The Night Book (27 page)

The radio was advertising a leaders’ debate, due to take place that week. David would be back in town, and she would have to work out how to fit in a visit from Tam, when no one was around except Jung Ha. They needed total privacy. And then it occurred to her: what about the police? They’d been coming over unannounced in the last two weeks, with their site plans and their schedules. Still, she could work things out; she and Tam could deal with it. She felt a rush of amusement at the potential for slapstick: Roza and Tam slinking through the house, the diplomatic protection squad on their tail. It was all marvellously possible.

In this mood she breezed into work and spent time on her computer, rapidly clearing emails.

Her phone rang. A man said, ‘Hi. It’s Ron.’

‘Ron?’

‘Well, not really. It’s Ray. Ray Marden.’

‘Oh Ray, how’s it going?’ she said loudly.

There was a silence. She went on typing an email, holding the phone against her cheek.

He said, ‘I don’t want to intrude.’

‘It’s fine.’ Her fingers flew over the keys.

‘I’ve been through the notes you’ve made. I’m … it was good of you. It’s useful.’

Roza laughed. ‘No problem,’ she said carelessly, finishing the email and clicking on send. But she dropped the phone; it slithered down under her desk. She hauled it up by the tangled wire. ‘Shit. Ray, you there? Dropped the phone.’

He said, ‘If I had a couple of extra questions, how could I …?’

‘Fire away.’

‘I’ve got quite a few. I don’t want to take up your time. Could I post them to you?’

Roza leaned back in her seat and gazed out the window. It was another unseasonably mild and luminous day. The sun appeared from behind a cloud and angled in, warming her through the glass. She stretched, yawned, watching a seagull as it flew past the window and swooped up, riding the wind, turning and turning in the air. A feeling welled up in her, so reckless and happy …

‘Why don’t we have lunch?’ she said.

‘Lunch. Is that a good idea?’

‘Why not? You and I have lunch. So what? What is this, a police state?’ She laughed, watching the seagull turning in the bright air. Police state. It was exquisitely funny. In the distance she could see
the harbour, sparkling with points of light. She felt marvellous.

‘Mrs … Roza. Are you sure about what you’re saying?’

‘Don’t be such a cop.’ She laughed. ‘Do you eat lunch? Do you lunch?’ She wanted to shout with laughter. ‘Let’s just go crazy and …’ She lowered her voice, ‘d
o lunch.
’

Cheryl walked slowly past the door. Roza screwed up her face.

Ray said, ‘Are you all right?’

‘Ray, I am wonderful. I am sick of slinking around like I’ve committed a crime. I would like to do lunch, and I want you to come.’

He didn’t say anything.

Cheryl walked past the door again. She looked in.

‘Hello?’ Roza said into the phone. ‘You there?’

He hesitated, then said quietly, ‘I could meet you at that kiosk again. No one goes there except tourists. But …’

‘Now?’ Roza said. She reached under the desk for her bag.

‘In half an hour. Only …’

‘What?’ Roza had her eye on Cheryl. She directed the word at her, but Cheryl didn’t move.

Ray said, ‘Only my wife won’t be there. She’s working, at a conference.’

‘Well, why does that matter? I’m not going to eat you. We’re not going to eat each other.’ She laughed.

‘Christ,’ he said.

‘Stop worrying. We’ll buy a roll. We’ll eat it. We’ll chat about stuff. In private.’ Roza’s eyes were on Cheryl.

‘See you in half an hour,’ he said, and hung up.

Roza slammed down the phone. ‘What’s up?’ she said.

Cheryl leaned against the door and folded her arms.

‘Well?’ Roza looked through her bag, irritated. Cheryl was getting in the way of her mood. She licked her dry lips. Make-up spilled onto the desk; she scrabbled to pick it up.

Cheryl said sweetly, ‘You just sent me an email? Ten minutes ago? Saying we needed to discuss, oh, I don’t know, about five different things?’

Roza looked blank. ‘Oh. God. Sorry, I forgot.’ As she searched for her lipstick she could see Cheryl reflected in the window, still not moving. Roza turned, with a rush of anger. ‘What?’ she said.

Cheryl threw up her hands. ‘I thought you wanted to discuss …’

‘I don’t. I forgot. I’ve got something to do.’

