As Far as You Can Go by Lesley Glaister Read Free Book Online

lifts the curtain to look out, nothing but scratchy twigs jammed against the glass. ‘I wanted to ask you, I was reading about, you know redbacks and funnel-webs.’
    ‘Don’t get funnel-webs here.’
    Cassie lets the curtain fall back, and turns. ‘No, but what do you do in an, um, emergency?’
    ‘We cope.’
    ‘Presumably you radio for help?’
    ‘We don’t have a radio here,’ Larry says. ‘And anyway
I’m
a doctor.’
    ‘You?
’ Cassie stares. ‘You never said.’
    He shakes his head and tuts. ‘You didn’t ask!’ He smiles. ‘So you see, you’ve nothing to worry about. By the way, do notice the fire sensor.’ He indicates a small box attached to the ceiling. ‘You’ll see we’ve got them everywhere. Obviously, there’s no fire brigade round the corner. But there are extinguishers. Familiarise yourself with their whereabouts, please.’
    ‘But no radio?’
    ‘I think you would do well to unpack. Wash, get settled in. It’s getting dark.’ Larry flicks a match to the candle. ‘You’ll need more candles – pantry. There’s a lamp in the kitchen you can bring back with you. Top of the the fridge. Electricity doesn’t extend over here. Used to –’ he indicates a switch by the door, ‘but that was in the old days. While this was still a working operation. I’ll put your supper on the table. I’ll leave you to have it in peace. And see you in the morning. I’ve got things to do. And, tomorrow you really
will
meet Mara.’ He smiles and closes the door behind him.
    ‘Well,’ Graham says. ‘Here we go then. Operation Cassie.’
    ‘Don’t,’
she says. ‘No
radio
?’
    ‘Right now,’ Graham stretches and yawns. ‘I don’t give a shit.’
    ‘No proper bathroom. He never told me that!’ She unfastens her rucksack and takes out her washbag. The familiar candy-pink stripes make her want to cry.
    Graham touches her on the shoulder. ‘Hey?’
    ‘It’s OK, isn’t it?’ She tilts back her head to stop the stupid tears that have risen like hot beads behind her eyes.
    ‘It’s cool. More or less our own place.’
    ‘S’pose.’ She presses her lips together, waits for the wave of self-pity to subside. Just tiredness. Exhaustion. She sniffs and delves down in her rucksack, pulling out knickers, books, T-shirts, until she finds two small framed photos: one of her parents, arm in arm, taken a year before her dad died; one ofPatsy with baby Katie. She stands them on top of the chest of drawers. She fishes out the mirror that was her gran’s. Wrapped up in a fleece and not broken. An oval hand-mirror, black, lacquered with purple pansies. She and Patsy had fought over it for ages when they were children, but she had won. She peers at her tired face for a moment and puts it down. ‘There.’
    Graham laughs. ‘Anything else in there?’
    ‘Just making it more homey.’ She bites her tongue. He’s allergic to that word. ‘At least he’s a doctor,’ she says. ‘That makes me feel safer.’ She sits down on the bed. The mattress is soft. She bounces a bit, squealing the springs. ‘I do like the room. No electricity though.’ She takes off her sandals and lies down beside him. They tumble in towards each other.
    ‘Crap mattress,’ he says, enclosing her in his arms.
    ‘We should go and eat.’
    ‘Let’s just rest a minute.’
    She feels fuzzy, light-headed, the horizontal position claiming her, reminding her body about all the sleep it has missed. They press themselves together. His familiar body feels so right and comforting. In and out in all the right places. His breath is sour but it is still his breath and she holds him tight, her face against his neck, looking over his shoulder at the outline of the window, fast disappearing in the dying light.
    ‘Listen,’ Graham murmurs, his breath tickling her ear.
    She listens. ‘What?’
    ‘Nothing. That’s just it.
Fuck all
. Silence.’
    She hears it. There
are
sounds – a creaking from the pump, the hum of the generator,