The Space Vampires (Jerry eBooks) by Colin Wilson

Author:Colin Wilson [Wilson, Colin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jerry eBooks
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

They heard shouts of laughter as they emerged from the trees. The three girls were swimming in the lake; Annaleise was on her back, kicking up a haze of spray. When Selma Bengtsson saw them, she waved and called: “Your wife tried to reach you.”

Carlsen asked: “Did she leave a message?”

“No.”

Geijerstam said: “Why don’t you call her back? Perhaps, if there is no urgency, you could stay another day?”

“You’re very kind.”

The dreamlike sensation had left him; now he was physically tired. He wanted to lie down and sleep. The idea of relaxing for another day was attractive.

In the house, Geijerstam said: “Please use the screen in my study. That is upstairs.”

It was a small, comfortable room that smelt of warm leather and cigars. The leather smell came from the old-fashioned settee, which was standing too close to the log fire. As he sat down at the desk, Carlsen said: “Would you mind being introduced to my wife? She discovered your book, so she’d like to say hello.”

“It would be a pleasure.”

He was able to dial direct. Jeanette’s face appeared on the screen. She said: “Daddy! Are you on the moon?”

“No, darling. Just across the sea. Is Mummy there?”

Jelka’s voice said: “Yes, I’m here. Hello.” She picked Jeanette up and sat her on her knee. “Are you all right?” For some reason, Jelka was never at ease on the telescreen. Her manner seemed detached and cool, like a secretary.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

Jeanette asked: “Are you coming home today?”

“I don’t know, darling. I might stay another day. I’m staying in a castle that belongs to this gentleman.” He beckoned to Geijerstam, who moved within range of the screen. Carlsen introduced him, and Jelka and Geijerstam exchanged polite comments. Jeanette interrupted:

“Daddy, what’s a pryminister?”

“A what?”

Jelka said: “Oh, yes. The Prime Minister’s office wanted to get in touch with you. Unfortunately, I’d lost your address.”

He felt a stir of uneasiness, like a cold wind on the back of his neck. “What did they want?”

“I don’t know.”

“And did you find the address?”

“No. Susan’s been making paper aeroplanes out of the jotting pad.”

“Then how did you get this number?”

“I rang Fred Armfeldt at the Swedish embassy. The Prime Minister’s secretary’s going to ring back later. I’ll give him the number then.”

“No!”

She looked startled at his vehemence. She asked: “Why not?”

“Because . . . because I don’t want anyone to disturb me.”

“But suppose it’s important?”

“Never mind that.” He was aware of the irritation in his voice. “If anyone rings, say you’ve lost my address.”

She looked around. “That’s someone at the door. When are you coming home?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

When he had rung off, Geijerstam said: “Do you have something against your Prime Minister?”

He was massaging his eyes with his fingers; he shook his head. “No. It’s just that . . .” He shrugged.

“What?”

He looked up. “Does it matter?”

“I would like to know.”

Carlsen stared out of the window, frowning. He said: “I . . . don’t know. I suppose I’m enjoying myself here.”

There was a knock on the door. Fallada said: “I’m not intruding?”

“No, come in.

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