Read Online Black Chalk by Christopher J. Yates - Free Book Online

Fromm.’
    Emilia’s eyes narrowed and she cocked her head. And then she said, ‘You know, you’re one of the few people who, when I mentioned studying psychology, didn’t say, oh, so tell me what I’m thinking right now .’ Jolyon peered hard at Emilia. ‘Is something up?’ she said.
    ‘Oh, nothing. No, it’s just … you remind me of someone I knew for a short while.’
    ‘Someone good, I hope,’ said Emilia.
    Jolyon seemed to slip away for a moment and an awkward silence fell over them.
    Chad jumped in. ‘What made you choose psychology, Emilia?’ he said.
    ‘That’s a very good question, Chad.’ Chad felt the familiar heat washing over his cheeks. ‘I don’t know,’ said Emilia. ‘Perhaps that’s one of the things I’m hoping to find out before leaving here.’
    *   *   *
    XII(vi)    While Jack drummed his fingers against his cheek, thinking through possible candidates for the sixth spot, and while Chad thought about Emilia and lingered in his daydreams, Jolyon was thinking of little else but Emilia as well. Or at least his thoughts began with Emilia. Because soon he began to think about his month in Vietnam, the American girl with the same white-sand hair, the same sea-green eyes. The similarity was striking. They could have been sisters. The same coral lips.
    *   *   *
    XIII    Games have awoken in me unpleasant memories of my divorce. Those boxes represent the only shared belongings I held on to when I left Blair four years ago. I even took the childish games we bought for the visits of her nieces and nephews. My ex-wife chose not to contest the ownership of Chutes & Ladders. Games had always been one of the sore points in our relationship, I couldn’t bear to lose even the friendliest of contests. And Blair deserved better, she only ever wanted to fix me. Poor Blair.
    But never mind yesterday, yesterday was merely a blip. I have bagged up the games with the garbage, there will be no more frivolous pursuits. And today has felt better. My resolve remains undiminished and my story progresses. My evening routine is complete. The evening is a season unto itself, Keats’s autumn, all mists and mellow fruitfulness.
    Chilli and rice. Check. Small nip of whisky. Check. Glass of water. Check.
    Disrobe, brush teeth, take meds. One pink pill, one yellow, one blue.
    And a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.
    Life is a game of balances. Work, play. Wake, sleep. Stimulant, narcotic.
    My snug skin, my cosy mind, the gentle hum of me. Check.
    *   *   *
    XIV    Chad knocked on the door. He could hear the faint sound of creaks from within, the groaning of floorboards as Jolyon moved closer. Chad sense a tightness in his chest. Was he nervous? That would be foolish, he wasn’t here for any particular reason, only to hang out with Jolyon. At lunchtime perhaps they would go to the Churchill Arms. Maybe they would buy second-hand books beforehand or just sit and drink coffee and talk about the Game. So perhaps the feeling in Chad’s chest wasn’t nerves but a thrill.
    When Jolyon opened his door, he smiled. He didn’t say anything, he only turned around and moved toward his bed where a newspaper was spread out, every inch of the blanket covered but for a small spot to which Jolyon returned.
    ‘I bumped into Prost at the bottom of the stairs,’ said Chad, ‘and he asked me to give this back to you.’ He waved several sheets of paper covered in handwriting.
    ‘Thanks,’ said Jolyon, ‘just leave it on the desk.’
    ‘What’s Prost doing with an essay on Roman law written by you?’
    Jolyon looked confused for a moment. He picked up a page of newspaper and prodded it. ‘There’s a great story in here,’ he said. ‘Mikhail Gorbachev is being hotly tipped to win the Nobel Peace Prize next week.’
    ‘Jolyon, I thought you said – and let me get the words just right – that Prost is a one hundred per cent, grade A, total frickin cock.’
    Jolyon sighed. ‘Look,