Read Online Full Dark House by Christopher Fowler - Free Book Online
Authors: Christopher Fowler
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your father.’
‘Not in the legal sense. Thirteen years, if you must know. We can still have children.’
‘Vile thought. I’m surprised he still has the ability after working in the radiography department for so long. They all get tired sperm. And you’ll be working for him, which won’t be healthy.’
‘I’ve worked for him before. He’s the best there is.’
Bryant pulled his scarf over his ears and threw it onto the bunk by the door. Atherton, Crowhurst and Runcorn were seated glumly beside one another, reminding May of a Victorian souvenir brought back from an unfashionable resort. ‘Do sit down and relax, John. You’re going to be seeing a lot of this place.’ Bryant turned to Forthright. ‘You’ll have no one to take you to the flicks, old sausage. I hear Longbright hates picture palaces.’
‘You might as well face the fact,’ she ran a crimson fingernail over the permanently windswept tufts of Bryant’s hair, ‘you’ve run out of ways to stop me leaving.’
‘You’re the only one who knows how I like things,’ Bryant wheedled.
‘Mr May will soon learn to cope with your foibles. He can be the other half of your brain from now on, can’t you, Mr May?’ She patted a smudge of soot from Bryant’s collar. There was a dull smokiness to the afternoon air of London that hung in the clothes these days, as though someone was constantly lighting bonfires. ‘It’s about time you treated yourself to some new shirt cuffs. I’d have sent you a formal invitation to the wedding, but it’s in a register office and I know you don’t approve.’ Forthright’s eyes twinkled. ‘It’s a pity. There wouldn’t have been anything nicer than to see your funny little face peering over the top of a hired morning suit.’
Bryant flopped back his hair and gave her a helpless look.
‘He’s all yours, Mr May.’ Forthright pulled off her police sweater, and nearly took their eyes out. ‘I have to get changed. That’s the all-clear. Arthur, why don’t you go and keep an eye on your other new recruit?’
Bryant brightened a little. ‘Making his life a living hell might cheer me up. He’s taking a long time with that tea. You don’t suppose he’s been flattened? This is for you, by the way.’ He produced a badly wrapped package from his coat and passed it to her. The red ribbon slipped from the brown paper the moment Forthright touched it.
‘Oh, Arthur.’ She looked down at the dog-eared copy of
Bleak House
. He had brought it with him from the office, the only item he felt was worth protecting. It was Bryant’s favourite book, the ancient edition his father had bought for him in Paternoster Row, the one he always kept above his desk. She knew how much it meant to him. Curling the ribbon round her fingers, she slipped the roll into a pocket without thinking. ‘I am going to miss you, you know.’ She reached over and tugged the top of his ear.
Atherton had a camera with a flashbulb, and suddenly took a picture. Everyone looked surprised.
‘Go on now, bugger off,’ said Bryant, reaching for his pipe as the others started to file out. ‘Mr May and I have a lot to discuss. Someone has to explain what’s expected of him.’
Forthright went to her WVS meeting. Biddle sullenly reappeared with mugs of tea just as they were leaving the cell. Back in the unit, the young detectives settled themselves in chairs opposite one another. Bryant opened a window and tamped down his pipe.
‘Shall we risk it?’ he asked May. ‘The sun’s come out. I bet they’re copping it out in Essex.’ He cleared a small patch of his desk. ‘Everything gets so dusty.’ He held up a brochure. ‘Now this,’ he pointed to the title page, ‘is your bible. Davenport wrote it, so of course it’s gibberish, but I can give you the gen. The unit was originally planned years ago as part of something called the Central London Specialist Crimes Squad, but they received unhealthy publicity after they failed to solve the
‘Not in the legal sense. Thirteen years, if you must know. We can still have children.’
‘Vile thought. I’m surprised he still has the ability after working in the radiography department for so long. They all get tired sperm. And you’ll be working for him, which won’t be healthy.’
‘I’ve worked for him before. He’s the best there is.’
Bryant pulled his scarf over his ears and threw it onto the bunk by the door. Atherton, Crowhurst and Runcorn were seated glumly beside one another, reminding May of a Victorian souvenir brought back from an unfashionable resort. ‘Do sit down and relax, John. You’re going to be seeing a lot of this place.’ Bryant turned to Forthright. ‘You’ll have no one to take you to the flicks, old sausage. I hear Longbright hates picture palaces.’
‘You might as well face the fact,’ she ran a crimson fingernail over the permanently windswept tufts of Bryant’s hair, ‘you’ve run out of ways to stop me leaving.’
‘You’re the only one who knows how I like things,’ Bryant wheedled.
‘Mr May will soon learn to cope with your foibles. He can be the other half of your brain from now on, can’t you, Mr May?’ She patted a smudge of soot from Bryant’s collar. There was a dull smokiness to the afternoon air of London that hung in the clothes these days, as though someone was constantly lighting bonfires. ‘It’s about time you treated yourself to some new shirt cuffs. I’d have sent you a formal invitation to the wedding, but it’s in a register office and I know you don’t approve.’ Forthright’s eyes twinkled. ‘It’s a pity. There wouldn’t have been anything nicer than to see your funny little face peering over the top of a hired morning suit.’
Bryant flopped back his hair and gave her a helpless look.
‘He’s all yours, Mr May.’ Forthright pulled off her police sweater, and nearly took their eyes out. ‘I have to get changed. That’s the all-clear. Arthur, why don’t you go and keep an eye on your other new recruit?’
Bryant brightened a little. ‘Making his life a living hell might cheer me up. He’s taking a long time with that tea. You don’t suppose he’s been flattened? This is for you, by the way.’ He produced a badly wrapped package from his coat and passed it to her. The red ribbon slipped from the brown paper the moment Forthright touched it.
‘Oh, Arthur.’ She looked down at the dog-eared copy of
Bleak House
. He had brought it with him from the office, the only item he felt was worth protecting. It was Bryant’s favourite book, the ancient edition his father had bought for him in Paternoster Row, the one he always kept above his desk. She knew how much it meant to him. Curling the ribbon round her fingers, she slipped the roll into a pocket without thinking. ‘I am going to miss you, you know.’ She reached over and tugged the top of his ear.
Atherton had a camera with a flashbulb, and suddenly took a picture. Everyone looked surprised.
‘Go on now, bugger off,’ said Bryant, reaching for his pipe as the others started to file out. ‘Mr May and I have a lot to discuss. Someone has to explain what’s expected of him.’
Forthright went to her WVS meeting. Biddle sullenly reappeared with mugs of tea just as they were leaving the cell. Back in the unit, the young detectives settled themselves in chairs opposite one another. Bryant opened a window and tamped down his pipe.
‘Shall we risk it?’ he asked May. ‘The sun’s come out. I bet they’re copping it out in Essex.’ He cleared a small patch of his desk. ‘Everything gets so dusty.’ He held up a brochure. ‘Now this,’ he pointed to the title page, ‘is your bible. Davenport wrote it, so of course it’s gibberish, but I can give you the gen. The unit was originally planned years ago as part of something called the Central London Specialist Crimes Squad, but they received unhealthy publicity after they failed to solve the
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