Towards the eastern end of the townthere were two
enormous factories of glass and concrete.
Not even enough wind to stir the ashes ofthe
fire.
The one completely hopelessthing would be to tell
her just where Id spent that week, and why. I took the left-handturning, and a
minute later I was lost.
I only wanted toget my nerve back before the bad
times begin. I happened to know theaddress because Id stayed there some years
earlier. For anyone who has to earn his living such thoughts arejust plain
foolishness.
One thing Ive noticed about the human mind is that
it goes injerks.
I was still thinkingthe same thoughts as I walked
home through the shivery streets.
They never have any change inNettlefield, not even
at the pub.
At this moment I couldnt distinguish either of
them.
Even the tombstonestell you the same story. Its
just round the cornerall the time, and we all know its there. I wanted to get back
there, justfor a week, and let the feeling of it soak into me. Theres stilltime to
do the respectable thing.
Themystery of their lives, down there under water.
And the huge black fish still gliding round it.
Just a voice, a bitof an eddy in the air. Because
does anyonewho isnt dead from the neck up doubt that theres a bad timecoming? I
wondered whether she was staying at the George, andmade vague plans to get off with
her.
I took the left-handturning, and a minute later I
was lost.
Its funny, thetremendous gloom that sometimes gets
hold of you late at night.
The kids, in any case, always stay at theseaside
for a month. Its a kind of vital juice that wevesquirted away until theres nothing
left. But of course shed find out sooner or later.