‘Right. Have a nice lunch.’ Cheryl turned on her heel and walked out.

Roza looked at herself in the glass. Her eyes were large and intense, her hair stood out from her head. She radiated feeling, she was electric. Beyond her reflection the seagull wheeled and dived. The sun streamed in and warm air rippled up the glass. She had a sensation of intense physical luxury, a reckless, swooning feeling. She was free. Anything was possible; everything was beautiful. She was ready to meet the world; she defied it; she was exhilarated.

She sat on a wall outside the glasshouses, under a tall cypress tree. The palms sent strange curved shadows across the grass, spirals of darkness. She sipped a sugary fizzy drink; it was all she could stomach. A party of school children got out of a bus on the hill and was herded up the slope towards the museum. The air was still and the sun warmed her, and she liked the spicy smell of the cypress and the harsh quacking from the duck pond; everything was registering in eye and ear and skin — no mind. No mind, she thought. All body, no mind.

Ray came up the slope carrying a manila folder. He was wearing dark glasses and a peaked cap.

Roza leaned back against the cypress, crushing a bit of leaf in her hand.

‘Love your disguise,’ she said, grinning. He looked so ridiculous.

He lowered the glasses, studying her over the top of them. His mouth turned up in a pained sort of smile, but his eyes were troubled.

Roza got up and looked around. ‘Let’s go in there,’ she pointed. ‘I love the old glasshouses.’

They entered the hushed, musty, humid air of the first glasshouse. Light streamed down through the speckled panes as they passed under vast lush pots of hanging plants to the courtyard beyond. Ray followed her to the fish pond, where she stood looking at the lily pads, their coloured flowers trailing across the green water. Plump goldfish cruised lazily, flicking their tails and rising to catch little insects that skated jerkily across the surface. The courtyard was quiet and peaceful in the lemony sunlight. They were alone.

Roza lifted her eyes to the blue sky. The words went round in her head. All body. No mind. She drifted away from the pond to sit down on a wooden seat, and Ray paused at a slight distance, wary and undecided.

‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Don’t look so worried.’

He sat next to her, resting his folder on his knees. ‘Last time we met
you
were the worried one.’

‘I don’t care any more,’ Roza said. ‘Today I just want to do what I like.’

‘I had the idea I could mail you some questions. I don’t want to impose, make a problem for you.’

‘You don’t need to post anything. Just ring me and we’ll meet. Any time.’

He cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Hallwright. Last time we met we discussed the reasons why it maybe wasn’t such a good idea for you to meet me. Do you remember?’

Roza sighed. ‘I don’t care about that. I’m too happy.’ She turned her face up and half-closed her eyes. ‘When you look at the sky, do you see millions of particles, rising and falling in your eyes?’

He laughed, exasperated. ‘Christ,’ he said. He looked closely at her.

‘Look up,’ she said. ‘It’s so amazingly blue. What a beautiful sky. It’s like enamel.’

He tipped back his cap and squinted up at the sky. They sat side by side, their feet stretched out. A breeze came down over the glasshouse roof and swarmed across the surface of the pond, breaking it into ripples.

Roza said in a faraway voice, ‘I feel so good today. You know where I’d like to be? I’d like to be lying on the burning black sand far away. Lying on the sand under the sky, no one for miles, just the great desert of dunes.’ She glanced at him and said in a high voice, ‘It’s always a surprise to me who I like — and I like you. In fact I always liked you, or I wouldn’t have helped you.’ Her voice trailed off strangely.

He’d straightened up and was staring, shaking his head.

She said intently, ‘I’d like to be lying on a hot black dune, to be there and nowhere else. No mind, only body. To go back there, back where everything began, before everything was lost.’

He put up his hands. ‘Roza,’ he said. ‘Mrs Hallwright.’

‘To go back to what I lost.’

‘Roza, what are you … ?’

She gasped. ‘No one knows what I lost.’

She turned to him. Her eyes were desolate, the pupils large and black. She opened her mouth and screwed up her face in a silent howl; the words came out in a whispered scream, ‘Oh my God.’ She bent over, clutching her stomach.

He grabbed her arm, aghast.

‘You don’t know what I lost,’ she repeated. Agitated, she
attempted to rise and he gripped her arm instinctively, trying to quell her.

She looked at him. Tears spilled. ‘I want to go back there. Back to the black sand and kill myself.’

