The Kimota Anthology by Steve Lockley, Stephen Gallagher, Neal Asher, Stephen Laws, Mark Chadbourn, Mark Morris, Paul Finch, William Meikle, Peter Crowther, Graeme Hurry Read Free Book Online Page A

John had finally escaped to the garden from the pea soup atmosphere of the house. He had never been much of a gardener, but among the dried-out buddleia and the fading, crinkled roses he felt he had found some kind of sanctuary. As he sat on the slabs outside the kitchen door, picking the mud from his boots with a pair of secaturs, Gill stepped out distractedly, saw him and let out a sudden shriek.
    “Jesus Christ!” she snapped. “You scared the living daylights out of me. How did you get out here so quickly?”
    “I’ve been out here for the last hour.” He didn’t try to disguise the irritation in his voice.
    She shook her head dismissively. “Don’t lie to me, John. I heard you moving around in Christopher’s room. That heavy tread of yours could wake the dead. You walked over to the cot and looked in. I thought we agreed we wouldn’t keep going in to him.” He looked at her as if she was crazy. “I was in the dining room, for God’s sake. Right beneath his room. I could hear your elephant footsteps going across the floor just over my head.”
    John returned to the inspection of his boots. “I haven’t been in there. I’m out here to stop myself going in there. You’re just acting guilty because you can’t leave him alone.”
    “And what are you doing out here?” she continued, ignoring him. “What about all the things inside that need doing? Am I supposed to do them while you wander about the garden in a dream?”
    “The garden needs doing as well...” But she had already gone, slamming the door behind her.
    That night Gill tried to make up. “Come to bed early,” she said, pausing at the stairs door. It was a euphemism for sex, but it had been so long since they had done it that John no longer knew if he could. He couldn’t even bring himself to see her in a sexual light. Recently, in the depths of his subconscious, he realised he saw her only as The Enemy, waging a constant battle to stop him being himself. He smiled and shook his head with mock apology. “I’ve got to get this book finished,” he said, tapping his paperback. She didn’t believe him for a minute, and she disappeared up the stairs without saying good night.
    “Sorry, mate, I can’t help you.” The central heating engineer closed his box of tools with a clang. “I’ve checked everything top to bottom - pressure, pump, boiler. It’s all working fine. Look, feel it.” He put his palm on the radiator in Christopher’s room. “Hot.”
    “But it still feels cold in here.” Gill rubbed her arms.
    “Maybe you’ve got a draught.”
    “It’s double-glazed,” John said acidly. Christopher was starting to nod off on his shoulder, his lips sucking at his dummy in a steady rhythm.
    “Could it be cutting out?” Gill asked. “Coming on intermittently, but not enough to heat the room?”
    “Maybe it decides to come on when you’re in here and switches itself off when you’re not,” the engineer replied sarcastically. He slipped out of the door before anyone could ask him any more stupid questions. Gill followed to let him out. John gently lifted Christopher off his shoulder and laid him in his cot, throwing a couple of blankets over him and then, as an afterthought, the small cover from his moses basket.
    Through the window he could see the heavy grey skies that had transformed the mellow autumn into a biting foretaste of winter. The first heavy frost had iced the lawn that morning; it was imperative they sort out whatever was wrong with Christopher’s room as soon as possible. The problem had been building steadily; however warm the rest of the house was - and it got very warm - Christopher’s room always felt like an icebox. With the memory of that frantic flight to the hospital still strong in his mind, John didn’t want to risk anything which could trigger another fit. They had considered moving him, but the other spare bedroom had become piled high with junk, and if he slept in their room their sleep was