"Campbell, Ramsey - The Parasite 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Campbell Ramsey)

At last his face came into focus. The bedside lamp illuminated his halo of rumpled hair. She managed not to flinch, though the sensation of flesh stroking flesh was alien, too intense. `It wasn't a nightmare,' she babbled. `I wasn't here. I didn't know where I was.'

`It's all right. You were here. I was trying to wake you for about a minute.'

A minute! How long had he lain snoring, unaware of her plight? `I was outside my body,' she said through twitching lips. `I couldn't get back. I could feel everything I touched.'

`No reason why not,' he said reassuringly.

`I don't mean that.' Her body felt more stable now; the hectic feverishness was fading. `I could feel everything more vividly than when I'm in my body.'

`I've never dreamed that.' He frowned, apparently reminded of something. `Look - ' he said, then seemed to think better of continuing, at least for the moment. `Shall I get you a drink or something?' he suggested. When she clung to him, unable to articulate her dread of being left alone, he said `All right, I'll stay awake until you're ready to sleep again.'

As she felt now, that might be never. Though he did his best to stay awake, in an hour he was snoring. Perhaps he had taken her silence for sleep, but in fact it hid her struggles to tell him what had happened, to find words that might convince him.

No doubt he-had settled into comfortable dreams. She turned nervously, seeking a position in which she would feel locked within her body. There was none. The bedside lamp shone steadily, but was far less reassuring than her childhood nightlight used to be. The walls and the ceiling looked frail, worthless as protection. Eventually dawn tinged the curtains. The soft light made her think of a searcher, reaching stealthily into her room.

Eleven

`I'm not quite sure how I can help you,' Colin said.

Rose was sitting in the dining-room. Framed diplomas decorated one wall. The table had been banished to the living-room; a desk had taken its place. The couch which the table had ousted stood diagonally opposite the desk. The rest of the room was Mrs.. Winter's, but there was no sense of her presence, nor of any presence but the Hays'.

Rose sat on the couch. Beyond the closed kitchen door, Gladys was muttering over her preparations for dinner, rebuking ingredients peevishly. Beyond the window, the lawn looked moistly new. Unkempt leaves pressed their veins against the greenhouse windows. Trees, intricate masses of green fans, swayed above the wall. Momentarily, until she controlled herself, Rose experienced their woodenness, their inner life.

She felt disappointed, almost betrayed, and worse. She had hoped Colin would explain everything. For days she had made attempts, progressively more futile, to think what to say to Bill. With each attempt her own conviction faded. Mightn't she have simply dreamed that she wasn't dreaming, and that her sensations were extraordinarily vivid? None of this helped her sleep, for she was afraid to repeat the nightmare.

At least she was able to admit her insomnia to Bill, who'd agreed there was no harm in seeking Colin's advice. It was Saturday; presumably his weekends were his own. At his front door she'd felt timid, ashamed of herself; she had sounded like Gladys. `Are you very busy?'

'No, not at all. Just dealing with some correspondence.' He wore a roll of Sellotape on one finger. `In fact I'm glad to see you. We were rather wondering if our party had put you off.'

`No, of course not. What made you think that?'

`Well-' He hesitated. `Well, perhaps I was unduly harsh with your friend. A case for treatment rather than for retorts, wouldn't you say? But I did feel he'd outstayed his welcome.'

`Oh good heavens, he wasn't our friend. We didn't know what we were inviting. As a matter of fact, perhaps you did some good indirectly. Hilary - you remember Hilary - finally plucked up the courage to leave him.'

He frowned slightly. `Relationships aren't as stable as they used to be - like everything else, I fear. Still, there's no point in suffering a partner who is out of sympathy with one.'

`I don't know about that. One shouldn't admit defeat too easily.'

`You're absolutely right. I'm talking only about extreme cases.' He'd ushered her into his office, and was tidying his desk, stacking envelopes, clearing small plastic containers into a drawer. `Excuse my bringing you in here,' he said. `We'll go through in a moment, where it's more comfortable.'

Wasn't that her cue to tell him why she was here? Before she could make herself speak, he said `I must tell you that you were the star of our party. All our friends were most impressed by you.'

Her smile, and its wideness, took her unawares. `Thank you,' she said, blushing.

`I hope that makes it seem worthwhile in retrospect. Perhaps I'm being over-analytical, but I thought you seemed upset by the party game.'

`Which party game?'