Then – click! – everything promptly returned to normal. Almost. I blinked. I blinked again. I suddenly felt very tired. I wanted to throw myself straight down on to the sofa, but this same sofa – only moments before – had been packed full of people. And I still couldn’t sit down anyway, physically … it wasn’t possible … my injuries … so I adjusted my crutches (in fact these were Mr Barrow’s crutches, which I’d temporarily been loaned. Mr Barrow was prone to breaking the tiny bones in his feet – he’d done so twice: hairline fractures, stress fractures, and these were his crutches which Mrs Barrow had kindly … ) … Where was I? Just … yes … so tired again. I began making my way, clumsily, across the room. I had a strange and unyielding … what was it? Like a paper-thin lens across the surface of my eye which was sensitive to shadow – hyper-sensitive to shadow – as if the light from that golden dust – the unearthly brightness – had inexplicably burned … I was somewhat … uh … yes … spooked. Exactly. Ridiculous! Probably just a weird side effect of the huge quantity of painkillers … I just wanted to …

‘Mr Huff?’

It was Mrs Meadows, standing in the doorway. I was stretched out, face down, on the bed. It was as if I had been asleep and had just woken up.

‘Mrs Meadows?’ I asked, disorientated.

‘Don’t you want your tea, Mr Huff?’

‘Did I …?’ I frowned, confused.

‘Should I … Should I perhaps go, Mr Huff?’

Mrs Meadows looked slightly put out. I suddenly felt very … very sensitive to how Mrs Meadows was feeling. My heart thudded, anxiously, at the awful prospect of having somehow inadvertently offended … And as I gazed towards her, this strange lens on my eyelid picked out an iridescent nimbus … like a halo, but then I realized that it hadn’t been concern (that anxious feeling) but fear. And the halo didn’t belong to Mrs Meadows, but it was the light of many golden-tinged shapes – these ravenous figures, hungry figures – crowding in behind her. Yet nothing ahead of her. Everything clear ahead of her. As if it were the force of her sheer presence alone that was keeping them back.

‘Oh God, no!’ I said, suddenly fearful. ‘You couldn’t possibly leave. You couldn’t possibly do that. You must … you must stay with me, Mrs Meadows. Until I … Until …’

How long, I wondered, how long might this …? How long might I conceivably be expected to … to …?

46

Miss Alys Jane Drury (and Baldo!)

‘No it isn’t too late, Carla, it’s fine. I was actually just …’

‘WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!’

‘Hello? Are you still …? Sorry. That was …’

………

‘Yes he is. I mean she is. She is home. I’ve got her perched on an old mug tree on the kitchen table while I …’

‘WAAAAAAH!’

………

‘Yes! While I clear out the bottom of her …’