After Me Comes the Flood Read Online Free PDF

seeming satisfied he said, ‘Well – he’s a good man. A bit odd’ – he tapped his forehead, in a kind of self-mocking gesture – ‘but I like him – always did you know, even then.’
    The dim hall led away from the head of the stairs, the floor-boards pockmarked and pale with dust by the skirting boards. John could smell cigarette smoke, and behind that the sweet scent of damp and dust that only ever signals a roomful of books.
    The thin cat woke from its dark corner and tried to trip John, who gave it a furtive kick, and said: ‘No, we’ve never spoken – though I watched him tonight, standing there at the window and not coming out, as though he’s afraid of the dark – what is it? What bothers him?’
    Alex, pausing at the threshold, said: ‘If you ask him he’ll say, “It’s trouble with my heart.” And if you ask him what trouble, he’ll say, “It’s heavy.” There’s not much wrong with him really,’ he went on, turning the door handle. Then, as if he’d heard what John had barely thought, he grinned and with a careless affectionate blow to the shoulder said, ‘At least, not much more than the rest of us. Now then’ – the door swung open, and revealed Elijah sitting with Walker at a bare plywood table – ‘Hit me!’
    ‘Too late for all that.’ Walker, his shirt unbuttoned a little too far, deftly shuffled a pack of cards and knocked them on his knee. ‘Turns out the Preacher’s not a natural gambler. That old face is too truthful – we might as well be using glass cards. How much did you lose?’
    ‘One hundred and seventy-three pence.’ The older man tugged, regretful, at his beard. ‘You didn’t tell me it was all about lying. I’m no good at that.’
    ‘So I see. Sit down, won’t you?’ said Walker to John. ‘You’re always so keen on standing about.’
    John, obedient, sat at the table. It was stained and burned in places, and scattered with piles of copper coins and a discarded deck of cards too dog-eared for use. On one of the playing cards someone had printed EADWACER in cramped capitals, and John drew them towards him and began a slow careful shuffle. Beside him Elijah tapped out a slow beat on the table, and accompanied it with a low humming that seemed to resonate and shiver in the wood. The melody had an insistent familiar lilt, and John could almost have ended its phrases himself.
    A tin of Drum tobacco and several torn cigarette papers lay on the table, and there were two empty teacups that smelt strongly of whisky. Aside from the table, the room was the same as his own: there again was the narrow bed with its painted metal frame, and the same shabby shelves, though John saw enviously that these bowed under the weight of cloth- and leather-bound books.
    Behind him the uncurtained windows overlooked the lawn and showed a sickle moon. ‘Close the door,’ said Alex, ‘or Hester will hear, and I’ve had enough of her today.’ He rolled his eyes affectionately, and Walker reached out with his foot to shut the door. Its swing set up a faint rustle from somewhere behind John; wondering what caused it he turned to see that where the walls were bare of shelves they were covered, from roof to floor, in sheets of thin white paper printed with columns of black type. Each sheet was pinned at the upper corners and left free at its lower edge, so that they lifted in the wake of the door. John would have liked to reach forward and tug one from the wall to read it, but felt Walker’s pale eyes on him and affected not to have noticed.
    ‘What do you think?’ said Elijah, pointing over John’s shoulder. ‘It’s my patented storm prediction system.’
    ‘I see,’ said John, who saw nothing. ‘And does it work?’
    ‘Well, I don’t know yet, do I? But it’s a simple matter of wind direction.’ He surveyed the wall, clasping his hands across his stomach and tipping his head to one side. ‘Or, indeed, of there being any wind at all… Listen.’ He stood, then