Boneland by Alan Garner Read Free Book Online Page B

they ought. The maths was right ‘—Io son pu-re, il tuo fedel-e—’ So elegant. ‘—Rum-ti-titi-pom-ti. Rum-ti-titi-pomti. Ti-pom-ti!’
    Colin sat and looked at what he had done. The quarry was quiet.
    A noise broke in. He twisted towards the entrance. It was the sound of a machine, an engine, coughing and struggling over the ground. A motorbike appeared at the entrance, black, with high handlebars, black, and the rider was all in black leathers, gauntlets, helmet and visor. It came towards him across the quarry floor. Colin hugged the drum and shuffled away.
    ‘No.’
    It came nearer.
    ‘No.’
    It stopped. The rider cut the engine, and a gauntlet lifted the visor.
    ‘Hi,’ said Meg.
    ‘What are you doing here? What do you want?’
    ‘I did ring, sweetie, but you weren’t answering. I thought I’d check out your lair. Have I disturbed you?’
    ‘No. No,’ said Colin. ‘I don’t like surprises, that’s all. Sorry.’
    ‘Don’t apologise. How many times do I have to say it?’
    ‘Sorry,’ said Colin. He got up. ‘Please come in.’
    Meg dismounted, took off the helmet and shook her hair.
    ‘What are you at?’ she said.
    ‘I’m making two parabolic dishes. Do come in.’
    They went to the hut.
    Meg looked around. ‘Hey, this is something else.’
    ‘Would you like tea?’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘Earl Grey or Lapsang Souchong?’
    ‘I’ll pass on the scented muck. Plain builder’s with milk, if you have it,’ said Meg. ‘And no sugar.’
    ‘I think I can do that,’ said Colin.
    He lit a Primus stove and filled a kettle.
    ‘Bert told me there wasn’t electricity,’ said Meg.
    ‘I have enough electricity at work. And those harsh lights. I keep a wind-up torch, batteries and a generator for emergencies.’
    ‘Great. What a place, Colin. How did you find this? Suburgatory it is not.’
    ‘I built it.’
    ‘Built it? By yourself?’
    ‘From a kit. It’s a mountain hut. A Bergli. I ordered it from Switzerland.’
    ‘These flag floors aren’t Swiss.’
    ‘No. They were under the grass. All I had to do was level them. Someone must have been here before me. And there was a rock garden of sorts at one time; which is why there are those blasted rhododendrons. But I’m clearing them, bit by bit. I hate rhododendrons.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘They’re alien. Wrong. Evil. They shouldn’t be allowed.’
    ‘Why do you live here?’
    ‘Why shouldn’t I?’
    ‘Fair question, dodgy answer. So why?’
    ‘Someone has to look after the Edge. There always is someone; always has been.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘He’s everywhere,’ said Colin. ‘If you look, you see. His face. He’s obvious, in the rock, once you get your eye in.’
    ‘“He”?’ said Meg.
    ‘Always.’
    ‘So why you?’
    ‘It’s the only way I can be sure the Edge stays,’ said Colin.
    ‘Stays where?’
    ‘Exists.’
    ‘Tell me,’ said Meg.
    ‘I have to be able to see the Edge from wherever I am,’ said Colin; ‘in order to keep it. If something isn’t looked at it may go, or change, or never be.’
    ‘Isn’t that tampering with the metaphysical?’ said Meg. ‘The same argument used to “prove” the existence of God. “Since we know there’s a sea over the mountain, someone must be observing the sea, the mountain and us. Ergo God.”’
    ‘But do we “know”?’ said Colin.
    ‘Well, if I’ve booked a flight to a conference in LA and when I get there the runway hasn’t been built, I’m going to be pretty hacked off.’
    ‘I never fly.’
    ‘Come on,’ said Meg. ‘You can do better than that.’
    ‘It’s more subtle now we have quantum mechanics. You must be aware that matter can be in two places and in two states at the same instant, as both a particle and a wave. Yes?’
    ‘I did get that far. Once upon a time.’
    ‘And if we look at it, if that matter is observed, it can change. The very act of observing makes it change. It’s not quite as simple as I’m expressing it; but that’s why I