A White Arrest

To work on an egg

The Umpire raised himself from the floor and stretching, folded away the killer. Blinked, opened wide his eyes and was SHANNON, not exactly ordinary citizen, but he had done some of the moves. Even psychos have to eat. He showered and then carefully shaved, using a pearl-handled open razor from his dad. In truth, he’d bought it at a car boot sale but now believed the former. With long, slow sweeps he cut the bristles, and as he reached the Adam’s apple he paused. The eyes reflected and for a minute the Umpire had control, whispered: ‘gut him like.’ Then he was gone and Shannon began to whistle. All spruced up, he said: ‘let’s get booted and suited.’

For breakfast he boiled two eggs and buttered three slices of bread. Then he cut the slices into thin wedges and lined them up neatly: ‘Stand easy, men.’

When the eggs were done, he took a felt marker and did this

to the eggs. Wrote Jack ’n’ Jill on the tips. Ready to nosh down, he sat and crossed himself. He’d seen this on The Waltons and felt it was really cool. Evenly, he removed the tops from the eggs, saying: ‘Hats off at the table, kids.’

Taking one bread soldier, he dipped it in Jack and ate. To and fro, Jack through Jill, he ate with gusto.

It was DHSS day. Standing quietly in line, Shannon replayed The Dogs of War movie in his mind. The window lady looked at his card, said: ‘Mr Noble wants to see you — desk number three. Next!’

Shannon waited for two hours before Noble got him. Time for the Umpire to uncoil, begin to flex. Noble had a thin moustache, like a wipe of soot, and he fingered it constantly. With a degree from one of the new polys, Noble had notions. Scanning through the file, he clicked his tongue, said: ‘Mr Shannon, we seem to have had you for rather a long time.’

Shannon nodded.

‘And… Mmm… you completed the Jobclub, I see.’

Nod.

‘No prospects on the horizon — no hopeful leads from there?’

A giggle.

Noble’s head came up: ‘I said something amusing?’

Shannon spoke, huge merriment bubbling beneath the words: ‘I’m seeking a rather specialised position.’

‘Oh, and what would that be, Mr Shannon, pray tell?’

The Umpire looked right into Noble’s eyes, and the man felt a cold chill hit his very soul.

‘I’d like to participate in cricket — a position of influence, ideally.’

And now the laughter burst. A harsh, mocking sound like a knife on glass. Shannon stood up and leaned across the desk, whispered: ‘I expect there to be vacancies soon.’

And he was gone.

An ashen Noble sat rigid for several minutes until the tea-lady arrived. ‘One or two biccies, Mr N?’

Later in the day, Noble contemplated a call to the police. The loony definitely had a fix on cricket. But what if they laughed at him? It would be round the office in jig-time. Worse, he might have to shave his tash, total horror, resign and sign on. Probably here in his very own domain. A shudder ran through him. No, best leave well enough alone. He’d just put it out of his mind. Right! That’s what he’d do. See how decisive he was. Let his ’tache reign supreme.

Falls was twixt laughter and tears, hysteria fomenting. She said: ‘You know what the ambulance guy said when he saw how Dad was lying?’

Rosie didn’t know, answered: ‘I dunno.’

‘I do love a man ON a uniform.’

Pause.

Then they cracked up.