Drybread: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

had not mentioned any name at all throughout
his account.
    'Maybe I should have just had the massage.' Nicholas's
tone was considered, rather than regretful. 'I was thinking
before you came about our inability as a society to express
ourselves about sex. It's so sought after, so compulsively
essential, yet almost all our language concerning it is
derogatory. To tell someone to get fucked should be to
wish them great pleasure and fulfilment, but we mean the
opposite.'
    'I feel fine,' said Theo.
    'Odd though, isn't it.'
    It's just that you've become meditative after getting a
shot away. Blood is slowly getting back to your brain.'
'Language is interesting, that's what I mean. It should
be closer to experience.'
    'Showtime, Nick,' said Theo. 'That's what you should
concentrate on. Keeping all the balls in the air, managing
a three ring circus. At your age you're lucky to manage any
showtime, I'd say.'

5
    Theo liked to run. At the end of the day at the paper, or
early, before he began work. He ran down the cycle tracks
that parallel the railway line through Papanui, and then into
Hagley Park. The park has a changing exercise congregation.
In the early mornings many are women with dogs: in the
evenings there are more men, some with singlets bearing
esoteric lettering. On winter mornings frost encourages a
vigorous pace; on summer evenings mood and movement
are more languorous. There are cyclists too, on the sealed
paths through Hagley, some with leashed dogs which
patter, or lope, according to their size and the speed of
their owners.
    He liked to run. As a young guy he had run to build
fitness for other sports, and when he gave them up he
continued the running. Journalism is a sedentary, stodgy
career. Theo liked the perseverance of jogging, the sense
of progress and the evasion it provided. You could
concentrate on the physical endeavour for the duration
of the run, and so keep at bay those things that gather
about you when you're at rest. He ran a lot during the end
of his marriage. When he was going through the divorce,
Anna, who knew all about fitness, said how slim he was.
He felt physically better that he had for years, though his
life was crap, though he could laugh only at the misfortune
of others, though sometimes at the paper he went into the
old photography room and stood alone in the dark there
for minutes at a time.
    It was after the visit to Drybread, and while Theo was
running, that he first noticed the parson. He came later to
call him that because he was bald and had an expression
of compassionate resignation on his long face. Maybe
what Penny had said about the police and her husband
wanting to find her had remained with Theo; maybe it was
the way the parson didn't look away when Theo became
aware of his gaze at the traffic lights. Theo had seen him
before, and the polished, maroon Honda Civic which
had a bright chrome ball on its tow-bar and was trailing
a rubber strap. Something to do with static electricity
someone told Theo, which seemed odd, as rubber is a poor
conductor. He crossed into the park and ran through the
practice fairways of the golfcourse. For a minute or two he
wondered where he'd seen the parson; whether he was new
to the paper's clerical staff, or worked in a shop that Theo
went to regularly. Although the guy looked like a parson, it
was highly unlikely he was one — Theo didn't go to church,
and wasn't on any ecclesiastical visiting list.
    Theo saw him again a few days later as he reached home
after work. Well, rather he saw the car, which was parked
facing away on the opposite side of the street. The same
high polish, same chrome ball on the tow-bar and trailing
strap. SJ were the letters on the number plate before the
numbers. Saviour Jesus perhaps. Theo couldn't see anyone
in the car, and when he'd parked his Audi in the drive, he
walked over and past the Honda. He visualised the parson
crouched between the seats, ungainly, ignominious, and
with a meek and sheepish face, but the car was