Read Online Through Dead Eyes by Chris Priestley - Free Book Online Page B

and dropping one on the floor.
    ‘You should knock,’ said Alex, picking them up.
    ‘Why?’ said his father. ‘What are you up to?’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Alex. ‘That’s not the point.’
    ‘All right,’ said his father. ‘Don’t get all stroppy about it. I’ll knock next time, OK?’
    Alex grunted and put the postcards on the chest of drawers. His father leaned over and looked at them.
    ‘What are these?’ he asked, picking one up and peering at it.
    ‘Just some postcards,’ said Alex. ‘Angelien took me to the Rijksmuseum today.’
    ‘Really?’ said his father, his eyebrows arching. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that was your thing.’
    Alex’s mind was still struggling to cope with the idea of the former contents of the room being drawn back somehow.
    ‘I’m interested in loads of things you don’t know about,’ said Alex. ‘Just because it isn’t World War Two. Anyway, Angelien makes it interesting.’
    ‘Oh,’ said his father, nodding his head and smiling. ‘I see.’
    ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Alex.
    ‘Nothing,’ said his father. ‘Are you OK?’
    ‘Me? Yeah,’ said Alex. ‘Sorry.’
    ‘That’s OK. Come on. Let’s go. I’m starving.’
     
    The restaurant was in a small street off the Prinsengracht and was small and cave-like. There were very few tables but all were occupied, mainly by earnest-looking couples lit by the glow of tea lights. At the far end of the room, he could see Saskia waving. Angelien turned to face them, smiling.
    ‘Hello again,’ said Saskia. ‘Sit down, sit down. They’d put us over by the door but there was such a chilly draught I got them to move us over here.’
    ‘Any further,’ said Alex’s father. ‘And we’d be in the kitchen cooking the food.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ said Saskia. ‘I love being near the kitchen in a restaurant. I love to smell all the aromas and hear the sizzle of the food being cooked.’
    She said these words looking straight at Alex and he smiled, not really knowing what to say in response.
    ‘How did you enjoy yourself today?’ said Saskia. ‘I hear my daughter took you to the Rijksmuseum. Do you like art, Alex?’
    Alex cast a quick glance at his father.
    ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I do like paintings. I like a bit more colour though.’
    Saskia chuckled.
    Alex’s mind was pulled back to the postcards. He needed to talk to Angelien.
    ‘They can be a little sombre, it’s true,’ Saskia said. ‘But if you like colour you should get Angelien to take you to the Van Gogh museum, Alex. Do you like Van Gogh?’
    ‘That’s the way they pronounce Van Gogh’s name here,’ said Alex’s father, seeing his son’s puzzled face. ‘Van “Hoch” – like Lo ch Ness.’
    ‘It’s not how we pronounce it here,’ said Saskia frowning. ‘It is how his name should be pronounced. Not “Van Goff” or “Van Go”. It is not so hard to pronounce a man’s name correctly, is it?’
    ‘Wine?’ said the waitress as she came over.
    ‘Oh – whatever you’re drinking, Saskia,’ said Alex’s father.
    ‘Another glass of Sangiovese,’ said Saskia. ‘And what about you, Alex. Coke? Juice?’
    ‘No thanks,’ said Alex. ‘Water’s fine. I’m really thirsty.’
    The waitress handed them the menus and pointed to the specials of the day on a large blackboard nearby. Alex peered at the board, looking for words he understood.
    ‘Jeremy tells me you bought a mask in the antiques market?’ said Saskia, when they had ordered their food.
    ‘Yes,’ said Alex, glancing at Angelien.
    Alex’s father sighed and shook his head.
    ‘What were you thinking of, letting Alex buy that thing, Angelien?’ he said without looking up from the menu. ‘What a waste of money.’
    ‘Actually,’ said Angelien. ‘I’m not an expert but I think Alex may have got a bargain. It looks like it might be a very old Japanese noh mask. I think it may be worth a lot more than twenty euros.’
    Alex’s father smiled and shook his