Read Online Force Majeure by Daniel O'Mahoney - Free Book Online

the Estebans, was to keep them in the dark.
    ‘Trust me,’ he said, after his pause, ‘it wasn’t for the good of my soul.’
    He sounded proud. She nodded. ‘What’s the deal with the house? Off-limits for police?’
    ‘I’m not police. No, the house likes to think it’s older than the city. It’s suspicious of us. Could be true, you know. There were probably settlements here before Doctor Arkadin arrived. He wouldn’t have set up shop here on a whim.’
    ‘Indian settlements? Before the Europeans?’
    ‘Before the Indians, if you believe Flower-of-the-Lady. Before the humans, if you believe her.’ He laughed. He sagged back into the squeaking protest of his chair. His jacket was unbuttoned and the open folds swung limply at his side. He stretched out, sharply, self-consciously, to take his pen and paper. Kay’s hand reached the pad first, flat, and blocked him.
    She decided on a bigger question: ‘What’s the Bureau of Appearances doing about me?’
    ‘Doing?’
    ‘Don’t you want to review my placement at the house? Has there been any word about me from outside the city? What’s my legal status? Am I still being classified as an Appeared, or do I have full temporary residency? I was promised some things.’
    ‘Not,’ he replied, leaning forward and licking sandwich flecks from his lips, ‘by me. Candida is like another country; we do things differently here.’
    ‘Can I visit the Bureau? Can I review my records there?’
    ‘Sure. Why not? Swing by when I’m free.’
    ‘Can I leave the city yet?’
    ‘You’re welcome to try.’
    ‘Why does no-one take me seriously? Talking to you right now is not helpful.’
    ‘Okay, I could show you the Bureau now if you want. I can show you everything.’
    ‘I bet.’ She imagined he thought she was flirting, and she was happy to leave him that impression.
    The wind made a low pass across the square, set flames rippling and touched her legs. She’d dressed in a white blouse and skirt that she’d bought from one of the stalls in the market run. A purple flower lodged in her hair and refused to be shifted by the air. She distracted herself from the cold by unclipping the purse she wore round her neck and opening its contents onto the table. Brittle brown note-flakes rained down on the top. Some were so crumbled they fell as sand.
    ‘My money keeps doing this,’ she complained.
    ‘Quick then, you’d better spend it,’ Esteban advised. He picked up the remains of his sandwich and took a mouthful, chewing it contentedly as the wind picked at the worthless money-specks and cast them from the table.
    So her purse was emptied and she lined up her bottles – both clear and coloured – along the windowsill of Esteban’s flat. She was already halfway drunk, as the storeholders had insisted she sample shots for free, but she kept it concealed from her host by pacing her movements and speech deliberately slow. It always paid to appear in control. They’d bought enough for a modest two-handed party, and Esteban had delightedly led her back to his dingy home on the top floor of a tenement on the edge of town. This was an official residence, apparently. It was comfortable and intimate, just as Azure’s room was comfortable and intimate, but this was a thoroughly male space with a stale masculine odour.
    ‘Studenty,’ she pronounced.
    But it was open. She could breathe here in a way she couldn’t in the old free house.
    Esteban kept his furniture and effects comparatively neat, but there was dust everywhere, dust and pin-ups, though he spent a first twitchy minute leaping around the room unpicking the worst examples from the wall. A mannequin – bald and female – was posted vigilant at the window, dressed in a heavy bearskin coat. Kay sat on a chair beside her, close to female company. Esteban plumped for the chair at the desk and studied Kay as she unlaced and shed her boots. The bed, close by, was tucked and made neater than the cots in Azure’s rooms