"David Garnett - Still Life" - читать интересную книгу автора (Garnett David)

"Then I'll need you there to talk business. You're supposed to be my
manager."
"And you've given up portraits," said Robert. "Remember? Changed
your mind already?"
"No, I haven't. And Graham Anderson doesn't need another portrait. He
stood in front of the painting I did of him, and he looked exactly the same.
That was twelve years ago, and he doesn't seem to have aged a day. He
must be in his mid-fifties by now, but he doesn't look it."
"Must be one of those immortals." Robert sat up and leaned back
against the headboard. "He probably is, come to think about it. It makes
sense, him being the prime minister."
"What do you mean?"
Robert scratched his head. "You must have heard the rumor going
around a few years ago, about a treatment for prolonging life?" He glanced
at Corinne, but she shook her head. "No?" he said. He shrugged. "Well,
there was this story that immortality had been discovered тАФ but naturally
it was being kept for the rich, for the people in power. People like the
Right Honorable Sir Graham Anderson, prime minister."
"But it would have been on television."
"Oh, Corinne, you're so naive sometimes. This is England, woman. The
only country in the world that doesn't have laws prohibiting its people
from doing things тАФ it has laws that permit them to do things."
Corinne wasn't really listening. She was thinking about the Queen
Mother, and how she didn't seem to have aged, either; but that was only
six years, she supposed. "Would the royal family be included in this
conspiracy of yours?" she asked.
"Of course."
"Then how come the king is dead, the last king."
"The king is dead," said Robert. "Long live the king. The answer is
simple: Even being immortal isn't much protection when your state coach
and you inside get blown up into millions of tiny pieces."
"You don't believe all that, do you?" Corinne said. "About some people
being immortal?"
"You must be joking." Robert slid down under the duvet again. "It must
be nice, though," he added sleepily, "to live forever."
Corinne remembered all the paintings that had lined the walls of the
National Gallery, only a part of her output over the past two decades. To
live forever?
"I can't think of anything worse," she said.



Robert didn't join Corinne when she accepted the prime minister's
invitation, and Sir Graham arranged for her to be picked up by helicopter
and taken to Chequers, where he was spending the weekend discussing the
new emergency regulations. Corinne was surprised that the rest of the
inner cabinet didn't stay for dinner; when they sat down at the table, there
were only three of them тАФ herself; Sir Graham; and his wife, Lady Carole.
They spoke of everything and nothing, but all the time Corinne couldn't
help thinking what Robert had told her about immortality. Neither of the