Kethani Read Online Free PDF Page B

said. “Of all the hundreds in Britain?” He shook his head, some unnameable emotion making words difficult. “What... what does she want?”
    “To see you, of course. She wants to apologise. She told me she’s learned a great many things up there, and one of them was compassion.”
    Oh, Christ, he thought.
    “Susanne,” he said, “I don’t think I could face your mother right now.”
    She turned to him. “Please,” she said, “Please, this time, can’t you make the effort—for me? What do you think it’s been like, watching you two fight over the years?”
    Lincoln baulked at the idea of meeting this resurrected Barbara, this reconstructed, compassionate creature. He wanted nothing of her pity.
    “Look,” Susanne said at last, “she’s leaving soon, going to some star I can’t even pronounce. She wants to say goodbye.”
    Lincoln looked towards the horizon, at the coruscating tower of the Station.
    “We used to walk a lot round here when I was young,” Susanne said. There was a note of desperation in her voice, a final appeal.
    Lincoln looked at his watch. It was almost ten. They could easily make it to the Station by midday, if they set off now.
    He wondered if he would have been able to face Barbara, had she intended to stay on Earth.
    At last, Lincoln reached out and took his daughter’s hand.
    They walked down the hill, through the snow, towards the achingly beautiful tower of the Onward Station.

Interlude
    It was a freezing Tuesday evening and I was hurrying to the Fleece, anticipating the roaring fire and a pint or three of creamy Landlord ale, when I saw the muffled figure up ahead. It was a man, lagged in a greatcoat with a scarf bandaged around his ears. Only his eyes showed, as he leaned against the farm gate and stared over the snow-covered landscape at the bypass far below.
    He turned when I approached, and I realised with surprise that it was Jeffrey Morrow. “Jeff,” I said, “What the hell are you doing?”
    Something about his posture, the way he was slumped against the gate, alarmed me, and when I drew close enough to look in his eyes I saw the unshed tears there.
    In reply, he just turned to the bypass and pointed a gloved finger. “It happened there, Khalid. Two years ago tomorrow. That bend, right there.”
    I gripped his arm. “Jeff. Come on, I’ll get you a pint.”
    “I was at home, doing some marking. I was expecting Caroline around six... Six came and went, and she didn’t phone. I knew something was wrong, then. You see, she always phoned. I tried her mobile, of course. It was switched off. At seven, Khalid, I was about to phone the police. Then Richard came to the door and told me...”
    A single tear trickled down his cheek, freezing before it reached his mouth. He dashed it off as if in denial, as if to leave it there would be an admission of weakness.
    “And a month later, a sodding month later, Khalid, the Kéthani came...”
    I gripped his arm even tighter and felt an incredible wave of compassion for my friend. “Come on, Jeff. It’s freezing out here. Let’s get inside. You need a drink.”
    He straightened up and took a deep breath, then looked at me and smiled. “I’m fine, Khalid. Yes. A pint. My round, okay?”
    I smiled as we set off side by side. “I won’t argue, Jeffrey.”
    The main bar of the Fleece greeted us with warmth and the hum of conversation. We settled ourselves around our usual table and Jeffrey got the pints in. The usual faces were there, warming themselves before the open fire: Richard Lincoln and Ben Knightly.
    “No Zara tonight?” Richard asked.
    “Ploughed under with work,“ I said. “I told her I’d have a pint or two for her.”
    Jeffrey returned from the bar with a tray of Taylor’s Landlord. He smiled at me. There was no sign of the emotion he had experienced minutes earlier.
    At one point that evening, he said, “I’ve been having... I suppose you’d call it counselling... about what happened to Caroline.”
    Ben