Shooting in the Dark

found the twenty in the top pocket of his jacket and another one in his shoe. He watched everything they did. He couldn’t move; if they’d started to eat him he wouldn’t have been able to fight. He was nauseous and a riff from a song kept going through his head, maybe it was a hymn or a carol, something about a blackbird.
    They took his feet and dragged him through to a backyard. The one with the cricket bat spat on the concrete and looked up at the sky. Ralph thought he must’ve been built by the same firm that did Stonehenge. Didn’t tell him, though; no point upsetting the guy.
    Ralph must’ve passed out for a while, then, because when he opened his eyes he wasn’t in the backyard any more. He was in a long alleyway on his knees. The little guy had said something and the big one-eyed one was walking away, the bat swinging easily by his side. ‘Just don’t kill him,’ he said.
    Which was good news, the best Ralph had heard all day.
    The little guy kicked him, must’ve been twenty times. A rib went, and something in his back but he couldn’t help feeling glad it wasn’t the big guy doing the kicking. A boot in the ear sent his consciousness reeling and when he came back to his senses he was alone, shivering with cold. He crawled out of the alley and over the pavement to the kerb.
    A couple of university students on their way to the Spread Eagle found him and rang an ambulance. Ralph had hated students all his life but those two were OK. One of them had a thick woollen overcoat and he took it off and wrapped it around Ralph’s body, kept him warm until the ambulance arrived.
     
    Janet had got Echo off to sleep and Geordie was telling her about his conversation with JD. ‘He reckons we’re genetically programmed to recognize beauty. Men like women with big eyes and lips and boobs.’
    ‘Fascinating.’
    ‘And women like tall handsome guys who put it around.’
    ‘Not necessarily, Geordie. There’s someone for everybody.’
    ‘Yeah, I know, but what we think is beautiful, the things we think are beautiful, JD reckons that’s the same for everybody. Things like good skin, small lower face, and the way the face is proportioned.’
    ‘Theories like that worry me,’ Janet said. ‘They seem to leave so many people out.’
    Geordie opened the door of the stove and put another log in. He almost stood on Barney, who was stretched out on the rug, and the dog opened one eye for a moment, lifted his tail clear of the floor and held it there.
    ‘He told me about this guy who lost his memory for faces. Student, was in a car crash, and he had these head injuries. So the medics put all the pieces back together again and the guy was good as new, except he couldn’t recognize faces. He lived a more or less normal life, got married and had a bunch of kids, held down a job. But he couldn’t recognize his wife or kids or any of the people he worked with. He never recognized anyone by their face. He’d look at people and it would be like a light show, but a different light show every time. There’d be no clue to who it was. Can you imagine that?’
    ‘Barely. Poor guy.’
    ‘Anyway, the point I’m getting at,’ Geordie continued, ‘he still knew who was attractive and who wasn’t.’
    ‘What’s considered attractive is a matter of fashion,’ Janet said. ‘It changes from generation to generation. There’s no such thing as universal beauty.’
    ‘Yeah, JD said the same about fashion, but he reckons there are a few basic proportions and lines that our genes respond to, and those things don’t change.’ He laughed. ‘Have you noticed how Echo stares at you?’ he said. ‘She just lies in your arms and looks up into your face as if you’re the best thing she’s ever seen.’
    ‘Well, she hasn’t seen that much yet.’
    ‘Even if she had, it’d still be the same,’ Geordie told her. ‘You’re the best thing I’ve seen.’
    ‘You’re not too bad yourself,’ she said. ‘Tall, anyway.’
    ‘You give me the silver tongue like that, it makes me wonder what you’re after.’
    ‘Cup of tea’d be nice,’ she said. ‘If you fancy making one.’
    ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Then I’ll have to take Barney for a walk.’ The telephone rang while Geordie was in the kitchen. Janet picked it up. She registered the message, replaced the handset and waited for Geordie with her hands folded together in her lap.
    He came through with two mugs of tea, placed one of them on the low table next to her