Tourquai by Tim Davys

Author:Tim Davys [Davys, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 2011-03-07T16:00:00+00:00

4.6

Darkness sat like a hat on top of Mollisan Town, with stars sparkling in a clear sky. On rue de Montyon in north Tourquai the streetlights lit up the deserted sidewalks, shadows of light fell soft as cotton across the blue asphalt. The weather had long since passed midnight, and the low apartment buildings that lined the street stood dark and silent.

The exception was the fourth and topmost floor at 42 rue de Montyon.

From there a warm yellow light flowed out through the windows, suggesting that the entire top floor was a single apartment with a single resident. The music, too, penetrated out onto the street, or parts of the rhythm at least: a bass drum that kept an insistent and unsophisticated tempo, and a wailing voice that stumbled around a familiar melody.

Claude Siamese’s apartment was somewhat out of the ordinary. It had room upon room upon room in a row in line with the street, and a wood floor laid so that it was impossible to detect the joints: fifty feet of beautiful, wide oak planks, as if the trees were felled by giants. It was sparsely furnished, but here and there was a lounge chair. On the floor piles of pillows were strewn; they could be used as seats, tables, or beds. The lighting shifted in various colors; for an animal going from one side of the apartment to the other, it was like walking through a rainbow.

Out in the kitchen stood a cat, Claude Siamese himself, dressed only in a pair of leopard-spotted leather trousers, alongside him a pretty little rat in a red polka-dot bikini top and jeans, and right behind her a gazelle in a blue jacket. One of the gazelle’s horns seemed to have broken off in the middle. Each of the three was holding a knife and cutting open with concentration some small cans of tuna on the counter.

The apartment was crammed with hi-fi speakers; it was not possible to escape the music anywhere, and the rat and gazelle were singing along.

“But concentrate!” Siamese shouted to be heard above the noise.

The pretty rat only laughed and continued cutting and singing. The gazelle didn’t seem to hear anything at all; he was hacking at his can as if in a trance.

“Focus!” Claude screamed. “We have to SUCCEED! My life depends on it!”

The rat laughed louder and made a few halfhearted attempts to actually hit the little can with her massive knife. The kitchen counter was cut to pieces. When Claude Siamese awoke early the next morning, he would have to make a few calls and have the counter replaced with a new one.

At about this time of day Siamese always felt an uncontrollable urge for tuna fish. He knew there was a can opener somewhere, but he couldn’t think where. Along with the rat and gazelle he had already turned all the drawers in the kitchen inside out. Silverware and cutting boards, saucepans and place mats, tablecloths and napkins were in piles on the floor around them.

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