Cannonbridge Read Online Free PDF Page B

blind and blackening in the moonless air;
    Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
    And men forgot their passions in the dread
    Of this their desolation...”
    Cannonbridge interrupts. “All this darkness... He thought it had aught to do with me?” He sounds hurt by the implication.
    “Not to do with you, sir. Not as you are. He said this was a potential in you only. He called it a possibility .”
    “You know I try my best, doctor, in spite of my confusion. To be brave. Philanthropic. To help.”
    “You do... You have... And yet...”
    “Yes?”
    “Forgive me, Mr Cannonbridge, it has been a long night. I have been drinking and I am not in my perfect mind.”
    Cannonbridge looks grave. “You sense something of this in me too?”
    Polidori does not reply.
    “Doctor?”
    “I want to thank you again—you understand—with all my heart for saving me. Heaven knows how much longer those men might have persisted had you not interrupted them with such vigour and force.”
    “You are most welcome. But there is more, I think, that you need to say?”
    Polidori swallows uncomfortably.
    “Doctor?”
    “I too have dreamed of you. More than once. Not, to be sure, as you are now but as, I am afraid, you will be.”
    “What have you seen? In these dreams of yours?”
    “Storm clouds, sir. Storm clouds in your future. And also, also in your wake...”
    “What?”
    “Something’s at your heels, Mr Cannonbridge. Something’s tracking you.”
    A moment’s silence. They have passed the Close now and begun to move on towards the outskirts. When Cannonbridge speaks again, he does not sound certain.
    “It’s late, doctor, and the night is full of shadows. Perhaps we are both of us permitting our imaginations to get the better of us. Perhaps I shall before long make some other, happier discovery.”
    Polidori bows his head. “I dare say you are right, sir.” He holds out his hand. “Thank you. Thank you again. My lodgings are not far. I’ll walk alone for the rest of the way.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Quite sure, thank you. I doubt my creditors will trouble me again tonight.”
    “Do you need money?” He pauses, considers. “In my wanderings I have often seen the efficacy of money. It seems to grant men great power, one above the other.”
    “Oh, but you’ve done enough, Mr Cannonbridge. More than enough. There’s no need.”
    A furrowed smile. “If you insist.”
    “I do.”
    “Then it’s been my pleasure.”
    They begin to shake hands but Polidori, only ever in fitful control of his emotions, turns the gesture into an embrace and clings tight to the other man. “I wish you luck, sir. I hope you’ll beat it, whatever’s coming. I hope the good man in you wins.”
    “Thank you,” says Cannonbridge as they disentangle. “I have a long journey yet, I fear. But I also wish you well.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    “So... It is to be goodbye, then?”
    “Yes, sir. It is to be goodbye, sir.”
    And with this, the two men part company—Polidori towards his lodging house, Cannonbridge the way they have already come.
    Not more than a minute or so after their farewell, Polidori, unable to staunch his curiosity, turns back. The street is empty and of Cannonbridge there is no sign. There are only shadows now and, in the distance, the dark and watchful silhouette of the spire.

 
     
    NOW
     
     
    T HE HOUSE ON Akerman Road hasn’t been cleaned for a month, though you might be forgiven for thinking that it has been a good while longer.
    Washing-up lies unattended and forlorn. Grime has been ground into carpets and rugs. Remnants are to be seen of old meals, baked bean stains and squashed tomato. Stigmata of battered fish and ketchup. Soap scum tide-marks in the bathroom sink. Take-away cartons sprawl on work surfaces, on sofa and floor. Staleness. Trapped, lethargic air. Everywhere decay.
    The occupant, however, is not at present in residence. Rather, he is in transit, clambering off his third train of the