that the bottle falls, defeated, on the grass.
“My aunt and uncle...”
I can’t shake off my bewilderment. I don’t even try to figure out who these strange people are. I’d give anything to be able to sleep, to go to sleep and finally forget all this craziness.
“The hotel is closed,” I whisper.
“Of course,” says the man dancing with me. Only then do I realize that although the music has stopped he hasn’t let go of me. “For us it’s closed, but if you came all dolled up like them, they’d let you in.”
I look at him, utterly lost.
“If you ask me, you’re the prettiest. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. If it was my hotel I’d let you in.”
His toothless smile makes me grimace, which he evidently interprets as pleasure, since he squeezes me even more tightly.
“Here’s what I think of all your swanky stuff!” shouts the man who was playing the accordion.
He goes over to the railing of the bandstand and throws an arm around the guy who threw the bottle. Then comes a sort of long inhaled groan, and a huge gob of spit takes flight.
“You’re too far away!” yells the one with the guitar. “You gotta get closer.”
The one who just spat leans halfway out of the bandstand.
“I’ll land one right on that high-falutin’ doorman’s lapel!” he shouts, triumphant.
The others laugh wildly as he prepares for a second try.
“ What doorman?” I ask in exasperation, still trying to get away from my dance partner.
“The one on the right, with his hair all slicked back,” yells the guitarist, without leaving his post.
I still haven’t managed to get free. A shout comes bursting out from deep within me. “Are you all crazy ? It’s abandoned! The hotel’s abandoned! Are you blind, or what? Can’t you see the boards over the windows?”
As soon as the last word leaves my lips I realize my mistake. All the empty-socket faces swivel towards me. I look frantically around for an escape and my heart starts racing. I’m right in the middle of the bandstand, and if I try to make a run for it someone will stop me. Plus I’m still trapped in the wooden embrace of my dance partner.
He lets me go. He clutches his head and walks away, dragging his feet. They all put their instruments down and go into a kind of sorrowful trance. It seems like what I said didn’t make them angry, only deeply sad. The gypsy woman shakes her head in disapproval.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to... I didn’t want... The last few hours have just been horrible.”
The gypsy goes on shaking her head. I go to leave, but she takes me by the hand and leads me over to a little table with two chairs. I try to resist but she pulls insistently until I sit down.
“Poor thing! You just got here, that’s why you’re confused.”
“No, no, that’s not it. I know St Andrews. We’ve been here a few days already.”
The woman’s plump face tilts to one side, like a dog when it hears a strange noise.
“The hotel was open this morning, there were people there,” I insist. “A whole lot of things were different. I mean—everything was different.”
I bury my face in my hands, dejected. I wonder if my sanity is gone forever.
“Very strange things are happening, yes,” says the woman softly, so that the others can’t hear her.
My head pops back up like it’s on a spring. Maybe—strange as it all seems—there’s some explanation for this.
“So you don’t think I’m crazy? You believe me?”
The gypsy nods almost imperceptibly.
“Do you know what happened? Can you explain it to me?” My questions flicker across my face. “My family disappeared.”
“The shadow,” murmurs the gypsy. “Dark times are coming...” she lifts a finger to her lips, telling me to keep all of this secret. “Cruelty like the Sphere has never known. The shadow... Only a few of us have seen it, and I’m afraid you’ve got the bad luck to be among us.”
“ Us? ”
“We who have seen the shadow.”
“I
“My aunt and uncle...”
I can’t shake off my bewilderment. I don’t even try to figure out who these strange people are. I’d give anything to be able to sleep, to go to sleep and finally forget all this craziness.
“The hotel is closed,” I whisper.
“Of course,” says the man dancing with me. Only then do I realize that although the music has stopped he hasn’t let go of me. “For us it’s closed, but if you came all dolled up like them, they’d let you in.”
I look at him, utterly lost.
“If you ask me, you’re the prettiest. I mean it from the bottom of my heart. If it was my hotel I’d let you in.”
His toothless smile makes me grimace, which he evidently interprets as pleasure, since he squeezes me even more tightly.
“Here’s what I think of all your swanky stuff!” shouts the man who was playing the accordion.
He goes over to the railing of the bandstand and throws an arm around the guy who threw the bottle. Then comes a sort of long inhaled groan, and a huge gob of spit takes flight.
“You’re too far away!” yells the one with the guitar. “You gotta get closer.”
The one who just spat leans halfway out of the bandstand.
“I’ll land one right on that high-falutin’ doorman’s lapel!” he shouts, triumphant.
The others laugh wildly as he prepares for a second try.
“ What doorman?” I ask in exasperation, still trying to get away from my dance partner.
“The one on the right, with his hair all slicked back,” yells the guitarist, without leaving his post.
I still haven’t managed to get free. A shout comes bursting out from deep within me. “Are you all crazy ? It’s abandoned! The hotel’s abandoned! Are you blind, or what? Can’t you see the boards over the windows?”
As soon as the last word leaves my lips I realize my mistake. All the empty-socket faces swivel towards me. I look frantically around for an escape and my heart starts racing. I’m right in the middle of the bandstand, and if I try to make a run for it someone will stop me. Plus I’m still trapped in the wooden embrace of my dance partner.
He lets me go. He clutches his head and walks away, dragging his feet. They all put their instruments down and go into a kind of sorrowful trance. It seems like what I said didn’t make them angry, only deeply sad. The gypsy woman shakes her head in disapproval.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to... I didn’t want... The last few hours have just been horrible.”
The gypsy goes on shaking her head. I go to leave, but she takes me by the hand and leads me over to a little table with two chairs. I try to resist but she pulls insistently until I sit down.
“Poor thing! You just got here, that’s why you’re confused.”
“No, no, that’s not it. I know St Andrews. We’ve been here a few days already.”
The woman’s plump face tilts to one side, like a dog when it hears a strange noise.
“The hotel was open this morning, there were people there,” I insist. “A whole lot of things were different. I mean—everything was different.”
I bury my face in my hands, dejected. I wonder if my sanity is gone forever.
“Very strange things are happening, yes,” says the woman softly, so that the others can’t hear her.
My head pops back up like it’s on a spring. Maybe—strange as it all seems—there’s some explanation for this.
“So you don’t think I’m crazy? You believe me?”
The gypsy nods almost imperceptibly.
“Do you know what happened? Can you explain it to me?” My questions flicker across my face. “My family disappeared.”
“The shadow,” murmurs the gypsy. “Dark times are coming...” she lifts a finger to her lips, telling me to keep all of this secret. “Cruelty like the Sphere has never known. The shadow... Only a few of us have seen it, and I’m afraid you’ve got the bad luck to be among us.”
“ Us? ”
“We who have seen the shadow.”
“I
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