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Salad should always be eaten from a side plate. There are some dishes which
you may consume with your fingers like a savage, and others which you must
dissect with your knife. It is also inadvisable to drink large amounts of wine
on an empty stomach before you commence eating, and even more so to attempt to
stifle your crushing sense of stupidity by continuing to drink through your
meal. Above all, it is probably best to ignore comments which are not intended
for your ears, nor to ask loudly for them to be repeated, and applaud
sarcastically when, after a long pause and an exchange of glances, something
else is said in their place.
Staggering outside as the courses continued and my stomach started to roil,
falling over flowerbeds under a grin of moon, the laughter streamed with my
tears as I spat out large amounts of what I'd eaten. What was
I doing here in any case? I'd thought, to the extent that
I'd properly thought about it at all, that it would be a chance to witness a
rare species the disgustingly rich in their endangered habitat before they
vanished entirely, and, of course, to see Anna. But it had never occurred to
me that I'd stand out like a monkey at a wedding.
After all, hadn't I managed well enough on that Midsummer? It had been the
same people. The same suits. The same faces. Even now, sniggering and
whispering from the darkness, they processed around me. But, back then, I'd
floated above the waters of that ballroom. Even the food had been no problem
to me and I'd danced like a dervish to every tune ..
.
There was a whispered discussion behind me. The perilinden trees tinkled and
swayed. A white shirt bobbed like a lantern, another drifted away.
`You're not quite at your best at the moment, are you, old chap?'
I recognised Highermaster George's voice, the soft pressure of his hands.
One of several Walcote Houses loomed into view. There were servants like dark
folds of paper, windows and lights and corridors, conversations about the
whereabouts of my room. Apart from the bilious tilt of the ceiling, I felt
almost painfully sober, but these people seemed deaf to my protests. And I
knew now that the walls would dissolve if I
blundered into them, that you could find yourself elsewhere and yet still be
here, that the carpets could tilt, the floors turn to seas.
`Here we are . . .' A door of marbled wood loomed. `Think we should get you to
bed old chap ...'
`I'm fine!
Fine ...' I
struggled as George tried to remove my jacket from me. `
You were there weren't you? On that pier, at Midsummer?'
`You mean by the embankment? There was something that used to go on there, now
that you mention ..
I flopped on the bed. My shoes were prised from my feet. My socks came with
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them.
`But there are so many balls and dances. It's difficult to remember the
details of every one. Especially if it was a few years ago.'
I willed the bed to stop turning, the room to cease cavorting. `Still, you
look as if you'll be all right. I've put a glass of water on the bedside
table.' His shadow moved towards the door. `Annalise.'
The shadow paused. `What?'
`Annalise Winters.'
`Annalise . . .' He chuckled. `And I'd always thought Anna was her full name.'
`Well it isn't.'
`Right.' His face blurred and reformed. `She's a good friend.' `I
knew her when she was ... Much younger ...'
`Oh really?' Was that a tightness I heard in his voice? Something harsher?
Protective? But there were too many Georges, and I was starting to feel sick
again and disgusted, and empty. Where Anna
Winters should have been, all those treasured memories, there was nothing now.
`She can make herself disappear behind a vase of flowers, you know,' I told
him. `And I know her well. Even if she says I'm nothing.
Just ask Sadie.'
`Oh, I believe you.' George's face retreated. The gaslights flickered down. I
heard the whisper of the door across the carpet. `And I think you'll be fine
now 'til morning.'
`And that vase.'
`Yes?'
`I didn't touch it. My hands were invisible and it just exploded.
Anna did that as well.'
Highermaster George chuckled as he closed the door. `Now that would be quite a
trick ..
Blazing shadows. The clatter of silverware and porcelain. The people moving in
this bright room are like tropic birds; shockingly iridescent. The windows are
painful slashes, the curtains waterfalls of blood. I managed to still my hands
sufficiently to pour myself a cup of coffee. I lifted the heavy silver lid of
one of the tureens. Steamy visions of maggoty rice poured up at me. No,
definitely not food. The voices, the whispers, were more subdued this morning.
I was the only one properly dressed in my only remaining trousers and jacket,
whilst everyone else was wearing silken extravagances which I supposed might
be called morning coats. I was almost invisible again and I decided I might as
well
stay that way. Even on a Noshiftday, there must be trains to take me back to
London, and I had only a few minutes' worth of packing. I could walk straight
out through those doors and along Marine Drive. By late afternoon, evening the
latest, I could be back with Saul, Maud, Blissenhawk, Black Lucy.
Two more dazzlingly attired figures emerged into the breakfast room, the man
with a gold chain the size of a dock-mooring around his neck, the woman
wearing fairy slippers. The Bowdly-Smarts looked as out of place and ugly as
they had yesterday, and Grandmistress Bowdly-
Smart was proclaiming in a loud voice, waving her wrists in a slide of
bangles. Her vowels slid around most of England. I could almost enjoy the
raised eyebrows, the whispers, now that they weren't directed at me.
Grandmaster Bowdly-Smart glanced over at me as I stared at him.
Then he turned his back and began to heap out kedgeree. It was him rather than
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