Read Online The Hunter's Prayer by Kevin Wignall - Free Book Online
Authors: Kevin Wignall
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to read.’
‘This is a great house,’ said Chris.
‘I like it.’ He looked around, uncertain, possibly even uncomfortable. ‘Like I said, make yourselves at home. I’ll cook some pasta or something. Tomorrow I’ll make some phone calls, see how the dust has settled. Hopefully the next day I’ll take you into Zurich.’ He nodded as if to himself and walked away into the kitchen area.
Ella looked again at the unopened mail, wondering when he’d bother to look through it, when he’d check his answering machine. He gave the impression of someone who lived like a ghost, the demands of everyday life no longer registering with him.
Chris walked out onto the balcony and she followed him, looking at the view that was slowly closing down in front of them: woods turning into solid blocks of shadow, swaths of pasture floating hazily. On a clear day there were probably distant mountains but this evening the sky had fallen, smothering everything.
They stood at first without saying anything, but then Chris said, ‘I’m sorry if I haven’t been much good the last day and a half. It’s just been like one shock after another but I should have stopped to think, how it’s been . . .’ The last word caught in his throat. She turned to look at him and he smiled, clearing his throat before saying, ‘I’m just saying sorry for being a prick.’
She shook her head and held him, drawing in tighter against him as he put his arms around her. She felt like this was all she needed, all the security she needed—to stand here enfolded in his arms, his breath hot on her neck, hands gently rubbing her back.
She listened to the sound of the water dropping from the eaves and the trees, a dog’s bark carrying from a long way off, and behind them, equally faint, the comforting domestic sound of food being prepared. That was where her thoughts ran aground, because the man preparing that food was Lucas, and the sense of respite she felt here was false.
Lucas simply continued to read his book as he ate his dinner. Ella and Chris sat opposite each other further down the table, silent, and they waited till Lucas had finished before complimenting him on the meal. He thanked them and refused the offer of help with the dishes.
When he came back to them, he said, ‘Do you play chess, or backgammon?’
‘I play chess,’ said Chris. ‘We both play backgammon.’
Lucas nodded, went to a cupboard and took out a large leather backgammon board, opening it on a coffee table between the two sofas. ‘Help yourselves to drinks,’ he said and took his book to a chair on the other side of the room, close to the windows that opened out onto the balcony.
They played backgammon, almost totally ignored by Lucas. Ella couldn’t concentrate, the game not offering enough of a diversion from the thoughts waiting to grind back over her. Distant thunder sounded on and off throughout the evening and occasionally a heavier roll would cause them to stare out beyond the windows.
The storm was still hovering when Ella woke in the early hours. She’d been startled awake by a lurch in her dreams, a heaving sequence of violent flashbacks, her jaw tight when she woke, heart fighting.
She looked up at the felt blackness of the room, listened to Chris breathing next to her, remembered where she was. It was the second time she’d woken since hearing the news and already it came as less of a shock to remember what had happened, more a leaden realization that this was the truth now, that her old life had been a dream.
Hidden away there in the night, she allowed herself to think about it, picturing their faces, trying to take in that they were no longer simply far away but gone. But as soon as she thought of Ben, the tears started to gather in her eyes and she felt like she’d collapse in on herself.
Why was it Ben more than her mum and dad? She’d loved them all equally but it was his loss she felt, perhaps because it was the one she’d never once
‘This is a great house,’ said Chris.
‘I like it.’ He looked around, uncertain, possibly even uncomfortable. ‘Like I said, make yourselves at home. I’ll cook some pasta or something. Tomorrow I’ll make some phone calls, see how the dust has settled. Hopefully the next day I’ll take you into Zurich.’ He nodded as if to himself and walked away into the kitchen area.
Ella looked again at the unopened mail, wondering when he’d bother to look through it, when he’d check his answering machine. He gave the impression of someone who lived like a ghost, the demands of everyday life no longer registering with him.
Chris walked out onto the balcony and she followed him, looking at the view that was slowly closing down in front of them: woods turning into solid blocks of shadow, swaths of pasture floating hazily. On a clear day there were probably distant mountains but this evening the sky had fallen, smothering everything.
They stood at first without saying anything, but then Chris said, ‘I’m sorry if I haven’t been much good the last day and a half. It’s just been like one shock after another but I should have stopped to think, how it’s been . . .’ The last word caught in his throat. She turned to look at him and he smiled, clearing his throat before saying, ‘I’m just saying sorry for being a prick.’
She shook her head and held him, drawing in tighter against him as he put his arms around her. She felt like this was all she needed, all the security she needed—to stand here enfolded in his arms, his breath hot on her neck, hands gently rubbing her back.
She listened to the sound of the water dropping from the eaves and the trees, a dog’s bark carrying from a long way off, and behind them, equally faint, the comforting domestic sound of food being prepared. That was where her thoughts ran aground, because the man preparing that food was Lucas, and the sense of respite she felt here was false.
Lucas simply continued to read his book as he ate his dinner. Ella and Chris sat opposite each other further down the table, silent, and they waited till Lucas had finished before complimenting him on the meal. He thanked them and refused the offer of help with the dishes.
When he came back to them, he said, ‘Do you play chess, or backgammon?’
‘I play chess,’ said Chris. ‘We both play backgammon.’
Lucas nodded, went to a cupboard and took out a large leather backgammon board, opening it on a coffee table between the two sofas. ‘Help yourselves to drinks,’ he said and took his book to a chair on the other side of the room, close to the windows that opened out onto the balcony.
They played backgammon, almost totally ignored by Lucas. Ella couldn’t concentrate, the game not offering enough of a diversion from the thoughts waiting to grind back over her. Distant thunder sounded on and off throughout the evening and occasionally a heavier roll would cause them to stare out beyond the windows.
The storm was still hovering when Ella woke in the early hours. She’d been startled awake by a lurch in her dreams, a heaving sequence of violent flashbacks, her jaw tight when she woke, heart fighting.
She looked up at the felt blackness of the room, listened to Chris breathing next to her, remembered where she was. It was the second time she’d woken since hearing the news and already it came as less of a shock to remember what had happened, more a leaden realization that this was the truth now, that her old life had been a dream.
Hidden away there in the night, she allowed herself to think about it, picturing their faces, trying to take in that they were no longer simply far away but gone. But as soon as she thought of Ben, the tears started to gather in her eyes and she felt like she’d collapse in on herself.
Why was it Ben more than her mum and dad? She’d loved them all equally but it was his loss she felt, perhaps because it was the one she’d never once
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