The Last Days of the Lacuna Cabal. Sean Dixon
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Название: The Last Days of the Lacuna Cabal

Автор: Sean Dixon

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Книги о войне

Серия:

isbn: 9780007283491

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ Romy, who was the perfect Lacuna Cabal member, this was a blow.

      ‘No, Missy, we’re not.’

      ‘Oh, Romy, you’re not? You’re speaking of more serious things?’

      ‘Yes we are.’

      ‘Could you share them with the group?’

      ‘Uh.’

      ‘Books suck, Missy, essentially, is what I was saying. Okay? Happy?’

      This from Emmy, who opted in her newfound self-destructive manner to deflect attention from Romy – possibly the only kind thing she will ever do for anyone in this story. She went on. ‘Because for me they don’t do what they’re supposed to do when they need to do them most.’

      Missy, shocked, spluttered something about how books, in fact, ‘have no needs, Emmy’.

      ‘All I know is,’ Emmy continued, ‘and this is what I was telling the poor embarrassed Romy, all I know is, I lie in my bed at night, by myself, trying to read some cosy little book, but I can’t read them any more, because they’re too small, and they don’t matter, and I have to put them down and just get on with it.’

      Missy, trying to affect a sympathetic tone, began to assure Emmy that we all knew about her ‘circumstances’, an ir resistibly vague term that prompted Priya to lean over and ask Romy, whisperingly, what those ‘circumstances’ might be.

      ‘Priya here doesn’t,’ corrected Emmy. ‘But you were saying?’

      ‘Emmy, if you’re not available for the necessary suspension of disbelief through these tragic circumstances of –’

      ‘Missy, I’m not saying my circumstances are tragic. God forbid thinking they’re tragic. I know they’re common, they’re so common that, who knows, they might even happen to you one day.’

      To Emmy, Missy presented the image of manless perfection.

      ‘Can we get down to the next book?’

      ‘Sure, shit, whatever, shit, sure.’

      But it was not as easy as all that. Missy had let loose the Id, and it wasn’t going to be so easy to allow it to slip back into the dark crevice from whence it had come.

      Priya spoke up now – lovely, sunny Priya – suggesting helpfully that Missy ‘say what the book is going to be so we can get it over with’. To Missy’s explosion of protest, Priya countered that, ‘Aline and Jennifer and Danielle will vote for whatever you want them to, Missy … ’

      Missy, mining a deep-core reserve of calm, asked, ‘What is this, a mutiny?’

      ‘I’m just telling it like it is,’ said Priya.

      ‘But it’s not even true,’ countered Missy. ‘Aline and Jennifer and Danielle can vote however they wish, and besides, it’s not my fault that our resident maverick, Runner Coghill, is missing today.’

      Romy said, ‘Runner Coghill is always missing on decision days. It’s because she can’t stand the Final Indulgence. She thinks it’s stupid.’

      Missy fixed Romy with a very frank look. ‘Well, I don’t have any sympathy for her then.’

      ‘Missy, she just lost her sister.’

      ‘What does that have to do with anything? Anyway, that was six months ago!’

      ‘It’s harder when it’s your twin.’

      ‘Oh, is it now?’

      ‘Yes!’

      ‘That’s just a crutch.’

      And so there followed a moment or two when it seemed like the dark cloud of the Lacuna Id had passed. Until Romy, moving on, suggested they take up The White Bone by Barbara Gowdy, a book about elephants.

      This was unfortunate. Not only was Missy against reading a book about elephants or any other animals, but she was also, for the moment at least, against Romy. So in her argument against ‘the elephant book’, she matter-of-factly revealed some private information about how Romy had become distraught over the deaths of some rabbits in Watership Down, a book she’d read outside the auspices of the club. The deaths in this elephant book, she pointed out, were much worse than the rabbit deaths: they were harrowing, terrible, horrible deaths, and the entire, like, herd was always aware of it. ‘It’s a really depressing book.’

      ‘Wow, dead elephants,’ said Romy, mortified by Missy’s public revelations. Her eyes brimmed with tears and she wished that something would occur that might annihilate the memory of her suggestion.

      And then something did. Miraculously, from the other end of the floor there came a most welcome interruption: a voice, high, piercing and clear: ‘Either I’m delirious or the essence of my vulva is filling the warehouse!’

      (!)

      (Well, that’s what she said!)