A Distant Shore by Caryl Phillips Read Free Book Online

the worst voice in the world. Or the time I entered the school swimming races, but forgot to tell anybody that I couldn’t swim. I agreed to give her the money to go to London, where she was sure she could get a job, and in the morning she gave me that grin of hers and I waved my sister goodbye and watched her walk out of our lives. Once Sheila reached London, silence reigned between her and “home.” In the first few years after college, I found reasons to go to London occasionally, either by myself or with Brian, and in this way I kept in some kind of contact with Sheila. But I never told Mum or Dad, for fear of upsetting them, and then, without really understanding why, Sheila and I just drifted apart. And now a letter on my mantelpiece. A single letter asking for what?
    I make myself a cup of tea, pick up the letter and then sit in the chair by the window that Solomon was sitting in. I look out into the cul-de-sac and can see that the moon is lighting up the street, so that tonight there’s really no need for street lights. There’s no movement behind Solomon’s blinds and I imagine that he must be out on his patrol. I try to imagine the inside of his bungalow and assume that it’s probably as impossibly neat and tidy as he is, but I’ve no way of knowing this. The letter lies ominously in my hands and I understand that at some point I’ll have to open it. I feel myself falling asleep in the chair, caught between the need to get some rest and the desire to discover what has happened to my sister’s life. However, even as my head grows heavy on my shoulders, I can already feel the responsibility of having Sheila back in my life.
    In the morning I wake up in the same place with the pages of Sheila’s letter scattered about me like confetti. My neck aches from the awkward way in which I’ve been resting it on the edge of the chair, and I immediately recognise that I’m in some pain. But there is also another feeling, although I’ve no words to describe it. I glance out of the window, half-hoping to find Solomon washing his car, but there is nobody in sight. Then I understand the strange feeling that has come over me. Loneliness. Carla won’t be coming today. I stare at the piano and realise that music lessons won’t help me today, but before I fall into any kind of depression I know what I’ve got to do. I’ve seen enough programmes on the television about this condition, and I’ve read enough articles. I know that I’ve got to go out, and so I decide to take a shower and dress quickly before my mind can absorb any more thoughts.
    The woman in the newsagent’s shop at the bottom of the hill knows me. In fact, I get the impression that she knows everybody, and their business. She beams at me and I wonder if she reserves this particularly foolish expression for me, or if she uses it for all of us from up the hill. She always breaks off her conversation with whatever customer she’s dealing with so that she can take care of me. Today I buy a newspaper and a few groceries, and this gives her the opportunity to say, “So I take it you’ll not be going into town today then?” I beam back in her direction.
    “No, I won’t.”
    “Lessons?” she asks. “Has the card in the window brought you any luck?”
    I’m sure she knows that only Carla has materialised as a result of the card, and now there’s nobody.
    “I’ve had some promising phone calls.” I say this in a manner which lets her know that there’s nothing further to be said on the matter. The other woman stands in the shop and looks at me with a kind of pity. There’s something about her which makes me angry. She has no right to be staring at me in this way, let alone thinking whatever it is that she’s thinking. I take my change and turn from the pair of them. I hear the doorbell tinkle as I walk out, but I also feel their eyes upon my back and I know that as soon as the door closes their conversation will resume. It will be a highly