leans her elbow against the wall, curls a pigtail around her finger and assesses him, coolly. Was Sheila really pissed off yesterday? she wonders. Gene takes a moment to consider his answer, but before he can respond: Because shes quite scary when shes angry, dont you reckon? Jen runs on. She actually quite scared me when I rang. Does she scare you too, sometimes?