Old Devil Moon by Christopher Fowler

Author:Christopher Fowler
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473540132
Publisher: Transworld

red torch

The rain had fallen all morning, and by 3:00 pm it was already nearly dark. He had kicked around the house getting under his mother’s feet, and visited the local library, but the book he wanted, on the history of British horror films, was still out on loan. He checked the South East London Mercury cinema listings, and realised that he had seen every film on release. At the Greenwich Granada, You Only Live Twice and Thunderball were showing in a double bill, but he had seen each of them several times, and the former had already started. They always showed re-releases on Sundays at the Granada.

Still, with nothing better to do, he made his way to the cinema and, as the films had ‘A’ certificates, waited for someone to take him in. Taking his place in the stalls, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and looked around, his pulse quickening. He was almost fourteen, and spent all his pocket money at the pictures. He especially liked spy films, the Man From Uncle series, the Bonds, even James Coburn’s Flint movies. He longed to travel to the casinos where 007 met his women, the grand mountain roads and mansions where he faced his adversaries, but settled for vicariously experiencing them on the great screen of the old cinema.

Still, it was not why he had come today.

He had seen her before, watching him in the penumbral auditorium, and had felt a prickling warmth beneath her gaze, a confusion, a desire. He wanted to follow the warm red glow of her torch down the aisle, back to the little room where she waited between shows.

He sat fidgeting as Bond flipped a rock on to the volcano’s green lake surface, only to discover that it was made of steel. By his rough guess, that left the final battle against Blofeld, which lasted about twenty minutes; not long to wait. As the credits rolled, he looked around and saw her carefully making her way down to the front of the auditorium. She moved slowly because the floor was raked and she wore white high heels. Positioning herself between the aisles, she patiently waited for the house lights to rise. The bulb hidden in her white tray illuminated choc ices, ridged plastic cartons of fluorescent orange drink, wafers and tubs, but shrouded her face in shadow. Her proudly raised chin and disdainful air suggested that she might have been displaying ancient Egyptian artefacts, even though the effect was slightly tarnished by the fact that she was chewing gum.

Her strapped heels, the little Grecian skirt and her illuminated tray of offerings gave her the appearance of an electric goddess. Her blonde hair was fixed with a red plastic bow to keep her fringe out of her eyes, but the sides fell to her shoulders in an old-fashioned style. She wore a short pink nylon blouse buttoned down the front, and a glittery white patent leather belt. The first two buttons were undone, so that the rise of her pale breasts shone in the overhead spotlight.

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