Ripped (97 page)

'Different.
It
was
different!'
Even
in
her
sudden
animation,
she
was
careful
to
keep
the
left
side
of
her
face
angled
from
them.
She
had
taken
a
chair
with
its
back
to
the
light,
which
made
no
difference
since
when
she
opened
the
door
they
had
seen
the
black
eye
and
the
ugly
bruise
on
her
cheek.
Pride
was
a
strange
thing.
'Don't
compare
it
to
Florence
Street.
My
mother
would
shout
at
us –
if
we
did
something
dirty
when
we
were
wee,
"They
wouldn't
do
that
even
in
Florence
Street."
They
were
right
rough
in
Florence
Street.'

She
seemed
to
have
finished,
and
Murray
was
about
to
say
something,
when
she
burst
out,
'They
were
rubbish
in
Florence
Street.'

From
somewhere
upstairs,
plaintive
and
discordant,
noise
skirled
female
like
a
wounded
cat.
With
an
inarticulate
cry,
Murray
leaped
to
his
feet.

'It's
Sally,'
Lynda
Stewart
stared
in
fright.
'It's
just
Sally
.
'
Sally
...
He
turned
in
a
kind
of
bewilderment
from
her
to Irene.
He
remembered
Eddy
Stewart
with
his
face
sagging
in
pouches
of
self-pity,
complaining
about
his
marriage
, 'Sally - a magic wee kid...'

'Sally,'
he
said
and
sat
down
again,
ashamed
'According
to
Eddy,
she's
a
daddy's
girl.'

'She's
bothered
with
nightmares,'
Lynda
said
.

As
if
suddenly
too
tired
to
pretend,
she
lay
back
in
the
chair like
that
she
looked
younger.
He
stared
at
her
breasts
and
at
the
way
the
nightgown
fell
between
her
thighs
and
at
the
dull
flare
of
the
bruise
on
her
cheek.

'I
went
to
the
Marriage
Guidance
and
said
I
couldn't
stick
it
anymore,'
she
said
dully.
'The
stupid
bitch
asked
me
if I wouldn't
be
lonely.
I
told
her
I'd
had
practice
.
It's
bad
enough
when
they're
in
uniform,
but
once
they're
in
plainclothes
you've
no
life
at
all.
He
was
never
here
for
the
kids
–
not
even
when
they
were
ill.
And
when
he
was
here – you
watch
a
policeman's
children –
they
all
expect
the
third
degree,
they're
used
to
it,
that's
the
way
they
get
treated
at
home.
He
made
Jenny
feel
as
if
she
was
a
prostitute
until
she
walked
out.
Peter
wouldn't
have
joined
the
army
if
it
hadn't
been
for
him.'
She
got
up
and
went
behind
him
so
that
he
had
to
twist
around
to
see
that
she
was
opening
a
drawer
of
the
sideboard.
Beyond
her,
he
saw
Stewart
in
the
doorway.
'Peter
wrote
to
me,'
she
said,
searching.

'Postcard,'
Stewart
said,
pointing
his
finger
at
her,
'because your
big
son
is
too
fucking
idle
to
write
a
letter.'

He
had
been
drinking
and
wasn't
carrying
it
as
well
as
usual;
or
maybe
he
had
come
to
the
point
Murray
had
seen
in
other
hard
drinkers
when
all
the
bottles
over
the
years
started
to
catch
up.

'Has
that
bitch
been
crying
on
your
shoulder?'
he
asked.

But
it
was
Irene
who
explained
and
persuaded
him
to
come
with
them
out
of
there,
and,
following
the
two
of
them
through
the
hall,
it
was
Murray
who
glanced
up
and
saw
the
white
triangle
of
a
sick
child's
face
watching
them
from
the
landing.
Little
Sally
had
got
out
of
bed
to
see
what
was
happening.

'The
world's
gone
fucking
mad.'
Eddy
Stewart
pushed
up
his
cheeks
with
both
hands
as
if
he
could
squeeze
out
tiredness
like
water
from
a
sponge.
'Why
the
hell
should
anything
happen
to
your
brother?'

Murray,
who
had
taken
over
the
driving,
was
conscious
of
Irene

in
the
seat
behind
him.
It
was
as
if
she
was
a
prisoner;
as
if
he
had
never
left
the
police
force
and
his
old
partner
Eddy
and
he
were
taking
in
a
prisoner;
as
if
everything
in
his
life
had
been
different
and
he
would
not
have
to
tell
the
old
lady
her
son
was
dead.'Your
brother
should
have
stayed
in
his
own
bed,'
Eddy
grumbled.

In
the
last
hour
before
midnight,
Moirhill
Road
was
busy
with

cars;
groups
of
young
men
spilled
off
the
pavements;
there
were
girls
still
walking
home
alone.
He
swung
in
where
the
side
streets
curved
into
ambushes
of
darkness.
Outside
the
school,
they
stopped
and
Eddy
Stewart
got
out.
Busy
with
their
own
thoughts,
they
waited
for
him
to
return
with
whatever
he
had
discovered.
Murray
wiped
steam
from
the
window
in
an
arc
using
the
edge
of
his
palm.
Just
here,
he
had
been
shirricked
by
the
group
of
women
demonstrators:
Women don't kill
!
And
the
tall
one
with
the
wild
grey
hair,
like
a
crazy
family
doctor,
eyes
wide
and
shining:
Jill uses violence to make you face the truth
!