STARSHINE, THEOCEAN AND THE UNICORN
Chapter three                                                                                                     Part twelve




                The grandstand was crowded.  It was a clear sunny day 'though a cold wind blew, Joe felt it through his thin jacket, it chilled his already cold body.  He was in a daze, he felt weak and feverish.  He lost himself in the crowds and the movement of the racecourse.  People milled around and men stood high above them, waving their arms about in their weird tick-tack language, while names and numbers were chalked up and rubbed off blackboards.  Joe watched the sleek horses being warmed up by impish jockeys in colourful shirts and caps.  He tried to make a plan but his ideas raced around his head and fell over themselves.  He knew he had to wait for Jack to arrive, then things would just happen and his mind would clear.  He drew hard on a cigarette, his lungs seemed to shake and his heart hammered against his breast bone.  He wanted to cry but his tear ducts were dry.
                  " Sorry I'm late."
                   Jack O'Neil was a little, ferret faced man, he had thick brown hair around the sides of his head and a bald pate.  Joe could see him out f the corner of his eye, he could see the garish colours of Jack's red shirt and navy, nylon suit, too short in the arms and legs.  Joe would not look at him, he could not look at him.  He felt all the eyes around them digging deep inside him connecting him with Jack O'Neil.  Joe could not bare it.  His brain screamed with paranoia.  He pushed past Jack and said quickly,
               "We mustn't be seen together.  Meet me in the pub in half an hour.  The one near the station car park on the main road."
                   Joe walked away quickly before Jack could object.  He tried to breath deeply and make his fever subside as he walked from the racecourse, down the main road to the pub, but a bird was inside his body, an ugly, ferocious bird,  it held his larynx tight in its beak, its wings beat crazily against his rib cage and its talons clawed at his guts.
                  The pub was plush with red carpet and oak tables.  He sat at the bar and drank two whiskies, his mind had gone blank and the chatter and hubbub around him seemed far away.  Then he bought himself a third whisky and a black coffee ready for Jack.  He sat at a table with his back to the wall.  He took the ring box from his jacket pocket tipped the sugar lump from its satin lining, onto the saucer to join the other one, careful not to touch even its paper wrapping.  He cast his eyes around the room, but none were cast back in his direction, he had not been seen.  He put the ring box back in his pocket and pushed the cup of coffee to the far side of the table, right on the edge, as if it belonged to someone who had nothing to do with him.  He tried again to relax but he was crazy with guilt and fear.  Suddenly Jack was there.  Joe got up to go and without even a glance at Jack he said under his breath,
" Drink the coffee and then follow me out to the gents, I've got something to show you. "  
                     Jack giggled,
                                          " Didn't know you felt that way about me," he pursed his lips.  Joe cringed and got away from the table, fast.  He looked back quickly from the doorway and saw Jack stirring his coffee, a pleased  look on his face as if enjoying the excitement and mystery of the shady bit of business about to be revealed to him.  Joe did not think he would take too long finishing his coffee and getting to the gents.
                    The gents sparkled with pure, disinfected white ;  the hand basins, the bogs, the tiled walls, the urinals, all clean like they were fresh out of a shop window and had never been used.  Joe was alone and he prayed there would be no other occupants for the next five minutes.  He leant on a basin, his fevered heart beating hard and sweat started to bead around his temples.  Jack was a conniving, lying, cheating little runt, but Joe had never meant him this much harm.  He splashed cold water over his face and wiped it off with a paper towel.  Jack stumbled through the door, he was pulling at the collar button of his shirt, his face was puce and a horrible scratching and rasping was coming from his throat.  Joe caught him under the arms, swung him round into a cubicle and locked the door.  He sat Jack on the bog seat and by the time he had pulled his nylon , navy trousers down around his ankles, Jack's head had fallen back against he pipe and he was staring up at the cistern with bulging, dead fish eyes and Joe remembered the courier at the airport.  He heard the door bang and quickly climbed onto the seat, putting his feet on either side and tucking them underneath the body to hide them from the gap under the door.  The guy pissed into the urinal, it was a long, steady, full stream that would not end.  Joe's head was spinning and he was weeping inside.  He wanted Jack to cry out and give him away, but Jack was dead.
                  The stream turned into a trickle and then stopped.  Joe heard the zip and then the door.  He got down, out of the cubicle and closed the door as far as it would close with the lock turned to "engaged".  He turned a tap full on, soaped his hands and let the hard rush of water run over them. He ripped out another paper towel and did not know why he had washed his hands.  He should have got out straight away, but he had washed his hands and he did not know why.  He screwed up the paper towel, threw it down and split.
                       Outside two articulated lorries thundered past him, one after the other.  Joe was glad of the noise, it drowned his thoughts and hid deed.  He threw the ring box into a ditch at the side of the road and walked towards the car park.