"where_do_you_go_when_the_lights_go_out" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chadbourn Mark)

Where Do You Go When
The Lights Go Out?
by Mark Chadbourn

"Don't ask me questions, Frank. It'll only end in
tears." More than the words, it's her expression I
remember most; I could never tell if it was
threatening or fearful, but that was Eve: she loved
being a mystery.

It's almost thirty-five years since I heard her make
that statement. I've got lines on my face, grey in my
hair, and after the exertion of yesterday my muscles
ache like an old, old man. But as I watched Eve
through that plexiglass door, hammering and
screaming for her life, I could see she was still as
young and beautiful as the day we met.

In the first instance, I loved her. Then, over time, my
emotions coalesced into a cold, focused hatred
hardened by a wasted life, a third of a century
frittered away with despair, endless searching and
sickening not-knowing. There, at the end, with Eve
pleading silently and impotently for help, I don't
know what I felt. And today... Today I finally
understand what it was all about.



Eve walked into the coffee bar in Old Compton
Street like someone who had been cast adrift,
moving through the hissing steam of the cappuccino
machine with an intense, searching expression. She
reminded me of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday,
that odd combination of vulnerability, confidence
and aloofness, so noticeably out of place among the
competing skiffle groups and rock 'n' rollers with
dripping quiffs pretending they were in Memphis.
When she laid eyes on me she broke into such a
warm, open smile I shivered; it was as if she had
finally found what she was searching for.

It was the early sixties and there was a sense of
optimism in the air. Back then, before I'd been worn
down by events, I was bright and confident, filled
with hopes of making a name for myself as a painter.

"Don't sit on your own in a strange place. I'll keep
you company," I said, jumping to my feet as she
neared the table. "And I'll even buy you a coffee." I