This Sporting Life Page #4

We're responsible for

investing their money.

I can't change my mind.

I feel I'm worth it.

What's Mr. Slomer think?

I'm surprised you discussing

such a figure at all.

What figure would you suggest?

I'm far from convinced he's

the kind of player we want.

You realise, as I'm sure Frank does,

that we're not the only club interested.

Forget other clubs.

We're here to decide

whether we want him.

You have my opinion.

Wait outside a minute.

How goes it, Frank?

They fixed you up?

They're talking.

A drink? Whiskey?

Whiskey, Bob.

Phillips from the City Guardian.

You needn't take it seriously.

Why not?

It's only a game, old sport,

for Weaver's benefit.

They act like that for Weaver?

It's his or Slomer's cash

they're dishing out.

If Slomer hates you, Weaver'll

buy you out of spite.

You got a bruise coming.

Aye.

Weaver wouldn't have you

up to say ta-ta.

Frank.

What will you do

if we don't sign up?

Don't know.

Carry on as I am.

Change your mind about

splitting payment?

No.

No, 1.000 down.

There's nothing else for it.

You're not going to sign me?

That's it, we'll have to.

Congratulations, Frank.

Congratulations, Frank.

Hold it.

Aren't you going to read it?

Aye.

Don't spend it all at once now.

What does it feel like now?

I don't feel much.

It's all a bit quick. That's my fault.

I like to get things settled.

I suppose you don't mind.

Not now, I don't.

Did you have other offers?

No, at least

I didn't hear anything.

If you do, you'll know what to say.

Property of the City.

Best to make sure.

Fairfax Street. That rings a bell.

Hammond used to live there.

He got killed at your place.

Weaver's.

I've got digs with his widow.

Hammond. It was Eric Hammond,

wasn't it?

Yeah.

I remember the funeral.

How'd he get killed?

Quite nasty.

He worked with a lathe.

Very careless.

He was using a hand-file.

It shot off and stuck through him.

We thought he'd done it on purpose.

On purpose!

Yes.

Funny way to commit suicide.

She got no compensation.

The case went against her.

We gave her a bit, not much.

End of the street, or front door?

End of the street will do.

Right.

Good night, Frank.

Good night, Mr. Weaver.

Frank! Aye, Frank!

Hi, Dad.

What are you doing here?

Have they signed you on?

They wouldn't have me, Dad.

You ought to see 'em

round that Weaver like a

pack of dogs around a b*tch.

I told them what to do

with their bastard money.

You haven't done that?

Aye.

You're not crying, are you?

You're not crying?

So it was all for nothing.

Hey, Dad.

I was only kidding you.

I was only kidding.

How much do you think it is?

You tell me, Frank.

You tell me.

A 1.000 quid.

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