Suckers

Начало книги

It wasn’t murder, in my opinion. Some people might have had trouble understanding that. I might have had trouble myself if I hadn’t been there when it happened. Afterwards, Duncan sank into a depression and stayed depressed for the next five years. By the time he managed to snap out of it, he had almost succeeded in convincing himself the whole thing had been a dark trick of his imagination. Almost, but not quite. Each time he noticed my left hand, he couldn’t help remembering what had happened to the top joint of the little finger. I caught him looking sometimes, but we never talked about what he was thinking. We didn’t have to. I just knew.

After thirteen years we were different people, leading different lives. Duncan had turned into a non-smoking teetotal vegetarian. And he had gone right off horror movies; he would turn the television off as soon as it threatened to broadcast anything with old dark houses, or women in black, or ooh-whee-ooh music, and no-one though this odd, least of all Lulu. She was squeamish too, and naturally assumed he was switching off on her account.

Читать дальше →