tried to understand why he had submitted to being led out of the house, but with each effort instead of an explanation he received an image of her mouth with the smear of blood as she said, 'As if I cared.'
It was not possible that what he had felt was fear. He dismissed the idea of fear, stumbling along in the heat, looking around for the car and, fierce veins beating in his skull, worrying about how he would explain himself to Denny his chauffeur.
5 The First Victim
THURSDAY, AUGUST 30 TH 1988
Then his name did not matter. He was fifty-one years old and in good shape apart from the regular discomfort produced by a stomach ulcer. He believed there was more risk in visiting doctors than in staying away from them . He could not forget how as a boy he had seen his mother come back from hospital unable to raise her head from her chest because treatment had destroyed the muscles of her neck. As a result he swallowed quantities of tablets and powders he got from the local chemist, and died without ever discovering the cause of his discomfort. There was no way of knowing how many of the lines round his eyes had been scored by the ulcer and how many by the process of his marriage going bad.
From ten days earlier, when his wife left him, he had been explaining to neighbours that she was gone to visit their married daughter in Shreveport, a city in Louisiana, which is one of the Southern states of the United States. As it happened, most of his neighbours knew where Louisiana was. He told the truth elaborately because he was a rather dull, meticulously honest man, and because he was missing out the one thing that mattered which was that she had explained to him with some force why she did not intend to come back.
On that Thursday morning, he had told his employer he was taking leave of absence . There had been some unpleasantness and he was not certain that his job would be there when he wanted it again. Previously he had taken the surrender value of his life assurance policies and in his pocket he had an airline ticket to the United States. He had been disappointed by the sum he had realised on the policies but it was enough, and fortunately he was in sound health, apart from the unsuspected ulcer and a long history of trouble with his teeth. Later, when his name mattered, the record of so much dental work was helpful.
Tomorrow he would catch a plane, tonight he could not face an
empty house. He ordered a beer and asked what was available to eat, settling for two rolls sad enough to have been left over from the lunch offering. Steadily he chewed on them as if he could masticate the years of his marriage, purge what had been wrong and take only the best of it with him across the Atlantic to his wife. It was a fool's sacrament, tasting of chemicals, to whiten, to aerate, and to speed fermentation. There was nothing in it of wheat. If it was a penance, he served it.
Perhaps he made a special kind of face reflecting on all of that for when he looked up the woman was already watching him.
He had been married to the same woman most of his adult life and been faithful. Even during the bad last years, he had not turned to another woman. The kind of life he lived did not throw him into the company of anyone likely, and he had lost the courage or the knack of hopefulness needed to offer himself to a stranger. It was more than three years since he had made love to his wife; although they continued all that time out of old habit to share a bed. His manhood was dry.
Yet when he saw the woman watching, he left his place at the bar and joined her. He gave himself no time to think , which was extraordinary, and as he listened to her a knot of fear and excitement tightened and unwound and tightened in him. It was as if even at his age a man might change and become somehow new.
'It would have been our thirtieth anniversary next month.'
Close up, she was younger than he had thought. He had made a judgement on the woman
It was not possible that what he had felt was fear. He dismissed the idea of fear, stumbling along in the heat, looking around for the car and, fierce veins beating in his skull, worrying about how he would explain himself to Denny his chauffeur.
5 The First Victim
THURSDAY, AUGUST 30 TH 1988
Then his name did not matter. He was fifty-one years old and in good shape apart from the regular discomfort produced by a stomach ulcer. He believed there was more risk in visiting doctors than in staying away from them . He could not forget how as a boy he had seen his mother come back from hospital unable to raise her head from her chest because treatment had destroyed the muscles of her neck. As a result he swallowed quantities of tablets and powders he got from the local chemist, and died without ever discovering the cause of his discomfort. There was no way of knowing how many of the lines round his eyes had been scored by the ulcer and how many by the process of his marriage going bad.
From ten days earlier, when his wife left him, he had been explaining to neighbours that she was gone to visit their married daughter in Shreveport, a city in Louisiana, which is one of the Southern states of the United States. As it happened, most of his neighbours knew where Louisiana was. He told the truth elaborately because he was a rather dull, meticulously honest man, and because he was missing out the one thing that mattered which was that she had explained to him with some force why she did not intend to come back.
On that Thursday morning, he had told his employer he was taking leave of absence . There had been some unpleasantness and he was not certain that his job would be there when he wanted it again. Previously he had taken the surrender value of his life assurance policies and in his pocket he had an airline ticket to the United States. He had been disappointed by the sum he had realised on the policies but it was enough, and fortunately he was in sound health, apart from the unsuspected ulcer and a long history of trouble with his teeth. Later, when his name mattered, the record of so much dental work was helpful.
Tomorrow he would catch a plane, tonight he could not face an
empty house. He ordered a beer and asked what was available to eat, settling for two rolls sad enough to have been left over from the lunch offering. Steadily he chewed on them as if he could masticate the years of his marriage, purge what had been wrong and take only the best of it with him across the Atlantic to his wife. It was a fool's sacrament, tasting of chemicals, to whiten, to aerate, and to speed fermentation. There was nothing in it of wheat. If it was a penance, he served it.
Perhaps he made a special kind of face reflecting on all of that for when he looked up the woman was already watching him.
He had been married to the same woman most of his adult life and been faithful. Even during the bad last years, he had not turned to another woman. The kind of life he lived did not throw him into the company of anyone likely, and he had lost the courage or the knack of hopefulness needed to offer himself to a stranger. It was more than three years since he had made love to his wife; although they continued all that time out of old habit to share a bed. His manhood was dry.
Yet when he saw the woman watching, he left his place at the bar and joined her. He gave himself no time to think , which was extraordinary, and as he listened to her a knot of fear and excitement tightened and unwound and tightened in him. It was as if even at his age a man might change and become somehow new.
'It would have been our thirtieth anniversary next month.'
Close up, she was younger than he had thought. He had made a judgement on the woman
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