The Hanging Garden
Contents (41)
Contents
Book One
1
2
Book Two
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
Book Three
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
The Hanging Garden
An Inspector Rebus Novel
IAN RANKIN
For Miranda
‘If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.’
T. S. Eliot, ‘Burnt Norton’
‘I went to Scotland and found nothing there that looks like Scotland’
Arthur Freed, Producer Brigadoon
Book One
‘In a Hanging Garden/Change the past’
They were arguing in the living-room.
‘Look, if your bloody job’s so precious ...’
‘What do you want from me?’
‘You know bloody well!’
‘I’m working my arse off for the three of us!’
‘Don’t give me that crap.’
And then they saw her. She was holding her teddy bear, Pa Broon, by one well-chewed ear. She was peering round the doorway, thumb in her mouth. They turned to her.
‘What is it, sweetie?’
‘I had a bad dream.’
‘Come here.’
The mother crouched down, opening her arms. But the girl ran to her father, wrapped herself around his legs.
‘Come on, pet, I’ll take you back to bed.’
He tucked her in, started to read her a story.
‘Daddy,’ she said, ‘what if I fall asleep and don’t wake up? Like Snow White or Sleeping Beauty?’
‘Nobody sleeps forever, Sammy. All it takes to wake them up is a kiss. There’s nothing the witches and evil queens can do about that.’
He kissed her forehead.
‘Dead people don’t wake up, ‘she said, hugging Pa Broon. ‘Not even when you kiss them.’
1
John Rebus kissed his daughter. ‘Sure you don’t want a lift?’
Samantha shook her head. ‘I need to walk off that pizza.’
Rebus put his hands in his pockets, felt folded banknotes beneath his handkerchief. He thought of offering her some money wasn’t that what fathers did? - but she’d only laugh. She was twenty-four and independent; didn’t need the gesture and certainly wouldn’t take the money. She’d even tried to pay for the pizza, arguing that she’d eaten half while he’d chewed on a single slice. The remains were in a box under her arm.
‘Bye, Dad.’ She pecked him on the cheek.
‘Next week?’
‘I’ll phone you. Maybe the three of us ...?’
By which she meant Ned Farlowe, her boyfriend. She was walking backwards as she spoke. One final wave, and she turned away from him, head moving as she checked the evening traffic, crossing the road without looking back. But on the opposite pavement she half-turned, saw him watching her, waved her hand in acknowledgment. A young man almost collided with her. He was staring at the pavement, the thin black cord from a pair of earphones dribbling down his neck. Turn round and look at her, Rebus commanded. Isn’t she incredible? But the youth kept shuffling along the pavement, oblivious to her world.