The Yeare's Midnight by Ed O'Connor Read Free Book Online Page A

into a repeating musical pattern and recorded it. The result was frustratingly discordant: a leaping, falling cacophony. He has blamed the failure on mathematical miscalculations and is determined to correct his errors. However, behind the silences of this place, he sometimes hears snatches of the Musica Mundi: brief, distant but heartbreakingly beautiful.
    His grandmother’s grave is at the far side of the cemetery. It is one of the newer plots. The area is not yet overgrown but Crowan Frayne tears any weeds from the ground. He eats the colourful ones. He is a regular visitor. The headstone is black, marbled and inscripted with gold text. ‘Violet Frayne 1908–1999, beloved mother and grandmother: One short sleep past, we wake eternally, and death shall be no more. Death, thou shalt die.’ Crowan Frayne chose the inscription himself.
    He speaks to his grandmother for a while, sitting squat on the cold earth. As is his habit, he recites two or three of her favourite poems from memory and tells her how his own studies are progressing. He can feel her reaching out for him and drives his hand into the damp soil as deeply as possible. The music is much louder now and its colossal beauty wells up within him, tearing at his soul. He begins to cry. He can hear Violet’s voice – encouraging and learned – floating between the notes of time and space. He will be with her soon.
    A train clatters behind him as Crowan Frayne smoothes the soil that he has disturbed. An hour has passed. It is time to leave. He has lots to plan: a thousand variables to pitch and sound. He steps over another grave as he leaves. He does not allow himself to read the headstone. He tries to beat away the bad memories that rise from the soil and scratch at his ankles.
14
    Underwood had left the station and driven to the end of his own road. He had a clear view of the front door of his house but remained in the car. He waited. There was a debate on Radio Four about the ethics of genetic engineering. He listened without hearing. Shortly after nine a minicab drew up at his house and Julia came out. He couldn’t make out what she was wearing but he saw her best necklace sparkle briefly against the porch light. The minicab drove off and indicated left at the end of the street. Underwood thought for a second. He felt curiously excited by the experience. He started his engine and followed.
    He tried to rationalize his feelings. He felt a degree of guilt, even shame that he had fallen so far; that he doubted his own wife’s word. However, he felt impelled by the inherent justice of his cause. This would settle the facts of the matter. The rest was about conscience and he knew he could handle that. The cab’s lights glowed ahead of him. He kept a reasonable distance but was not uncomfortable. He knew Julia wouldn’t be expecting a tail.
    The cab turned towards New Bolden town centre; Underwood knew that the cinema was in Argyll Street. There was a one-way system so they would have to turn left at the end. On cue, the cab indicated and swung into the line of traffic. Underwood held back; two cars behind them. Eventually the cinema loomed brightly ahead and the cab pulled up in front of the foyer. Underwood quickly veered into a side road. He pulled up with a decent view of the entrance to the cinema. Julia climbed out of the cab and rushed inside. Underwood sat back in his seat, suddenly aware that his shirt was soaked with sweat. So she had been telling the truth. His heart sank slightly. He was uncertain whether to feel ashamed or relieved, both or neither.
    He started the engine and was about to drive off when Julia emerged from the front of the cinema and jumped back into the cab. The car promptly leapt out in to the traffic and drove off.Underwood was shocked. He began to feel sick and flattened the accelerator, breaking into the stream of cars to a raucous cacophony of hoots and shrieking tyres. He closed on the minicab. The driver had moved into the