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

their heads. The uncles bobbed around the chimney like huge balloons.

When Bobby awoke, the lanterns were out. There was only darkness, summer
chill.

As he crawled back to bed, a sudden sound made him freeze. Deep and feral,
some kind of agony that was neither pain nor grief, it started loud then came down
by notches to a stuttering sob. Bobby unfroze when it ended and hauled the blankets
up to his chin. Through the bedroom wall, he could hear the faint mutter of DadтАЩs
voice, MumтАЩs half-questioning reply. Then Uncle Lew saying goodnight. Slow
footsteps down the stairs. The front door slam. Clatter of an engine coming to life.

Sigh of gravel.

Silence.

****

Bobby stood at the far bank of the river. His hands clenched and unclenched. Three
years had passed. He was now ten; his brother Tony was sixteen.

Tony was out on the river, atop the oildrum raft that he and the other kids of
his age had been building all summer. The wide sweep that cut between the fields
and the gasometers into town had narrowed in the drought heat. Tony was angling a
pole through the sucking silt to get to the deeper current. He was absorbed, alone; he
hadnтАЩt noticed Bobby standing on the fissured mud of the bank. Earlier in the
summer, there would have been a crowd of TonyтАЩs friends out there, shouting and
diving, sitting with their heels clutched in brown hands, chasing Bobby away with
shouts or grabbing him with terrible threats that usually ended in a simple ducking or
just laughter, some in cutoff shorts, their backs freckled pink from peeling sunburn,
some sleekly naked, those odd dark patches of hair showing under their arms and
bellies. Maggie Brown, with a barking voice you could hear half a mile off, Pete
Thorn, who kept pigeons and always seemed to watch, never said anything, maybe
Johnnie Redhead and his sidekicks, even Trev Lee, if his hay fever, asthma, and
psoriasis hadnтАЩt kept him inside, or maybe the twin McDonald sisters, whom no one
could tell apart.

Now Tony was alone.

тАЬHey!тАЭ Bobby yelled, not wanting to break into his brotherтАЩs isolation, but
knowing he had to. тАЬHey, Tony!тАЭ

Tony poled once more toward the current. The drums shook, tensed against
their bindings, then inched toward the main sweep of the river.

тАЬHey, Tony, Mum says youтАЩve got to come home right now.тАЭ

тАЬAll right, all right.тАЭ

Tony let go of the pole, jumped down into the water. It came just below his