‘Roza, what the hell is this? What are you talking about? What have you lost?’

She laughed, a strange, spiteful little chuckle. ‘Your face. It’s hilarious. You should see the look on your face. I lost what’s most important. No, worse — I gave it away. I’m the living dead.’

Ray looked around. The courtyard was still empty. He needed to get up and leave straight away, but what might she do, wander around the Domain, go off, mention his name? For a moment he was furious with the crazy bitch. He needed to control this, get them both somewhere private.

She was looking at the pond with horror. The giant goldfish swam in slow circles, their scales gleaming dully in the murky water.

She said in a faint voice, ‘There was a wall of silver. I was happy. It was so beautiful. But a black hole opened up, and I fell through.’

Ray didn’t move.

She said, ‘Ray, this is the crisis of my life.’

A goldfish flashed its shining scales. Trails of bubbles. The flowers turning on the surface of the pond.

She said, ‘I helped you. Will you help me?’

‘What can I do?’

‘We need to get out of here,’ she said. ‘There’s a man standing behind the wire, and he’s looking straight at us.’

He told her what to do. He looked into her eyes trying to gauge how much she was taking in. He looked into the parallel universe, there inside her eyes. She said, ‘I hate the geese. I don’t want to walk near the geese.’

Ray pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

His voice was strained. ‘Go
around
the geese.’

‘Oh God, Ray,’ she laughed, and then swayed. He caught her arm and thought, She can’t drive. So what are we going to do about her car? He thought for a second. ‘Go around the geese, across the grass and I’ll pick you up on the road behind the hospital.’

‘Okay. No.’ She wrung her hands. ‘Can’t we walk together?’

‘I’ll go and get the car, and you go over there and wait. Can you do that?’

‘Yes. No.’

He looked at her carefully. Her face had traces of tears, but suddenly, in the midst of her crisis, she was laughing. He thought about packing her off across the park, driving away, never having any contact again. He groaned.

‘Right. Your crisis is my crisis,’ he said simply. ‘We go to your car. I’ll drive you home.’

The man behind the wire hadn’t moved.

They walked together. Ray couldn’t see anyone following. They reached her car and he slid into the driver’s seat, pleased to note the tinted windows.

‘You got a cellphone?’ he said.

She nodded. She licked her lips. Her face was pasty.

‘Ring your work and tell them you’re sick.’

She rang and spoke to someone. Her voice was high, but her tone was light, almost natural. He thought about leaving her to drive herself. But what if she had an accident on the way home? If she drew attention to herself, injured herself, any inquiry might lead to him. Was this paranoid? But they had been seen together. He might be questioned, blamed, there could be scandal. Journalists would go
crazy, make up stories. It was like being stuck in a web — every way he turned he was more tightly caught.

She put her phone away and said, subdued, ‘I’m all right now. I’ll go home.’

‘I don’t think you should drive,’ he said flatly.

She raised her chin, giving him a challenging, antagonistic look. ‘I’m a good driver.’

He let out a short laugh. ‘I’m sure you are. Under normal circumstances.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said evasively. ‘I’ve been upset, that’s all. I’m all right now.’

‘Oh come on. Stop the bullshit.’

‘What bullshit?’ She began pulling on the door handle but her hand slid off and she yelped with pain.

‘What have you been taking?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Roza. I’m police. Ex-police. You can’t bullshit me.’

She drew herself up. ‘How dare you.’

He smacked the steering wheel. ‘How dare I? How dare
you
? You know the risk I took coming here today. And you repay me by acting like a madwoman, in public. You know my reputation’s wrecked and you want to get me in more trouble.’

She retorted, ‘
You
asked for more help with your manuscript.
You
wanted something from
me
.’

He paused, then said heavily, ‘I only agreed to meet you today because I could tell there was something wrong with you. On the phone. I was … I don’t know … concerned.’

‘So you came to help
me.
’

‘Yes.’

‘Despite all your troubles. Despite the possible consequences of us being seen.’

‘Yes.’

‘You didn’t need to come.’

‘No.’

‘Well. Don’t blame me then.’

He laughed. ‘You’re unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.’

She was staring straight ahead. Her mouth twitched. She turned and glared, then her expression softened and she said, ‘You’re right, of course. I’m sorry.’