The Unburied by Charles Palliser

Author:Charles Palliser [Palliser, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781471917479
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2015-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

Thursday Evening

We hurried round to the Cathedral and found that Evensong was just ending as we entered, so instead of taking seats we stood at the back and listened to the organ playing the end of a Bach Toccata and Fugue. The smell was much more noticeable even than it had been the day before and although the interior of the Cathedral was very cold, the odour seemed warm in my nostrils. I was very relieved that we were not staying long.

The celebrant, the servers and the choir filed from the chancel and the small congregation left. While we were talking together in low voices a minute or two later a man suddenly appeared beside us. He must have come, silently and unnoticed, from the direction of the east end.

‘This is Slattery,’ Austin said. ‘Martin Slattery.’

He was tall, about fifteen years our junior, with a very striking face – handsome, spoilt and demanding. His straight black hair was sleeked down like the sheen of an animal’s pelt and altogether he seemed to me like some sort of wild beast. A very vulgar expression which I had heard applied to a hunting-dog came to me: that he had a face that was always ‘on the twitch’ for something. His staring blue eyes seemed to be searching my face for anything that might be of use or pose a threat. I could sense how very charming he could be, but there was something about him which made me believe him capable of anything. Of course, I had had good reason to mistrust a friend of Austin’s.

Slattery was a big man and yet the hand that he now thrust carelessly towards me was oddly delicate. His grip was firm and I was relieved when he relinquished my hand quickly.

‘I’m sorry I only heard a minute or two of your playing,’ I said.

‘I played abominably,’ he replied with a charming smile. ‘You missed nothing.’

His face seemed familiar. I had seen it very recently but I could not recall where.

‘I’m sure that isn’t true,’ I muttered without reflection.

‘I give you my word I played worse than I’ve ever played in this Cathedral. I could do nothing with my hands. They seemed to have a will of their own.’ He held them out in front of him as if lining them up for indictment, looking at them with a suggestion of ironic respect which I found strangely disturbing. ‘A damnable leave-taking to the organ.’

‘I’m sure you’ll play it many times when it is back in commission,’ I said.

‘I doubt that.’ As he said those words he smiled at Austin who had been staring at him since his arrival but who now lowered his gaze. At that moment, I saw the old verger, Gazzard, standing a few yards away and looking towards us. He glanced at me disapprovingly and when I nodded, he turned away.

‘Shall we go to a public-house?’ Austin asked.

We agreed and followed him out of the Cathedral. Austin and I walked ahead and it

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