Dead Funny by Ince Robin

Author:Ince, Robin [Ince, Robin]
Language: ara
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Salt Publishing Limited
Published: 2014-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

December 14th: Went for a walk, just to get out of the house. James is coming home for Christmas, which will be nice. I could certainly use the company.

Roger awoke early, made himself tea and toast and sat in the living room with the phone beside him until it rang.

‘Hello James,’ he said upon picking it up.

‘Oh, hi Dad, how are you feeling?’

‘I’m well, son, how are you?’

‘I’m good – so, look, I’ve cancelled the holiday, so I can come to you for Christmas, but is it OK if I bring Polly?’

Roger nodded to himself – yes, this was how it should go.

‘Of course. I could certainly use the company.’ He permitted himself a wry smile.

‘OK great – take care and we’ll see you on the 24th, OK? Can you manage ’til then?’

‘No problem.’

Roger rang off and stood. He gathered his things together for the walk he would now go on, just to get out of the house.

The day was high and bright, the sky blue and fresh, cold but not unbearable. It brought a touch of rose to Roger’s cheeks. He waved to a neighbour and petted his dog. He let his mind wander back over the past few months, feeling every bit as strange and out of bodied as he had when he first found the book. The mysterious author of those messages felt close to him now; somehow, strangely, as if he could sense him inside. Again he asked silently: why no clue? Why no clue about the thrombosis in the calf? It would have been so easy to add it later, to the post-death months, as a warning, why no clue? It could have been averted. She could be here, now. And then it came to him, so suddenly that it stopped him dead in his tracks. And he turned and hobbled with his stick back home as fast as he could.

He went upstairs without even bothering to remove his coat, only pausing in the study to collect his fountain pen. He picked up the pole with the brass hook and pulled down the wooden door in the ceiling. He unfolded the ladder and let the safety catch click into place. He climbed up as best he could – slower this time, but still able. He flicked the switch to illuminate the bulb and crawled over to the chimney breast. He knelt back and lifted the board, giddy with this plan, this plan that would protect all future Rogers from the horrible fate that had befallen him and the however many that had gone before. He would make the change. He would leave the clue. He would be the Roger that took care of all the Rogers and Rosemarys to come, into eternity. He rolled back the fibre glass insulation, not caring about his hands this time, and pulled at the board beneath. He didn’t have the patience to fish about underneath it, and so he yanked at it instead, leaning back on his heels as he did so.

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