"Ian R. MacLeod - Nina" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macleod Ian R)

"Hey!" Max pushed away his breakfast trolley and lifted himself to his feet.
"Don't take it like that. I'm all ears. Really, I'm all ears."

"I have a sample," the little man said, and reached into his pocket.

As usual, Max and Nina took lunch that day at the bistro down in the square.
Max
much preferred the dining room at the Corienne, but Nina liked to sit in the
splashes of shade thrown by the olive trees. Sometimes they argued about it,
but
-- as with everything else when it came to Nina -- Max always gave in. It was
a
typical day here on the island. Every day was typical. The sea was shimmering
blue between the white angles of the houses and the pavement was hot enough to
fry, but still the young ones came and went with their jeeps and scooters,
shaking the siesta by its sleepy tail. They always waved at Nina, and Nina
waved
back.

Max squinted at the finance pages, half eaten bits of squid gleaming like wet
paint on the tin table.

Nina, sunglasses stacked on the billows of black hair, the straps of her
halter
white on deep brown skin, asked, "Darling, what are we going to do today?"

Max gazed at Nina. He dreaded that question. Every day, had to think up
something new to keep her entertained, then try to keep up. The alternative
was
that she went off with the other young people, and he couldn't face that.

Peeling off his cotton sunhat to mop the freckled top of his head, Max
suggested
they visit the viewpoint at the top of the island. He said, "Won't that be
great?"

"Since when . . ." Nina lifted her glass and twirled it to make the bubbles
rise
". . . since when have you taken to using silk?"

"Silk?"

She nodded toward his lap. "Blue silk."

It was still crumpled in his big hands, the cloth he'd used to soak up his
sweat. It still felt cool. He let it unfold in his palms like a flower,
wondering what it was, some napkin he'd picked up. Then he remembered the
little
man in khaki that could once have been cream or white, the card he'd been