Authors: Frederic Lindsay
'I
thought
you
were
going
to
pay,'
she
said.
When
he
got
outside,
there
was
no
sign
of
the
car.
In
his
mind
,
ideas
plaited
like
colours
making
one
thing
out
of
light:
he
had
not
been
afraid
of
Kujavia;
there
had
been
too
much
at
stake;
the
girl,
the
poor
girl;
he
was
not
a
coward;
he
was
a
coward;
not
afraid
of
being
hurt
himself,
afraid
of
sharing
in
what
Kujavia
might
do
..
.
anything
you
want,
she
had
said;
the
girl,
the
poor
naked
girl.
Out
of
the
muddle,
a
strange
idea;
Irene
and
I
have
made
a
world
in
which
Kujavia
can
exist.
Irene
and
I
..
.
As
he
walked
the
long
street
among
the
watchful
children,
he
kept
expecting
the
car
to
appear
until
it
occurred
to
him
that
the
driver
had
never
intended
to
wait.
4
Tasting Blood
WEDNESDAY,
AUGUST
29
TH
1988
In
the
car,
Blair
Heathers
was
unwise
enough
to
close
his
eyes.
Blood
in
his
temples
leapt
in
tiny
explosions
of
forked
lightning.
In
fright,
he
popped
open
his
eyes
and
stared
at
the
back
of
the
chauffeur's
head.
'You
were
quick
back,
Denny.'
'You
said
to
make
it
fast,
Mr
H.'
Heathers
caught
the
chauffeur's
glance
in
the
mirror,
and
wondered
if
the
man
had
seen
him
open
his
eyes
so
suddenly.
He
had
been
with
him
for
a
long
time;
perhaps
he
had
remarked
on
that
movement
before
and
speculated
about
it.
Heathers
found
that
thought
unpleasant
and
said
abruptly,
'So
I
did.
You'll
be
looking
for
a
productivity
bonus,
Denny
.
'
The
chauffeur
laughed
dismissively.
He
practised
an
exactly calculated
independence
since
both
of
them
knew
that
was
the
form
of
obsequiousness
Heathers
found
most
comfortable.
He
kept
silence
then
until
the
car
drew
to
a
halt.
'That's
it
on
the
left, the
house
should
be
about
half
-
way
down
going
by
the
number,
it
doesn't
seem
all
that
long
a
street.'
He
squinted
at
the
house
on
the
opposite
corner.
'I
can't
read
the
numbers
from
here
.
'
'Bloody
little
people,'
Heathers
said.
'They
hide
their
number
in
wee
iron
knots
on
the
gate.
Put
bloody
silly
names
over
the
door.
Pretend
they're
in
the
middle
of
an
estate
park
hoatching
with
sheep
and
gamekeepers.' This
time
it
seemed
to
Heathers
his
chauffeur's
laugh
was
genuine.
'I'll
carry
on
straight
ahead,'
the
man
said.
'Find
the
first
place on
this
side
of
the
road.'
'You
do
that,'
Heathers
said,
preparing
to
get
out.
'One
of
these
days
when
I'm
sitting
reading
my
paper,
somebody'll
think
I'm
getting
ready
to
bag
his
house
–
and
call
the
police.'
'That'll
be
right,'
Heathers
said
drily.
'First
thing
that
would
occur
to
anybody
seeing
a
car
like
this.'
The
joke
put
him
in
a
good
humour
with
himself
as
he
processed
between
the
semi-detacheds,
small
family
houses
built
in
the
thirties.
Some
had
put
a
dormer
window
in
the
attic
to
get
a
third
or
fourth
bedroom;
at
one
time,
somebody
had
set
a
fashion
for
adding
a
porch.
The
garages
took
up
most
of
the
space
between
neighbours.
'Ravenscraig', 'Beechcroft'
.
In
Gaelic:
'Sky
and
Sea'.
It
was
easy
to
miss
the
numbers.
When
she
opened
the
door,
he
could
smell
the
mingled
scent
of flowers
and
furniture
polish. Inside
there
was
a
fitted
carpet
with
a
hard-wearing
dark
pattern,
a
low
table
for
the
telephone
fitted
with
a
padded
seat,
a
stand
bearing
a
vase
of
yellow
tea
roses.
There
was
even
a
barometer
on
the
wall.
In
the
living
room
,
looking
at
a
piece
of
polished
wood
that
seemed
to
be
an
imitation
of
the
kind
of
tourist
junk
he
had
seen
for
sale
in
African
airports,
he
said,
'Malcolm's
a
lucky
man
.
I
hadn't
realised
–
I
hadn't
expected
you
to
be
the
perfect
housewife.'
'You
don't
know
anything
about
me,'
she
said.
'Malcolm
–
does
he
know
all
about
you?
How
long
have
you
been
married,
a
year
is
it,
two?
I
wouldn't
be
surprised
if
there's
a
lot
about
you
he
doesn't
know.'
'If
you
want
to
wait
until
he
comes
home,'
she
said,
'you
can discuss
it
with
him.'
'It
was
you
I
wanted
to
see.
That's
why
I
phoned
to
find
out
if you'd
be
in.'
'Not
you,'
she
said.
'It
was
your
secretary
who
phoned.'
He
shrugged
then,
as
a
thought
struck
him,
smiled
. 'Confidential
secretary.
She
knows
when
to
keep
her
mouth
shut.'
Irene
Wilson
was
sitting
on
the
couch
in
the
full
light
from
the
deep
picture
window.
From
the
comfortable
chair
–
which
had
a
fitted
cover,
of
course,
in
a
floral
pattern
and
tied
underneath
with
tapes
–
he
studied
her
legs
and
was
pleased
with
what
he
saw.
She's
better
looking
than
I
remember,
he
thought;
like
an
actress.