Corbenic by Catherine Fisher Read Free Book Online Page B

this. Then, somewhere behind it all there was a voice, calling. “Who’s that?” he said instantly.
    She stopped, confused. “What? What do I do about the bin?”
    â€œPut it out for the men. On Thursday.” He was panicky; suddenly the image of the overflowing dustbin made him sweat. He should have sorted it before he came, but then it would be like that every week now, wouldn’t it, and he couldn’t stay there anymore, he couldn’t stand it.
    â€œAre you coming back?” she whispered, as if she’d heard.
    â€œIn a few weeks. For the weekend. I promise. Who’s there with you?” It might be some man. But she said, “Sally.” Relief flooded him. “Put her on, will you.”
    â€œI love you, Cal.”
    He nodded grimly. “Put Sally on, Mam, please.”
    There was a crackle, a clatter. Then Sally said, “Hi, Cal.”
    â€œIs she all right?” he asked, numb.
    â€œNot so good. She came banging on the door early hours of this morning so I came in and got her to bed. She’d been down the pub.”
    â€œSorry,” he said, the misery so heavy all at once he felt sick.
    â€œNot your fault.” He could imagine Sally sitting on the table, her ample bottom in the jogging trousers.
    â€œMake sure she takes the pills, Sal. The blue ones. Please. And don’t forget the appointment with the psychiatrist on Monday.”
    â€œDon’t you worry.” Sal’s voice was quieter. “Don’t fret, Cal. Don’t torment yourself. This is a chance for you, love, maybe the only chance you’ll ever have to get on, so don’t ruin it. I’ll keep an eye on Annie. Give me the number and I’ll ring you tomorrow.”
    He gave it, and said, “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
    â€œWhen you’re making wads of cash you can pay me back.” Her voice turned, then came back. “Do you want to say good night to your mam? She’s gone off somewhere.”
    â€œNo,” he said quickly. “It’ll just upset her again.”
    â€œI’ll find those pills. Good night, Cal.”
    He put the phone down, and found he was sweating. As if he’d run for miles and miles. In the warm, still room he felt exhausted, and it was true, he had run, hadn’t he; run away and left her to fend for herself, though everyone knew she couldn’t. And it was illness, it wasn’t her fault, not really. But he couldn’t take it anymore, and he wouldn’t think about it, because Sally lived down the road and it’d be all right. And he wouldn’t think about Corbenic, either, because that was in him, that was worse.
    So he washed up, and when Trevor came home he said hello to Thérèse, who turned out to be as well dressed and elegant as he’d thought she would, her voice faintly accented. French, maybe. Waiting for Trevor, she perched on the edge of the sofa. “So. You’ll be working at the accountants’?”
    â€œFour days a week. On Wednesdays I have to go to college. For a course.”
    She smiled, her dark hair gleaming. A faint scent of perfume drifted from her. “Is that what you want?” she asked.
    â€œYes,” he said, surprised.
    She nodded kindly. “That’s good then. That you know what you want.”
    When they’d gone he watched television all night, a meaningless babble of programs and then went up and lay in the comfort of the black-and-white bed, one lamp throwing soft shadows on the ceiling. It was beautifully, wonderfully silent. No baby crying through the walls. No lying awake wondering what time his mother would come in. But he did lie awake, wondering just that, for a long time.

Chapter Six
    â€œAlas that I have you in my sight,” she said, “since you failed so completely.”
    Parzival
    I t was the quiet he couldn’t get used to. He stared out of the window at the cul-de-sac; even on a