Chapters (49)
- Cover
- Table of Contents
- Also by Graham Hurley
- LIMELIGHT
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- AFTERWARDS
I watch her walking slowly away. I know she’s loved our weekend together, but we must have trudged miles and miles between churches, and bars, and galleries, and all the other must-visit delights, and it shows. When she gets to the end of the bridge, she stops, sits down on a bench, and gives me a tiny wave. I’m here, she’s saying. Join me when you can.
I turn towards the river. The water is nearly black in what’s left of the daylight, the ripples of current barely visible. I peer briefly into the container. Pavel dying has made remarkably little difference to our relationship. I still talk to him most days, and most days he answers back.
Now, I have some news for him.
‘That missing file of yours,’ I murmur. ‘A man called Andy found it in the end. It’s a wonderful story, truly wonderful, and we think Sheppey is going to win someone very deserving the star prize. Ten thousand pounds goes a long way in rural Angola, as I’m sure you know. Something else, though, dearest Pavel. That little fable of yours also got me into serious shit with MI5, thanks to the bits in The Jungle camp, but that’s another story. So well done for writing it, and here’s hoping they never knock on my door again.’
I wait, in vain, for an answer, or even a brief comment, and then decide he must be impatient to leave. And so I lean out over the balustrade of the bridge, murmur the key lines from an Auden poem I know he loves, and turn the container upside down. A thin cloud of ash is caught in the wind, unfurling like a flag, and then the grittier bits disappear soundlessly into the darkness below.
I gaze down for what seems like a very long moment, blow the remains of Pavel a kiss, then screw the lid back on to the container. When I check the end of the bridge, Evelyn – bless her – is still waiting.
AFTERWARDS
From the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, released on Thursday 23 January 2020 and widely reproduced.
As seasoned watchers know, the Doomsday Clock did not move in 2019. But the clock’s minute hand was set forward in January 2018 by 30 seconds, to two minutes before midnight, the closest it had been to midnight since 1953 in the early years of the Cold War. This year, the Science and Security Board moved the time from two minutes to 100 seconds to midnight, a decision taken in full recognition of its historic nature.