Part 18 (1/2)

At first she enjoyed the work. All she did was lump wine cartons full of Madam's personal effects down one floor to the next. They did it together. They carried the cartons down the steps and then stacked them in the corridor. At first it was companionable. But as the morning went on, something soured inside her, not toward Wally, whom she had, against her better judgement, begun to like, but here she was again, a servant to some frigging pigeons. here she was again, a servant to some frigging pigeons.

He was a decent man, she did not doubt it, but decent was not what she was looking for. She began to go up the stairs too quickly, her mouth open, the little bracelet jingling on her ankle.

She was doing what she always did she was attaching to this dump because she feared that if she didn't she would end up somewhere even worse. She had been inside for three whole days. She was attaching to it, to him, one more poor bozo, because he was here. She could feel herself doing it. She became angry with the building, with the birds. She had that feeling again: like bubbles in her blood.

She felt the flames flicking around, tickling the edges of her vision, and G.o.d knows where this feeling itchy, irritating, more-ish would have led her had she not, in stooping to pick up the twenty-first box, caught her fingernail and torn it to the quick. The pain was like iced water. It snapped her out.

That's it,' she said. 'That is it.' it.'

'What's it?' he said.

Once again: she had not even known that he was in the room. 'I don't have to stay here,' she said.

'No one's asking you to.'

All his hidden hurt was suddenly as clear as freckles. She laid her hand on the back of his wrist, the only apology she could make.

'You could stop right now.'

'I think I will.'

'You could take a break.'

'Yes.'

'You could just do me one favour.'

'What's that?' she asked.

'I need to go out for an hour,' he said, 'and ... I'm expecting a delivery.'

'I got to be honest I'm getting tired of being cooped up, you know?'

'It'll be fifty minutes, maybe less.'

'I got to be honest I just can't baby-sit your pigeons.'

'The pigeons will be with me, sweets. I want to show them to a mo-ami.'

'You'll be back in fifty minutes?'

'I'll be back by four o'clock. I promise. You could sit outside, on the steps.'

She looked at his face, the pale lips, the hurt grey eyes. 'You'll be back in fifty minutes?'

'In an hour, easy.'

She did what he said: sat out on the front steps, in the air. It was not so creepy out there. She bought a sandwich at the Levantine shop across the street. She watched some black ants crawling across concrete.

At half past four there had been no delivery and he was still not back. She was going to take a walk, but then the evening thunderstorm arrived and she retreated inside and sat on the unmade bed and waited for him. There were books there but she did not look at them. There was a radio too, but she was apprehensive about being alone inside the big old building and didn't want anything to interfere with her hearing. She sat cross-legged on her mattress listening for noises. She did her nails, and when they were done she let her hands sit limply on her knees, waiting.

At six o'clock it was pitch dark outside. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d was still not back. The rain had stopped and she would have gone out, except now she was scared to walk down the d.a.m.n corridor alone.

But finally she was more mad than scared. She took her shoes off and crept down the dark stairs to the foyer.

She opened the velvet curtain which s.h.i.+elded the foyer from the theatre and there she found Wally standing on a high ladder, fixing a blue gel on to one of the lights.

'Want to know what I'm doing?' he called down.

She could have had great satisfaction in pus.h.i.+ng his ladder over. Once upon a time she would have done it, and he would have found out, faster than a blink, what he had not noticed about her in the two days until now. But she sat down instead and he could not guess, grinning down at her from the top of his ladder, his great good luck.

'Guess,' he called. 'Three guesses.'

She shrugged. There was a six-pack at the base of the ladder. She leaned forward and ripped one off.

'Setting up a show,' he said.

'That's nice,' she said. The beer was warm.

Six nights from now, all this would seem like a bad dream. She would be in an auction room with all her funds invested in a nice dress and some shoes.

'Will you come into the ring a moment, sweets?'

'Why?'

'Please. Just be careful of the wires. I've got the mixing console up there.'

She shrugged, and stood up and stepped on to the damp sawdust in her bare feet.

'A smidgin to your right, careful of the wires, now a little further forward. Great.'

He shone the light right in her face. She held her hand over her eyes.

'Now what?' she asked.

'Now go back and sit in your seat. Just watch out for the wires.'

When she was out of the ring, the lights still dancing in her eyes, he sat beside her. Smelled of toothpaste again.

'Here.'

She took the package.

'Choccies for the show.'