Skein Island by Aliya Whiteley

Author:Aliya Whiteley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Time passed for David in a slow haze. The bubble of life with Marianne protected him from the worst – and best – of his emotions. They both returned to work. She resumed library duties and he went back and forth to his office with no real understanding of what he was doing. He couldn’t remember the conversations he had there, or the daily commutes in the car. It seemed beyond trivial to him. If he had gone on making no effort and taking no interest at work, he was certain he would have lost his job, but in the final few days before Christmas it seemed that nobody was concentrating on such things.

Even The Cornerhouse was decked out with tinsel and paper chains, and a row of orange fairy lights ran along the optics, giving out a glow that could almost be described as welcoming. Although an effort had been made with the decoration, the place was deserted. The usual crowd of old men was missing, and a weary silence hung over the rough tables and chairs. The pull of the cubes had left David completely. He wondered if the other men felt the same.

David was about to leave when he heard a cough, and realised Arnie was still there, in his usual seat at the back by the fireplace. At the next table along was Geoff, the perennial loser at the cubes, still wearing his striped tie and nursing his pint with a bruised expression. David’s eyes caught a movement behind the bar, and Mags came forward, and leaned against the pumps with a raise of her eyebrows. She wore a black blouse, her hair loose, her breasts hanging low. She looked older and smaller without her usual audience.

David felt her watching him as he crossed the room to Arnie, tapping the envelope he held against his leg. He stopped in front of the table, not knowing how to begin.

‘What now?’ said Arnie, as if picking up a conversation from minutes earlier.

‘Marianne asked me to give you this.’ David held out the envelope. Arnie reached over without enthusiasm and took it, breaking the seal, sliding the Christmas card into view. It was the expensive type, stiff cream paper, with a picture of a holly leaf embossed with green and silver glitter, golden calligraphic greetings of the season surrounding it.

‘Nice,’ Arnie said. He didn’t read the message inside. ‘She’s still not keen on seeing me, then?’

‘She explained it,’ said David.

‘Yeah, it was a lovely telephone conversation. To be fair, I think she covered everything. Not a word was wasted. A talent she got from her mother.’ He put the card down next to the dregs of his pint of beer. Mags came over with two full pints, and said, ‘Pay me later,’ before stomping away with the old glass in hand.

What had Marianne said to her father? The night after her mother’s funeral she had taken the phone upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom with it. From downstairs, all he heard was the soft rumbling of her serious tone of voice.

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