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She began to get angry; at Quiss for falling in the first place and then for
trying to shove her away; at the missing tile; at the castle itself, the red
crow, the seneschal, the attendants; all of them. _Where_ could the stupid
thing be?
'Are you sure you've counted them properly?' Quiss said in a tired voice,
still holding on to the column.
'Of course I have, several times; there's one missing,' Ajayi snapped, her
voice clipped.
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'Now stop asking stupid questions.'
'No need to bite my tongue off,' Quiss said huffily. 'I was only trying to
help.'
'Well, look for the tile,' Ajayi said. She could hear herself, and she hated
herself for it. She shouldn't lose control like this, she oughtn't to snap at
Quiss; it did no good. They ought to be sticking together through all this,
not quarrelling like schoolkids or growing-apart couples. But she couldn't
help it.
'Look,' Quiss said angrily, 'I didn't hit the fucking board on purpose. It
was an accident. Would you rather I broke my neck?'
'Of course not,' Ajayi said carefully, trying not to snap or shout. 'I didn't
say you did it deliberately.' She wasn't looking at Quiss, she was moving her
head from side to side, still scanning the snow and slates, seemingly intent
on finding the missing tile, but her mind was all caught up in the words; she
knew she wouldn't have seen the tile even if it had been quite obvious; she
wasn't concentrating on the search.
'Maybe you'd rather I did, eh?' Quiss said. 'Eh?'
She looked up at him then. 'Oh, Quiss, how can you say that?' She felt as
though he'd kicked her. There had been no need for him to say that. What
made him say such things?
Quiss just snorted. He pushed himself away from the column with one slightly
shaking arm, and as he did so, the missing tile fell out of one of the bottom
hems of his furs, where it had lodged when it and he fell. At the same moment
a small figure appeared at the far end of the arcade, from a door which led
back into the main body of the castle. They both looked first at the fallen
tile, then at the small attendant. It waved and called out in an excited
voice:
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'Did you say, "There's no such thing as either"?'
They looked at each other again. Ajayi tried to answer, but had to stop, and
patted the top of her chest with one hand; her throat seemed to have dried up,
she couldn't get any words out. Quiss nodded enthusiastically. 'Yes!' he
shouted. He kept nodding his head.
The attendant shook its head. 'No,' it said, and with a shrug disappeared back
into the castle.
Somewhere far away, beneath them in the ruins, a familiar voice cackled,
crowing with distant laughter.
PART FIVE
-HALF-MOON CRESCENT-
On the corner of Maygood Street and Penton Street there was an employment
office, where people went to sign on for dole money. A sign said: Door C
surnames A-K, Door D surnames L-Z.
Graham walked by, looking down to Half Moon Crescent itself; the curve of tall
houses where Sara ffitch was living. His stomach seemed to lurch, tensing
with nervous anticipation. He felt shivery, keyed up; the vaguely sultry,
dulling air seemed suddenly sharpened. Colours stood out, smells (cooking,
asphalt, exhaust fumes) became more vivid. The buildings - ordinary Victorian
three-storey terraces, now mostly converted into flats-were strange and alien.
His heart beat faster when he saw a bike parked outside one of the houses in
Half Moon
Crescent, but it was outside the door next to Sara's, and it was a red Honda,
not a black BMW. He took deep breaths to try and slow his heart down. He
looked up at the window Sara leaned out of sometimes, but she wasn't there.
She will be there, though, he told himself. She won't be out. She will be
in. And she won't have changed her mind.
He went to the entryphone. He pressed the button for her flat firmly. He
waited, staring intently at the grille from which her voice would come. Very
soon.
He waited.
He put his finger on the button, about to press it again, then hesitated,
uncertain whether to wait a little longer or not. She might still be waking
up, or having a shower;
anything. There could be lots of reasons for her not answering yet. He
licked his lips, kept staring at the grille. He leaned forward on the button
once more, closing his eyes as he did so.
He let the button go.
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There was still plenty of time. Even if she wasn't in, he could wait; she
would probably just be out getting something for the salad she'd said she
would make for them.
He wondered whether he ought to press the button again. His stomach was
feeling heavy, sick. He could just imagine someone from the houses on the
corner of Maygood Street watching him now, looking at his back as he stood at
the entryphone grille, waiting and waiting. The grille made a clicking noise.
'Hello?' said a breathless voice. It was her!
'It -' he said, and choked on the words, throat dry. He cleared his throat
quickly, 'It's me. Graham.' She was there, she was there!
'Graham, I'm sorry,' she said. His heart seemed to sink, he closed his eyes.
She was going to say she had changed her mind. 'I was in the bath.' The buzzer
on the entryphone sounded.
He stared at the door for a moment, then at the entryphone, then at the still
buzzing door. He pushed it quickly, just before the buzzer stopped sounding.
The door swung open, and he went in.
There were carpeted steps down to a basement flat, a door straight ahead to
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the ground-
floor flat. He went up the stairs; cheap but cheerful carpet, white paint on
the banisters, fading pastel wallpaper. He could hear an old Beatles record
being played downstairs. He got to the first-floor landing. There were more
steps up to another flat, but the door on the first floor, into her flat, was
open. He knocked and went in, looking around with obvious trepidation, just
on the off chance it wasn't the right flat, or she hadn't meant to leave the
door open. He heard water from a room to his right. Light showed under the
door. 'Graham?' she said.
'Hello,' he called out. He put the portfolio down against the wall and closed
the door on to the landing.
'Go on in, to your left.' Her voice was soaked up by the sound of the running
water. He took the portfolio up again, went round to his left, into a small,
cluttered room with a couch, chairs, television, hi-fi, bookcases and a small
coffee table; at the far end, raised up a few inches, separated from the main
part of the room by small wood railings which each extended a third of the way [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]