Danny Yates Must Die. Stephen Walker

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СКАЧАТЬ do you see me?’

      ‘In a field.’

      ‘Surrounded by?’

      ‘Big toadstools.’

      ‘Next to?’

      ‘A rabbit warren.’

      ‘And I’m …?’

      ‘Lying by a burbling, little fountain.’

      ‘Am I naked?’ she asked.

      No reply.

      Again; ‘Am I naked?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Am I in a state of near undress?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Am I half dressed, like a brazen hussy, with you about to administer the seeing to I’m asking for?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘I should be.’

      ‘You’re not.’

      ‘That’d be the standard fantasy I’d induce in your personality type.’

      ‘It’s not mine.’

      ‘Are you telling me the truth, Gary?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I don’t believe you.’

      He opened his eyes. ‘Can we change the subject?’

      ‘To?’

      ‘Where’re we taking this fridge? You do know the council tip’s the other way?’

      ‘That’s where I got it. I’m taking it home. I want to test it.’

      ‘For?’

      ‘Time travel potential.’

      ‘Time …?’ At the hill’s crown, he stopped pushing. Worn out, he leaned back against the fridge, sank to his knees and tried to regain his breath. The world was purple and spinning.

      She dropped the door wedge to the ground, kicking it into place beneath a fridge castor. ‘You probably know time can be frozen. You may have done it yourself, setting your freeze box to nought degrees Kelvin; Absolute Zero. A switch, on the back of all fridges, allows you to do so. Amazingly, most people don’t even know it’s there, not having bothered to read the instructions fully. Flick it left, time stands still. Flick it right, time accelerates. But what if you lower temperatures further, into negative values? Then time runs backwards.’

      ‘Are you winding me up?’

      In fading light, she clambered onto the fridge, sat cross legged atop it, and looked down at him. ‘Within two weeks, this battered frigidaire,’ clungk, her knuckles rapped it, ‘may be the world’s first functional time machine. Weird Science, I hold several doctorates in it.’

      He gazed up into deep green eyes, trying to imagine them travelling through time atop that fridge. But somehow, no matter how hard he tried – and he tried hard – he could only imagine her naked in a field of strangely phallic toadstools.

      ‘You were sat outside the Seaman’s Mission?’ she asked.

      ‘I’m staying there, between homes.’

      ‘Are you a seaman?’

      ‘I’d rather not go into that.’

      She went quiet, thinking, finally deciding, ‘I suppose you could stay at my place.’

      ‘You mean it?’

      ‘I could do with the company. Since arriving in this town, I seem to have spent all my time talking to the walls. Plus, I’d like to further research the problem of you being unable to imagine me naked.’

      He scrambled to his feet, pulse quickening at the prospect of moving in with her. ‘I can imagine you naked,’ he insisted, hoping to impress her with his etiquette. ‘I just choose not to.’

      ‘Even odder.’

      ‘What’s the rent?’ he asked, like it mattered.

      ‘No rent.’

      ‘Bond?’

      ‘No bond.’

      ‘References?’

      ‘No references.’

      ‘Demons?’

      ‘Demons?’ she asked.

      ‘Are there any head-sucking demons?’

      ‘Not that I’ve noticed. Do you want me to get you some?’

      ‘No chance.’ And not altogether successfully, he fought back the urge to laugh like an idiot. ‘Are there any catches at all?’

      ‘None. Just a place to live and the pleasure of my company. So, how about it?’

       eleven

      Clack. First thing next morning, something dropped through Lucy Smith’s letter box and hit the mat. Yawning, straight from bed, she shambled from her room and collected the buff, windowed envelope.

      She checked the back; no sender’s address. Curious, she tore the bitter envelope open with her teeth then pulled out the crisp, white paper.

      Discarding envelope on floor, she unfolded the note. It read:

      Mz Lucille Smuth,

      77, Osmosis Tenements, Dead End Street, Wheatley 2

      (April 15)

      Drear Mz Smuth;

      Please make an appointment to see me at the erliest oppurtunity, to discuss staff and student complaints that you have an altitude problem.

      Yours

      Gerald Soldacre,

      Principal, Wheatley Pollytecnick.

      Lucy frowned. Meanwhile the phone began to ring. She went to answer it.

      Altitude problems?

       twelve

      Danny СКАЧАТЬ