The Thief of Always. Clive Barker

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СКАЧАТЬ the grass, his hands in his pockets, like the lord of all he surveyed, calling to Wendell as he approached the trees.

      ‘Can I come up?’

      ‘If you’ve got a head for heights,’ Wendell dared him.

      The ladder creaked as he climbed, but he made the platform without missing a step. Wendell was impressed.

      ‘Not bad for a new boy,’ he said. ‘We had two kids here couldn’t even get half-way up.’

      ‘Where’d they go?’

      ‘Back home, I s’pose. Kids come and go, you know?’

      Harvey peered out through the branches, upon which every bud was bursting.

      ‘You can’t see much, can you?’ he said. ‘I mean, there’s no sign of the town at all.’

      ‘Who cares?’ said Wendell. ‘It’s just grey out there anyway.’

      ‘And it’s sunny here,’ Harvey said, staring down at the wall of misty stones that divided the grounds of the House from the outside world. ‘How’s that possible?’

      Wendell’s answer was the same again: ‘Who cares?’ he said. ‘I know I don’t. Now, are we going to start building, or what?’

      *

      THEY SPENT THE NEXT two hours working on the tree house, descending a dozen times to dig through the timbers heaped beside the orchard, looking for boards to finish their repairs. By noon they’d not only found enough wood to fix the roof, but they had each found a friend. Harvey liked Wendell’s bad jokes, and that who cares? which found its way into every other sentence. And Wendell seemed just as happy to have Harvey’s company.

      ‘You’re the first kid who’s been real fun,’ he said.

      ‘What about Lulu?’

      ‘What about her?’

      ‘Isn’t she any fun?’

      ‘She was okay when I first arrived,’ Wendell admitted. ‘I mean, she’s been here months, so she kind of showed me the place. But she’s got weird the last few days. I see her sometimes wanderin’ around like she’s sleep-walkin’, with a blank expression on her face.’

      ‘She’s probably going crazy,’ Harvey said. ‘Her brain’s turning to mush.’

      ‘Do you know about that stuff?’ Wendell wanted to know, his face lighting up with ghoulish delight.

      ‘Of course I do,’ Harvey lied. ‘My Dad’s a surgeon.’

      Wendell was most impressed by this, and for the next few minutes listened in gaping envy as Harvey told him about all the operations he’d seen: skulls sawn open and legs sawn off; feet sewn on where hands used to be, and a man with a boil on his behind that grew into a talking head.

      ‘You swear?’ said Wendell.

      ‘I swear,’ said Harvey.

      ‘That’s so cool.’

      All this talk brought on a fierce hunger, and at Wendell’s suggestion they climbed down the ladder and wandered into the House to eat.

      ‘What do you want to do this afternoon?’ he asked Harvey as they sat down at the table. ‘It’s going to be really hot. It always is.’

      ‘Is there anywhere we can swim?’

      Wendell frowned. ‘Well, yes …’ He said doubtfully. ‘There’s a lake round the other side of the House, but you won’t much like it.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘The water’s so deep you can’t even see the bottom.’

      ‘Are there any fish?’

      ‘Oh sure.’

      ‘Maybe we could catch some. Mrs Griffin could cook ’em for us.’

      At this, Mrs Griffin, who was at the stove piling up a plate with onion rings, gave a little shout, and dropped the plate. She turned to Harvey, her face ashen.

      ‘You don’t want to do that,’ she said.

      ‘Why not?’ Harvey replied. ‘I thought I could do whatever I wanted.’

      ‘Well yes, of course you can,’ she told him. ‘But I wouldn’t want you to get sick. The fish are … poisonous, you see.’

      ‘Oh,’ said Harvey, ‘well maybe we won’t eat ’em after all.’

      ‘Look at this mess,’ Mrs Griffin said, fussing to cover her confusion. ‘I need a new apron.’

      She hurried away to fetch one, leaving Harvey and Wendell to exchange puzzled looks.

      ‘Now I really have to see those fish,’ Harvey said.

      As he spoke, the ever-inquisitive Clue-Cat jumped up on to the counter beside the stove, and before either of the boys could move to stop him he had his paws up on the lip of one of the pans.

      ‘Hey, get down!’ Harvey told him.

      The cat didn’t care to take orders. He hoisted himself up on to the rim of the pan to sniff at its contents, his tail flicking back and forth. The next moment, disaster. The tail danced too close to one of the burners and burst into flames. Clue-Cat yowled, and tipped over the pan he was perched upon. A wave of boiling water washed him off the top of the stove, and he fell to the ground in a smoking heap. Whether drowned, scalded or incinerated, the end was the same: he hit the floor dead.

      The din brought Mrs Griffin hurrying back.

      ‘I think I’m going to go and eat outside,’ Wendell said as the old woman appeared at the door. He snatched up a couple of hot dogs, and was gone.

      ‘Oh, my Lord!’ Mrs Griffin cried when she set eyes on the dead cat. ‘Oh … you foolish thing.’

      ‘It was an accident,’ Harvey said, sickened by what had happened. ‘He was up on the stove—’

      ‘Foolish thing. Foolish thing,’ was all Mrs Griffin seemed able to say. She sank down on to her knees, and stared at the sad little sack of burned fur. ‘No more questions from you,’ she finally murmured.

      The sight of Mrs Griffin’s unhappiness made Harvey’s eyes sting, but he hated to have anyone see him cry, so he fought back his tears as best he could and said:

      ‘Shall I help you bury him?’ in his gruffest voice.

      Mrs Griffin looked round. ‘That’s very sweet of you,’ she said softly. ‘But there’s no need. You go out and play.’

      ‘I don’t want to leave you on your own,’ Harvey said.

      ‘Oh, СКАЧАТЬ