"Littleford, Clare - Death Duty" - читать интересную книгу автора (Littleford Clare)

and I had smiled back, trying to place his face, trying to remember
where he knew me from, where I knew him from. And then it had
happened, but I couldn't remember his words, just that slow certainty
saturating me, and trying to think, trying to see how I could get away,
and stepping towards the shop doorway. I could remember pushing open
the door, and then I was falling, before I even felt the blow I was
falling, and I didn't see the floor, I didn't see myself hit the
floor.

Four

woke early and lay trying to doze for a long time. Outside, I could
hear the traffic building up on Sherwood Rise, heading into the city
centre. I didn't want to acknowledge that it was morning, but my brain
was too alert to allow me to sleep again. My head ached and the cut on
my scalp felt sore and swollen; I didn't want to sit up and feel the
full effect of the pain. I heard Alex get up and go to the bathroom,
and then the toilet flush and his footsteps going lightly down the
stairs. I didn't want to face him just then, so I lay where I was
until I could no longer deny being awake, then I put on my dressing
gown and went down to the front room.

The TV was tuned to the breakfast news and Alex was sitting on the sofa
eating toast, with a mug of tea on the carpet by his feet. He was
already dressed; even his tie was in place.

"Sleep well?" he asked, glancing up at me. I nodded. "How are you
feeling?"

"Fine," I said. "It's a bit sore round the stitches, but no major
damage."

"Oh, you'll be right as rain in no time," he said.

I just smiled and didn't say anything. He looked at me for a moment,
then sipped his tea and looked back at the TV screen. I stifled
another yawn and tried to think about what I was going to do today, but
I had no ideas. All those times I had wished I could just take a day
off and do nothing the situation would have been funny if it wasn't for
the dull pain in my head.

"When are the police coming round?" he asked.

"Not sure," I said. "Later."

I had wanted to forget about their visit until it happened, but now
that he had mentioned it I knew the thought would stay with me. I had
dreamed about the attack, I remembered that now the familiarity of that
feeling, that slight edge of sickness, and seeing the attacker's face
close to mine. I had dreamed that he had pushed his face into mine,