Hell Is Always Today Read Online Free PDF Page B

voice theatrically. “Give me room, good people. Give me room.”
    Those near at hand crowded round and Mary Beresford pushed her way to the front followed by Joanna who looked decidedly uncertain about the whole thing.
    “What on earth are you doing, Bruno?”
    Faulkner ignored her. “A little bit of hush, please.”
    He gave a terrible cry and his right hand swung down, splintering the block, scattering several glasses. There was a sudden gasp followed by a general buzz of conversation. Grace cried out in delight and Mary Beresford pushed forward.
    “When are you going to start acting your age?” she demanded, her accent slipping at least forty-five years. “Smashing the place up like a stupid teenage lout.”
    “And why don’t you try minding your own business, you silly old cow?”
    The rage in his voice, the violence in his eyes reduced the room to silence. Mary Beresford stared at him, her face very white, the visible expression one of unutterable shock.
    “How dare you,” she whispered.
    “Another of those deathless lines of yours.”
    Marlowe grabbed at his arm. “You can’t talk to her like that.”
    Faulkner lashed out sideways without even looking, catching him in the face. Marlowe staggered back, clutching at the bar, glasses flying in every direction.
    In the general uproar which followed, Joanna moved forward angrily. “I think you’d better leave, Bruno.”
    Strangely, Faulkner seemed to have complete control of himself. “Must I?” He turned to Grace. “Looks as though I’m not wanted. Are you coming or staying?” She hesitated and he shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
    He pushed his way through the crowd to the door. As he reached it, Grace arrived breathless. “Changed your mind?” he enquired.
    “Maybe I have.”
    He helped her on with her plastic mac. “How would you like to earn a fiver?”
    She looked at him blankly. “What did you say?”
    “A fiver…just to pose for me for a couple of minutes.”
    “Well, that’s a new name for it.”
    “Are you on?” he said calmly.
    She smiled. “Okay.”
    “Let’s go then.”
    He opened the door and as Grace Packard went out into the hall, Joanna emerged from the crowd and paused at the bottom of the steps. Faulkner remembered her birthday present and took the leather case from his pocket. “Here, I was forgetting.” He threw the case and as she caught it, called, “Happy birthday.”
    He went out, closing the door and Joanna opened the case and took out the pearls. She stood there looking at them, real pain on her face. For a moment she was obviously on the verge of tears, but then her aunt approached and she forced a brave smile.
    “Time to eat, everybody. Shall we go into the other room?” She led the way, the pearls clutched tightly in her hand.
     
    In Faulkner’s studio the fire had died down, but it still gave some sort of illumination and the statues waited there in the half-light, dark and menacing. The key rattled in the lock, the door was flung open and Faulkner bustled in, pushing Grace in front of him.
    “Better have a little light on the situation.”
    He flicked the switch and took off his coat. Grace Packard looked round her approvingly. “This is nice…and your own bar, too.”
    She crossed to the bar, took off her mac and gloves, then moved towards the statues. “Is this what you’re working on at the moment?”
    “Do you like it?”
    “I’m not sure.” She seemed a trifle bewildered. “They make me feel funny. I mean to say, they don’t even look human.”
    Faulkner chuckled. “That’s the general idea.” He nodded towards an old Victorian print screen which stood to one side of the statues. “You can undress behind that.”
    She stared at him blankly. “Undress?”
    “But of course,” he said. “You’re not much use to me with your clothes on. Now hurry up, there’s a good girl. When you’re ready, get up on the dais beside the others.”
    “The others?”
    “Beside the statues. I’m