V 02 - Domino Men, The by Barnes-Jonathan Read Free Book Online

excuse for a conversation, but she was always evasive on the subject, saying that it was too depressingly humdrum to talk about.  Whatever it was, I was in no doubt that she was bored of it, as she had complained to me on more than one occasion about wanting to do something better with her life — something more noble, she said, something worthwhile.
    “Henry!  I was getting worried.”
    “I was at the hospital.”
    “No change?”
    “No change.”
    “Sit down.  I’ll get you a coffee.”  Abbey was up on her feet and into the kitchen before I had a chance to protest.  “Two sugars, right?”
    I said a grateful yes and sank into the sofa, relieved that the day was drawing to a close.
    Abbey pressed a hot mug into my hands and I thanked her.  She was wearing a baggy T-shirt several sizes too big for her and I’m a little ashamed to admit that I wondered whether she was wearing anything beneath it.
    She sat cross-legged on the floor.  “Henry?  Do you…”  She trailed off, embarrassed.  “Do you notice something different about me?”
    “Not sure what you mean.”
    “I mean is there anything different about me?”
    Grateful for the opportunity to admire the contours of Abbey’s face without her thinking I was gawping, I gazed for a minute or two, uninterrupted.
    “No,” I said at last.  “Not that I can see.”
    She tapped the side of her nose and at last I saw what she meant — a flash of gold, a small, discreet stud like an expensive outbreak of acne.  My first thought was that she’d had it done to impress someone — some square-jawed hunk at work, some broad-shouldered pin-up of the assizes.
    “You like it?”
    Too tired and guileless to lie, I said:  “I prefer you without.”
    “Oh.”  She sounded disappointed.  “I thought you might like it.”
    “It’s just that you’ve got such a lovely nose it seems a shame to spoil it.”  Even as I said it, I could feel myself turning pink.
    “Have I really?” she asked.  “Have I really got a lovely nose?”
    I was just about to stutter out some reply when rescue arrived in the insistent peal of the telephone.  As I picked up the receiver I looked back at Abbey and saw that she seemed almost as grateful for the reprieve as I.
    “Hello?”
    The voice, cracked with age, seemed faintly familiar.  “Am I speaking to Mr. Henry Lamb?”
    “You are.”
    “I represent Gadarene Glass.  Would you be interested at all in purchasing a new window?”
    “Haven’t you called before?”
    “I have, yes.”
    “The answer’s still no,” I snapped, “and I thought I asked you last time not to bother.”
    Click.  The hornet buzz of the dial tone.
    Abbey rolled her eyes as I replaced the receiver.  “I don’t know how they get this number.”
    I yawned.  “Think I’ll go to bed.”
    “Sleep well.  But Henry?”
    “Yes.”
    “If you need to talk…”
    “Of course.”
    Abbey smiled.  As I turned to go, I saw that she was touching the side of her left nostril, running her fingers over the stud, suddenly, sweetly, adorably self-conscious.  I stole another look and felt something unfamiliar, something strange but wonderful, begin to flutter in my chest.
    If I’d known at that moment all that was to come, I would have stamped out those feelings right then.  I’d have those flutterings at birth.

 
     
     
Chapter 6

     
    The next day I made up my mind to go to Granddad’s house.  Not one other member of the family (nor a single constituent of his fair-weather entourage) had emerged to offer their assistance, and as the only relative who had ever admitted to actually liking the man, I felt the persistent tug of responsibility.
    The day passed in a blur of routine — Hickey-Brown’s jokes, lunch with Barbara, an errand in the mail room, a dirty look from Philip Statham, an eternity spent idling on the computer, staring at my screen and waiting for five o’clock.  Once it was over I cycled up to London Bridge, forced my bike