Read Online The Book of Evidence by John Banville - Free Book Online Page A

and for s o m e reason I was convinced that she was still wearing her j o d h p u r s and her b a g g y pullover, and even her riding boots. She said nothing, only smiled at me in fright, and for a wild m o m e n t I considered climbing in beside her, shoes and all, so that n o w she might cradle my p o o r whirling head in her p l u m p y o u n g a c c o m m o d a t i n g arm. I had not really noticcd before her extraordinary flame-red hair, the sight of it spread out on the pillow in the lamplight almost m a d e me cry. Then the m o m e n t was gone, and with a grave n o d I withdrew silently, like an old sad grey fading ghost, and marched at a careful, dignified pace across the landing to the r o o m where a bed had been m a d e up for me. There I discovered that somewhere along the w a y I had mislaid the port.
    I sat on the side of the bed, arms dangling between my knees, and was suddenly exhausted. My head fizzed, my eyes burned, but yet I could not m a k e myself lie d o w n to sleep. I might have been a child c o m e h o m e after a day of wild excursions. I had travelled far. Slowly, with underwater m o v e m e n t s , I untied my shoelaces. O n e shoe dropped, and then —

    I WOKE WITH A DREADFUL START , m y ears r i n g i n g , as i f there had been an e x p l o s i o n in my head. A d r e a m : s o m e t h i n g a b o u t m e a t . It w a s light, b u t w h e t h e r it w a s d a w n or still dusk I w a s n o t sure. G r e y . N o r did I k n o w w h e r e I w a s .
    E v e n w h e n I realised it w a s C o o l g r a n g e I did not recognise the r o o m at first. V e r y h i g h and. l o n g , w i t h lofty w i n d o w s that c a m e d o w n to the floor. S h a b b y , t o o , in a peculiar, o f f e n d e d w a y , a s i f i t w e r e conscious o f o n c e h a v i n g been an i m p o r t a n t place. I g o t up carefully f r o m the b e d and w e n t a n d l o o k e d d o w n a t the l a w n . T h e grass w a s g r e y , and there w e r e p i g e o n - c o l o u r e d s h a d o w s u n d e r the trees.
    M y brain t h u d d e d . I t m u s t b e d a w n : i n the o a k w o o d , under an iron sky, a solitary bird w a s testing o u t the lightening air w i t h a single repeated flute-note. I pressed m y f o r e h e a d against the w i n d o w - p a n e , a n d shivered a t the c l a m m y , cold t o u c h of the glass. I h a d been travelling f o r the best part of a w e e k , w i t h scant f o o d and t o o m u c h alcohol, a n d n o w it w a s all catching up w i t h m e . 1 felt sick, s o d d e n , r e a m e d . M y eyelids w e r e scalding, m y spit tasted of ash. It s e e m e d to me the g a r d e n w a s w a t c h i n g m e , in its stealthy, tightlipped w a y , or that it w a s at least s o m e h o w a w a r e o f m e , f r a m e d here i n the w i n d o w , w r i n g i n g m y 53

    hands, a strickcn starer-out — h o w m a n y other such there must have been, d o w n the years! — with the r o o m ' s weightless dark pressing at my back. I had slept in my clothcs.
    T h e d r e a m . ( T h e court will need to hear a b o u t my dreams.) It c a m e back to me suddenly. N o t h i n g very m u c h happened in it. My d r e a m s are not the riotous t u m b l e of events that others claim to enjoy, but states of feeling, rather, m o o d s , particular h u m o u r s , gusts o f e m o t i o n , a c c o m p a n i e d often by e x t r e m e physical effects: I weep, or thrash my limbs, grind my teeth, laugh, cry out. On this occasion it had been a d r y retching, the ache in my throat w h e n I w o k e w a s w h a t b r o u g h t it back to m e . I had d r e a m e d I w a s g n a w i n g the r i p p e d - o u t sternum of s o m e creature, possibly h u m a n . It seemed to have been parboiled, for the m e a t on it w a s soft and white. B a r e l y w a r m n o w , i t c r u m b l e d i n m y m o u t h like suet, m a k i n g me g a g . Believe m e , y o u r lordship, I do not enjoy relating these things any m o r e