The Devil's Pocketbook by Ross Jeffery

Author:Ross Jeffery
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2023-05-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Erik sat in the study, though to call it a study would imply it had books and a desk and possibly a lamp. This was a box room: a poky, dusty space that had probably once been a small nursery. It reminded Erik of Annie’s room at home, that vacant room that neither of them wanted to enter; they’d pretty much sealed it up like a pharaoh’s tomb after they’d boxed up all her gifts and things, leaving them piled up inside like ushabtis.

Erik had found a fold out table in the utility room downstairs and then brought a chair from the dining table. It wasn’t much but it helped to make it feel less like a child’s tomb. He’d placed his pencils on the fold out table, organised in descending grades; a pile of paper sat to one side in the light that was streaming through the window.

Erik glanced out of the window. The village was alive with people, fishermen mainly, tying off boats to rusted anchor cleats, hauling nets, carrying crates, stacking fish in ice boxes.

The change in weather was unexpected. It was supposed to continue raining today, but the morning sunshine was a welcome elixir for his tired and addled brain. He was also thankful that Lara and Scylla had gone out for a walk; not to be rid of them, but he needed time to think straight, and it seemed that when Scylla wasn’t around the tinkling noise faded. He’d wadded his ears with cotton wool again this morning to stop the persistent ache. It helped some, and after they’d left the house the sound stopped completely. After last night with Lara, Erik had just wanted to keep her close, fearful that depression would sink its unyielding fangs into her again and he’d be cast aside like rubbish. He also didn’t like the thought of playing second fiddle to Scylla again; he was jealous, was that such a bad thing? But in the end, he let them leave for their walk, and with the ringing in his head now gone, he was happy with the choice he made to stay behind.

Erik forced his mind to return to his character sketches; he’d had a few brewing in his mind. Dennis from The Smuggler’s Inn would make a fabulous study, what with his puckered, jowly face. Then there was the fisherman, Tony, a caricature that needed no embellishment. He decided to start with Tony, sketching the foundational lines in his mind.

Erik turned back to the window. He could see Scylla and Lara meandering around the harbourside. They seemed to have stopped in front of a seagull pecking at something. Scylla’s head rocked back and he saw that she was laughing. He felt that this day couldn’t get any better; the girl had been a great source of concern for him, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. He could never fully flesh out that beast of doubt. Whenever his pencil tried to find its shape, it escaped him.

Returning

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