Kansas in August by Patrick Gale

Author:Patrick Gale [Patrick Gale]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007404933
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2012-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter fourteen

Hilary met Mrs Sharma in the hall as he opened the door. He started to say hello but she silenced him, pressing a finger to her lips and then pointing to the ceiling with such a broad smile that he wondered if she were not quite herself. With much gesticulating, and almost touching his arm, she let herself out. He dropped his briefcase at the bottom of the stairs, for it was one of the few nights of the week free of marking, and padded upstairs, snow-sodden shoes in hand.

In marked contrast to his sister, Hilary tended to surround himself with objects. His impulse to collect was eclectic as a wealthy Texan’s and he had a twelve-year-old’s reluctance to throw things away. His flat, which took up the top floor, while the Sharmas spread through various extensions around the shop below, was cluttered with photographs, china and magazine racks. Miscellanea which had amused him from junkshop windows or market stalls were borne proudly home to find their niche in the companionable magpie nest. What to his sister’s eye represented a nightmare of interior design, however, had for him the precision, the ‘rightness’ of an ever-growing personal mosaic. In his absence, Dan had taken over the living room. The carrycot stood empty in a corner with a folded-up pushchair. What books remained on the desk had been stacked up to make space for a gaudy changing mat. Two packets of disposable nappies lay in the armchair; a third lay opened on the desk. Dan’s feeding bottle was soaking, dismantled, in sterilizing fluid. The top left drawer of the chest of drawers was pulled open and filled with carefully folded babygros, hats, bootees, disarmingly midget gloves joined with elastic, and an assortment of dwarf jerseys in various pastel shades. On the back of the door an efficient-looking anorak was hooked up, like the lagging for a Toytown boiler. Even by Hilary’s lumber-room standards, his home looked more than slightly bombed.

The first cause of all this transformation lay, breathing deeply as ever, in an imposing blue cot in the corner where Hilary usually dragged a square of hardboard on which to practise his tap dancing. Hilary sat on the sofa and peered closely at him. Beyond question he was extremely attractive, probably clever, at present defenceless and decidedly domineering. Hilary reached a finger through the bars and stroked the back of one of Daniel’s hands.

‘What are you doing here?’ he whispered. The telephone rang and he snatched it up before a second ring could wake the baby. ‘Hello?’ he whispered.

‘Hil?’

‘Richard. Hi.’

‘Why are you whispering?’

‘Long story. Thanks for a lovely evening.’

‘Not at all.’

‘What are you doing tonight?’

‘I was meant to be dragging you to your dance class, remember?’

‘Oh God, Rich, I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

Dan was making waking noises. Hilary threw him a rapid glance.

‘I just can’t. All right?’

‘Fine. I won’t ask. Give him my modified love.’

‘No. It’s not …’

‘Happy birthday, Hil. Speak to you soon.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why are you whispering?’

“Bye.’

‘Be like that.’

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.