"China Mieville - King Rat" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mieville China)

bonfire, someone clearing his allotment. Saul set off
down the hill towards the library.

He stopped at a takeaway and ate as he walked,
moving slowly to avoid spilling soy sauce and vegetables
down himself. Saul was sorry the sun had gone


10




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down. Willesden lent itself to spectacular sunsets. On
a day like today, when there were few clouds, its low
skyline let the light flood the streets, pouring into the
strangest crevices; the windows that faced each other
bounced the rays endlessly back and forth between
themselves and sent it hurtling in unpredictable directions;
the rows and rows of brick glowed as if lit from
within.

Saul turned into the backstreets. He wound
through the cold until his father's house rose before
him. Terragon Mansions was an ugly Victorian block,
squat and mean-looking for all its size. It was fronted
by the garden: a strip of dirty vegetation frequented
only by dogs. His father lived on the top floor. Saul
looked up and saw that the lights were on. He climbed
the steps and let himself in, glancing into the darkness
of the bushes and scrub on either side.

He ignored the huge lift with its steel-mesh door,
not wanting its groans to announce him. Instead he
crept up the flights of stairs and gently unlocked his
father's door.

The flat was freezing.

Saul stood in the hall and listened. He could hear
the sound of the television from behind the sitting
room door. He waited, but his father was silent. Saul
shivered and looked around him.