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

`Yes, because it means you can survive the death of the body. Wouldn't you like to think we would still be together?'

'Obviously I would.' He sounded as though they were discussing a dream - pleasant but unreal. `But if there is life after death, then it exists whether or not you mess around with this other thing.'

They leaned on the railing. An oil tanker glided massively by, leading its brood of tugboats. Above the plateau, the kite's tail described the wind. On the far bank of the Mersey, fumes streamed from tall chimneys, concrete pens with black felt tips. Chimneys like fat stumpy mountains were manufacturing their own clouds. The smoke vanished in the enormous empty sky.

`I wasn't being honest before,' Bill said abruptly. `I said I would help you, but that isn't true, because I wouldn't know how. I feel inadequate.'

`Oh, Bill, there's no need -

`No, let me speak now. No interruptions.' He gazed across the river; the glare of the sky seemed not to touch his eyes. `I just don't want us to grow like my parents,' he said. `I never told you, but it used to be like bloody Northern Ireland at home. My father was a Catholic, my mother was a Proddy - she took Catholic lessons so as to get married. Religious battles every night at teatime.'

`Never mind, Bill, you've left that behind.'

`You're right. And I had to do it on my own.' His nails plucked at his moustache, like tweezers; hairs drifted away on the wind. `They wanted me to follow them in the shop, you know. They used to say I could always write between customers. They never actually tried to discourage me from studying, but I could always tell they thought I wouldn't make it, not having been to grammar

school. Well,' he said defiantly, `I did make it, and I'm where I wanted to be.'

Why did she feel obscurely accused? `I know you are,' she said, and after a pause, `So am LU

'Are you? I hoped you were. I couldn't have made it without you.' His smile was tentative, almost pleading. `I can't help it,' he said, `I feel threatened.'

`Threatened by what?'

'By what you've been saying. I know you think I should be more amenable to change. Maybe I planned ahead too rigidly, but I thought that was what you wanted. But this is more than change. Suddenly I feel I don't know you.'

`Really?'

'No, not really. Just over this one thing. But Ro -please don't encourage it. Please, I'm asking you. You don't want to have to go back on drugs.'

`It hasn't happened since that night. For many people it happens once in a lifetime.'

`Just don't encourage it, that's all I'm saying. Let me return that book to the library for you.'

`There's no need for that,' Rose said sharply. `In any case, I'll have no time to read it before we leave. Don't worry, Bill, I'm all right now. Truly I am, now that I've told you.' Certainly she felt relieved, though perhaps only that she'd discharged the task.

As they turned toward home she saw the kite. Its long tail sketched great restless loops, wild yet graceful. The kite soared, plunged towards the ground, soared again as though drawn by the intensity and vastness of the sky. Bill took her hand. His fingers felt as though they were caging hers.

Thirteen

Bavaria calmed her.

Life had the lingering pace and taste of beer. During the day they explored Munich; Rose had never seen so many churches - cool forests of pillars, blossomings of stucco. At twilight they took Gerhard's cat hunting fieldmice while they strolled among the Aschheim cornfields, startling pheasants which startled them. Gerhard was in Frankfurt, sorting out problems for one of his authors.

Soon Jack and Diana had arrived. Before long the women had found an excuse to talk alone. Diana had guessed that Rose's psychically gifted friend was Rose herself. She'd listened enthralled, and had accepted everything - even the masked group which had seemed to call Rose out of her body, and which Diana felt had been a magical rite of some kind, invoking anyone or anything that might be near, not necessarily Rose. `You mustn't waste your gifts,' she'd said, her tone canonizing Rose. `Suppose you can use them to help other people? Just think how much you'll grow as you develop them.'

Rose wasn't so sure, but it seemed not to matter; she had left her problems behind. And now it was twilight, and Munich was turning into a dream.

Lions crouched half-buried in the facades of buildings. Gilded clocks shone high in the air, holding the last rays of the sun. Slate decorations on the capitals of pillars flapped away into the sky, for they were pigeons. Massive swordsmen the colour of mist stood on guard above the streets. Cherubs with faces smooth as eggs supported balconies. They looked peaceful as the first hour of