All the Way Read Online Free PDF Page B

desert. And you know what? Nothing much will have changed.
    â€˜I’ll tell you something, my little chickadee. There are enough bombs in the silos to destroy the whole planet. Right now, in the Federal Republic of Germany alone, there is a thousand times more firepower than everything that blew up in the Second World War. Enough to make the Earth tilt on its axis. The dinosaurs disappeared all right. But in our case it’ll be our own fault. The first time since the advent of life that we’ll be part of a total self-destruction, not only of the species, but of its whole environment.’ He relights his Dunhill while he stares at the lake.
    â€˜My big girl. My sweet chickadee.’ His voice is raised, excited. He grabs her neck and jams her head under his bristly chin.
    â€˜Because, you see, under this lake, there’s a silo. Not a corn silo, right? For a long time I was sure I’d see them, from up above. You can’t see the Mayan designs when you’re stuck on the ground like a stupid bastard. But as soon as you fly, you can see their runways. All the little bits you can’t see from on the ground. I was sure I’d see the silos from the plane. But I’ve never seen them.’
    So (she says) there’s a silo under the school. Or under our house.
    The lake ended in a geyser and a long missile emerged from it slowly, heavily, flawlessly spinning.
    He took long crackling puffs on his cigarette. A moist smacking, an inhalation, then a long breath. A white wave that disappeared into his mouth and reappeared, paler.
    Monsieur Bihotz likes animals too.
    He always had the same urgent gesture, the same scalded look when he flicked the butt away.
    â€˜What are you talking about, chickadee. Monsieur Bihotz loves his dog.’
    He likes hedgehogs. And ducks.
    â€˜I don’t like animals. Do you get what I’m saying? But they exist. They’re there. For real. Not like lapdogs or hens. Not like domestic animals.
    â€˜Can I teach you one thing in life? Can you listen to me? Listen to me for real? Monsieur Bihotz is just a granny with a lapdog. Like his mother. He took over from her.’
    He got out of the car and walked along the edge of the lake. She didn’t dare follow him.
    He wasn’t going to put Lulu in the Animal Protection Society, was he ? she brooded.
    He walked along the edge of the lake as if he was in an airport, surrounded by an invisible crowd, the only person with a precise destination, the only necessary person. Frowning, his eyes vacant, in permanent jet lag. A very adult adult.
    She wanted to cry.
    He got back in the car.
    â€˜We’re not going to cry over a whale, one whale. We’re not going to bury it in the cemetery. We’d have to dig a hole as big as mother Bihotz.’
    She laughed grudgingly.
    â€˜But if it’s all the whales. A planet with only battery-farmed cows and abattoirs.’
    She leans closer, her nose under his ribs, right where the breathing happens. The smoke goes in and out in time with the heartbeats: a large, complex and mysterious machine. She almost feels safe and she dozes off, weary.
    â€˜She’s a little woman now,’ her father says to Georges.
    Georges looks at her. It’s rare that adults don’t know what to say, or rather it’s normal—there’s no possibility of conversation—but right now it’s a familiar silence.
    â€˜Ah, yes,’ her father says again, giving her his own special look too.
    Georges’ gaze is at the level of her breasts. Her nipples feel like they’re on fire. As if two eyes were opening in her chest, agonising, blind and exposed to scrutiny.
    They have a smoke before they leave and snigger together but it doesn’t seem to be about her (her father is saying the pharmacy woman is hot ).
    Do all women get this? Her mother knows they do, enough to say ‘fuck’ when her skirt is stained—she quickly wets the bit of skirt with