Gillespie and I by Jane Harris

Author:Jane Harris
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780571271993
Publisher: Faber and Faber Ltd
Published: 2011-04-19T21:00:00+00:00

Towards the end of my visit, I heard footsteps on the staircase, and turned to see Ned coming down from the attic. There he was: a dark shadow, crossing the hall, picking up his hat from the stand, approaching the front door – all without even a glance into the kitchen. Unable to catch his eye, I looked at Annie. She was making twists of paper for the fire, and although she must have heard his descent, she paid no heed. I turned back, just as Ned opened the front door and stepped outside. He must have seen us, as he passed, for the kitchen door was wide open and we were both visible from the hallway. But he had simply departed, without any acknowledgement, closing the front door firmly behind him. I heard his footsteps recede, as he ran away, down the close. For her part, Annie seemed intent upon ignoring his abrupt exit.

‘That was Ned,’ I remarked, but Annie failed to reply.

The tap was dripping, and so I stood up and went over to turn it off. Looking through the window, I was just in time to see Ned dash across the washing green. Two reporters were leaning against the back wall in Stanley Lane, but Ned shot out of the gate so fast that he was almost gone before they had noticed him. They gave a shout, and set off in pursuit. Although I had only briefly glimpsed the artist’s face – once as he had passed through the hall, and then when he glanced over his shoulder as he sped down the lane – I could tell that he was exhausted. I turned to Annie.

‘Is he sleeping, at all?’ I asked.

‘I’ve no idea,’ she said, lightly.

Not wishing to pry, I fell silent. Annie’s back was turned, and I was unable to see her face. She twisted another length of newspaper, as though she wished that she could throttle it. Presently, she spoke.

‘If you must know, he sleeps in the studio, these days, on the chaise.’

I fiddled with the tap, which appeared to need a new washer. To be perfectly honest, I was at a loss for words. Annie seemed to feel the need to explain the situation, because she went on.

‘You see, neither of us can bear to be in our bedroom, even with the curtain shut, because that horrible man watches everything. So Ned sleeps in the studio, and I’ve been spending the nights in Rose’s bed.’

‘Oh, well,’ I said, awkwardly. ‘That must be – some comfort.’

All the while, I was wondering whether a marriage that had deteriorated so terribly much could ever be mended or saved.

*

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