a dance of the veils, revealing crumbling brick innards within hints of grey plastering amid the mouldering paint on top. In fact, I thought, the entire terrace, all the way down the cliff, was falling to pieces, and it occurred to me that perhaps they ought to pull the whole lot down and start again, just as they’d done with the Majestic.
I saw a movement in the ground-floor window of the guest house. As I looked again, I realized an elderly man was standing there, watching us. I jumped, startled, but he merely nodded at me and raised his hand in greeting.
‘Look,’ I said to Star, indicating the old man. I raised my own hand and smiled at him.
‘Mmm,’ said Star. ‘Listen, about that chap with the sports car –’
‘Oh, God.’ I looked up at the sky. ‘It’s starting to rain.’
I dashed ahead of her, not having a waterproof on, and ran up the steps to the house as drops started to fall. As I was fishing my keys from my bag I heard Star land beside me, breathy and curious.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
‘I’m fine.’ I blinked hurriedly up at her. ‘Just, you know, thinking about my commitments.’
‘Oh, the old man?’ Star nodded at the tin I was resting on one hip. ‘Hey, you could make him soup.’
I twirled the key ring on my finger until I found the battered brass one that opened the main door. ‘I suppose … yes, I suppose I could.’
Star sighed. ‘I wish I was like you. You’re such a nice person.’
I wiggled the key in the lock and let us into the house. ‘Oh, shut up.’ I pushed on the light and wiped my feet on the mat. The blackboard above the telephone had no message, thank goodness.
She traced the snail-shell end of the banister with one finger. ‘I mean it,’ she said. ‘You are nice. It’s one of your best qualities.’
I glanced at her to see if she was teasing me, but her eyes were hidden beneath the brim of her cap. I thought about how I’d had no intention of visiting the old man, and revised my plan. A nice person would do what she’d promised to do, after all; at the very least I should check that he was all right.
Star was still avoiding my gaze; the air seemed thick with an odd sort of silence, but I wasn’t quite sure how it had arrived. To break it, I said, ‘Oh, by the way, you don’tknow who lives in the ground-floor flat, do you? Because whoever it is has the most awful whistle.’
‘Um … no, I don’t.’ She climbed one stair. ‘I meant what I said, you know.’
I looked up at her. ‘About what?’
‘This Friday. You’ll love the One-Two. It’s completely gear. For this old town, anyway.’
‘You told me,’ I said. ‘It’s in a basement just by the seafront, and the walls are painted as if you’re underwater, and the man who owns it is some ancient cat called George Basin.’
‘That’s it.’ She looked at me now, from two steps up, and smiled. Her long fingers drummed the banister. I reached up, and as her fingers fluttered in my palm I felt an answering sensation in my belly.
‘I’ll be up shortly,’ I said, and she grinned at me, before running up to the half-landing and disappearing at the corner, and I put the idea that I was a total idiot to a very small place at the back of my mind.
I peered down the dark hallway that led to the back of the building. I’d yet to go down to the basement; all the rooms there were singles, mostly occupied by people whom life had passed by, and consequently the social niceties too. I sometimes saw them in the hall, hurrying towards the back stairs with a half loaf of bread and a mad scowl on their faces.
Well, Star thought I was a nice person, and I would live up to that. I marched along the passageway and down the stairs, where the smell of old cabbage wafted up like the stench of despair. I climbed down into a long narrow hallway that continued behind me towards a chilly-looking bathroom with a mousetrap just over the threshold, andahead of me all the way beneath the house
I saw a movement in the ground-floor window of the guest house. As I looked again, I realized an elderly man was standing there, watching us. I jumped, startled, but he merely nodded at me and raised his hand in greeting.
‘Look,’ I said to Star, indicating the old man. I raised my own hand and smiled at him.
‘Mmm,’ said Star. ‘Listen, about that chap with the sports car –’
‘Oh, God.’ I looked up at the sky. ‘It’s starting to rain.’
I dashed ahead of her, not having a waterproof on, and ran up the steps to the house as drops started to fall. As I was fishing my keys from my bag I heard Star land beside me, breathy and curious.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
‘I’m fine.’ I blinked hurriedly up at her. ‘Just, you know, thinking about my commitments.’
‘Oh, the old man?’ Star nodded at the tin I was resting on one hip. ‘Hey, you could make him soup.’
I twirled the key ring on my finger until I found the battered brass one that opened the main door. ‘I suppose … yes, I suppose I could.’
Star sighed. ‘I wish I was like you. You’re such a nice person.’
I wiggled the key in the lock and let us into the house. ‘Oh, shut up.’ I pushed on the light and wiped my feet on the mat. The blackboard above the telephone had no message, thank goodness.
She traced the snail-shell end of the banister with one finger. ‘I mean it,’ she said. ‘You are nice. It’s one of your best qualities.’
I glanced at her to see if she was teasing me, but her eyes were hidden beneath the brim of her cap. I thought about how I’d had no intention of visiting the old man, and revised my plan. A nice person would do what she’d promised to do, after all; at the very least I should check that he was all right.
Star was still avoiding my gaze; the air seemed thick with an odd sort of silence, but I wasn’t quite sure how it had arrived. To break it, I said, ‘Oh, by the way, you don’tknow who lives in the ground-floor flat, do you? Because whoever it is has the most awful whistle.’
‘Um … no, I don’t.’ She climbed one stair. ‘I meant what I said, you know.’
I looked up at her. ‘About what?’
‘This Friday. You’ll love the One-Two. It’s completely gear. For this old town, anyway.’
‘You told me,’ I said. ‘It’s in a basement just by the seafront, and the walls are painted as if you’re underwater, and the man who owns it is some ancient cat called George Basin.’
‘That’s it.’ She looked at me now, from two steps up, and smiled. Her long fingers drummed the banister. I reached up, and as her fingers fluttered in my palm I felt an answering sensation in my belly.
‘I’ll be up shortly,’ I said, and she grinned at me, before running up to the half-landing and disappearing at the corner, and I put the idea that I was a total idiot to a very small place at the back of my mind.
I peered down the dark hallway that led to the back of the building. I’d yet to go down to the basement; all the rooms there were singles, mostly occupied by people whom life had passed by, and consequently the social niceties too. I sometimes saw them in the hall, hurrying towards the back stairs with a half loaf of bread and a mad scowl on their faces.
Well, Star thought I was a nice person, and I would live up to that. I marched along the passageway and down the stairs, where the smell of old cabbage wafted up like the stench of despair. I climbed down into a long narrow hallway that continued behind me towards a chilly-looking bathroom with a mousetrap just over the threshold, andahead of me all the way beneath the house
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