Gravity's Chain by Alan Goodwin Read Free Book Online Page B

pieces, some mopping up here and there. When you’ve eaten the most succulent of meats, who eats thescrag-end? I haven’t done a thing for six months and can see no point in starting now. So what else is there to do on a plane to distract from the slightest change in engine tone that signals decompression and an imminent fatal dive? Drink. It amazes me how much I can drink in twenty-four hours when there’s nothing else to interrupt the rhythm. By the time we crossed the blue waters of the Manukau Harbour and dropped out of an Auckland dawn, I was fucked. Customs and passport control came and went without registering. During the drive from the airport to the city Hilton, I slept.
    It was mid-afternoon when I woke with a category one hangover that burnt every contour of my head and hurt most parts of my body simultaneously. Category ones were rare, but like migraines they were at times irresistible, and fighting them was useless. Total surrender was the only option. To be honest, that suited me. As soon as I woke I felt an uncomfortable feeling of doom, that as soon as I stepped from the hotel I’d be mugged by the unpleasant ghosts of my past. In the room, protected by my mega headache, I felt the demons excluded. Only Bebe could gain access, which he did, politely, in the late afternoon.
    â€˜Will you look at this?’ He waved an email in the air as though swatting flies. He was obnoxiously happy, and my grunt of half acknowledgment was not enough. ‘It’s really rather wonderful for you.’
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Quite amazing.’
    I rolled over to face him. For a moment I felt as though I’d left my head in its old position and it took several seconds for it to catch up with the rest of my body. ‘All right, Bebe, I give in. What is it you’ve got there?’ I tried lifting my head, butfailed and let it settle again on the soft pillow.
    â€˜You have an invitation, Jack.’ He danced a little jig. ‘You shall go to the ball, Cinders.’
    â€˜Bebe, please, I know you love the pantomime, but just tell me and then let me go back to sleep.’
    â€˜Your old school is having a class reunion tonight and you’ve been invited. They arranged it for tonight especially so you could go. They’ve been in liaison with Taikon’s New Zealand office. Isn’t that wonderful?’
    â€˜It would be if I was going. And by the way, Bebe, great security from the office here—these people could be anyone, and they get hold of my itinerary.’
    Bebe pulled out a chair from under the desk and sat down next to my bed. He lowered his head and rubbed its bald top. I recognised this type of silence. Again I attempted to rise from the cushioned safety of my pillow, succeeding this time in propping up my throbbing head with a hand. I didn’t need to ask the question, I knew the answer from the silence and rub of the head, but confirmation is always better than ignorance. ‘You’ve already accepted, haven’t you?’
    â€˜Yes,’ he said without raising his head.
    â€˜Bebe, I don’t want to go. In fact it’s the last thing I want to do.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because there will be people, well a person, there I don’t want to meet. Actually if I waited a hundred years it would still be too soon for us to see each other again.’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜Mary—Caroline’s sister.’
    â€˜You went to school with Caroline’s sister?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Does she feel the same about you?’
    â€˜Most definitely.’
    â€˜Then maybe she’ll stay away if she knows you are going to be there.’
    â€˜No, she’ll be there. She won’t talk to me, but she’ll be there, like a one-woman vigil of dislike. The urge to see me suffer that embarrassment will be far too strong. And I don’t want that so wave your wand, Bebe, and undo what you’ve done. I can sleep, I