noticing as he did so that the plastic frame was just starting to melt. ‘Any suggestions?’ he muttered.
‘Well.’ Sandra helped herself to a planklike slice of bread and butter. ‘At first I thought of seeing if we could get you a job as a lighthouse keeper . . .’
‘Good thinking.’
‘Only that would take some time to fix up, and we’ve got to keep you out of sight until I’ve had a chance to find out exactly what’s going on. Really, your best bet is to stay here and sweat it out.’
‘Sandra . . .’
‘What choice do you have?’
‘Yes, but that mother of yours. I mean, please don’t get me wrong, salt of the earth . . .’
‘If by that you mean she makes you feel like having a very big drink, yes, I find that myself, too.’
‘It wouldn’t be so bad,’ Osiris said mournfully, ‘if only she’d admit I was here. Actually talk to me, things like that.’
Sandra nodded. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I reckon it might be possible to get her to do that.’
‘Oh yes? How?’
‘You could try offering her a very substantial sum of money.’
Even with Sandra’s mother talking to him, Osiris found it hard to settle. True, he now had his own room, with a view out over the shunting yards and a small black-and-white portable television capable of receiving two channels; but the waves of disbelief were definitely getting to him, and he didn’t like the effect it was having. Twice he’d dropped things because his hands suddenly became translucent and feeble, and he was getting pins and needles all over his body. He scarcely had the strength to wheel himself over to the telly to change programmes.
Never mind. He looked up at the clock, which told him it was almost time for TheYoung Doctors . Soap operas were something of a lifeline to him, on the grounds that if the inhabitants of this peculiar country could watch this sort of thing without serious credibility disorders, they were capable of believing in anything. He switched on the set and settled back in his chair.
Adverts. Was there time to plug in the kettle and make himself a nice cup of . . . ?
He knew that voice.
... Absolutely free when you buy two or more packets of new Zazz with the unique biological fragrance . . .
Surely not. He must have retired years ago. Only, Osiris reflected, if he had then surely I’d have seen him about the place, and I haven’t. And nobody could call him inconspicuous.
But hurry, hurry, hurry, because this special offer must end soon, so don’t miss out on this unique chance to save, save, save . . .
It was him, for sure. Osiris could tell by the way that, in spite of everything, he was gripped with this insane desire to buy fabric conditioner. Not because he wanted it, but because he was afraid of missing out on the unique special offer. Very afraid. Panic-stricken, even.
‘The old bugger,’ Osiris chuckled. ‘Well, fancy that.’
‘Guess what?’
‘I’ve brought you some tea,’ said Sandra, putting the tray down on the bed. ‘It’s boiled chicken with cabbage and mashed potatoes, with stewed plums and custard to follow.’
Osiris looked away. ‘I’ve just seen someone I know, well, more heard than seen, and you’ll never guess—’
‘Come on,’ Sandra said, ‘eat up. Don’t want the custard getting—’
‘And,’ Osiris went on, ‘I’ve made up my mind what I’m going to do next.’
Sandra narrowed her eyes. ‘I don’t like the sound of this,’ she said. ‘I thought we’d agreed that you were going to be sensible and stay here until we’d got things straightened out.’
‘Ah yes,’ Osiris said, ‘but that was before I found out my old friend Pan’s still on the loose.’ He produced a theatrical chuckle. ‘Talk about a complete lunatic, the times we’ve had together, it’ll be a holiday just—’
‘Pan?’
Osiris took a deep breath. ‘He’s a god,’ he said. ‘And he’s doing voice-overs on the commercial breaks. Obviously he hasn’t retired
‘Well.’ Sandra helped herself to a planklike slice of bread and butter. ‘At first I thought of seeing if we could get you a job as a lighthouse keeper . . .’
‘Good thinking.’
‘Only that would take some time to fix up, and we’ve got to keep you out of sight until I’ve had a chance to find out exactly what’s going on. Really, your best bet is to stay here and sweat it out.’
‘Sandra . . .’
‘What choice do you have?’
‘Yes, but that mother of yours. I mean, please don’t get me wrong, salt of the earth . . .’
‘If by that you mean she makes you feel like having a very big drink, yes, I find that myself, too.’
‘It wouldn’t be so bad,’ Osiris said mournfully, ‘if only she’d admit I was here. Actually talk to me, things like that.’
Sandra nodded. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I reckon it might be possible to get her to do that.’
‘Oh yes? How?’
‘You could try offering her a very substantial sum of money.’
Even with Sandra’s mother talking to him, Osiris found it hard to settle. True, he now had his own room, with a view out over the shunting yards and a small black-and-white portable television capable of receiving two channels; but the waves of disbelief were definitely getting to him, and he didn’t like the effect it was having. Twice he’d dropped things because his hands suddenly became translucent and feeble, and he was getting pins and needles all over his body. He scarcely had the strength to wheel himself over to the telly to change programmes.
Never mind. He looked up at the clock, which told him it was almost time for TheYoung Doctors . Soap operas were something of a lifeline to him, on the grounds that if the inhabitants of this peculiar country could watch this sort of thing without serious credibility disorders, they were capable of believing in anything. He switched on the set and settled back in his chair.
Adverts. Was there time to plug in the kettle and make himself a nice cup of . . . ?
He knew that voice.
... Absolutely free when you buy two or more packets of new Zazz with the unique biological fragrance . . .
Surely not. He must have retired years ago. Only, Osiris reflected, if he had then surely I’d have seen him about the place, and I haven’t. And nobody could call him inconspicuous.
But hurry, hurry, hurry, because this special offer must end soon, so don’t miss out on this unique chance to save, save, save . . .
It was him, for sure. Osiris could tell by the way that, in spite of everything, he was gripped with this insane desire to buy fabric conditioner. Not because he wanted it, but because he was afraid of missing out on the unique special offer. Very afraid. Panic-stricken, even.
‘The old bugger,’ Osiris chuckled. ‘Well, fancy that.’
‘Guess what?’
‘I’ve brought you some tea,’ said Sandra, putting the tray down on the bed. ‘It’s boiled chicken with cabbage and mashed potatoes, with stewed plums and custard to follow.’
Osiris looked away. ‘I’ve just seen someone I know, well, more heard than seen, and you’ll never guess—’
‘Come on,’ Sandra said, ‘eat up. Don’t want the custard getting—’
‘And,’ Osiris went on, ‘I’ve made up my mind what I’m going to do next.’
Sandra narrowed her eyes. ‘I don’t like the sound of this,’ she said. ‘I thought we’d agreed that you were going to be sensible and stay here until we’d got things straightened out.’
‘Ah yes,’ Osiris said, ‘but that was before I found out my old friend Pan’s still on the loose.’ He produced a theatrical chuckle. ‘Talk about a complete lunatic, the times we’ve had together, it’ll be a holiday just—’
‘Pan?’
Osiris took a deep breath. ‘He’s a god,’ he said. ‘And he’s doing voice-overs on the commercial breaks. Obviously he hasn’t retired
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