Observatory Mansions Read Online Free PDF Page B

concentration. Called the voices noises from her television. Later during the day someone had knocked on her door. The knock, she said, was a new knock. Was neither the knock of Peter nor the knock of Francis Orme.
    And?
    The knock had a voice with it.
    And what did it say?
    It said, Hello.
    And?
    It said, I know you’re in there I can hear your television.
    And what did you say?
    Nothing.
    Good.
    And then the knocking came back, and the voice with it.
    And what did the voice say?
    The voice said, I’m your new neighbour.
    And what did you say?
    Nothing.
    Good.
    And then the voice said, I hope we can be friends.
    And what did you say?
    Nothing.
    Good.
    And then the voice said, I’ll call back later, shall I?
    And what did you say?
    I said, No. Never.
    Very good.
    Then, explained Miss Higg, the voice and the knocking went away and never came back. We praised Miss Higg for her dialogue. We said, it’s all for the good of Observatory Mansions. Oh? she said. We said, it’s for the good of her privacy. Yes, she said, it was well done then.
    I asked her if there was anything about the voice that might describe its owner. Miss Higg thought it the voice of a woman, a young woman, probably in her twenties or thirties.
    We decided that through whatever means possible, the new resident must be out of Observatory Mansions within the week. I stroked my gloves – that white, that cotton – thinking hard. Claire Higg offered noise intrusions as a possibility. She proposed to keep her television set at all times (except during news broadcasts, documentaries, financial bulletins, weather reports, black and white films, wildlife programmes and police appeals) at its highest volume. Bugg and I thought this a good beginning. I suggested that, for my part, I follow the new resident wherever she went to try to discover what it was that made her want to live in this part of the city and what, if anything, might make her leave Observatory Mansions. Higg and Bugg thought this an excellent suggestion. But when it came to Bugg’s turn, he could think of nothing he could do to help.
    And so, after stroking my gloves for a few minutes, I came up with a task for him. Peter Bugg was, by use of the Porter’sladder kept in the basement, to climb up to the window of flat eighteen. Whilst the new resident was out he was to enter her flat, make a note of all her possessions and move those possessions about, shift their places. Place everything in a different order. This was sure to intimidate the new resident enormously. It would cause her great concern, not only for the safety of her possessions, which we were to move into different places, but also for the safety of her person, which we were not to touch. A person’s objects make up their identity, they are placed inside a person’s home according to their specific tastes. When a person’s objects are moved by an unseen force, it feels to that person as if their soul is being played with, as if someone were messing with their insides.
    If all the windows of flat eighteen were shut Peter Bugg was instructed to try to wedge one open, but if that was not possible then he should carefully smash a pane of glass. But he, poor Bugg, nervously sweating and crying, wondered if perhaps he wasn’t the man for the job and if he could possibly do something else. What would happen if the police became involved, he added, he would surely have left his finger prints everywhere. I told him to wear gloves. Poor Bugg didn’t have any so I leant him a pair of pink rubber ones. These I wore over my white gloves when I washed dishes.
    It’s nearly half past nine.
    Good night, Miss Higg.
    Good night, Francis Orme.
    Good night, Claire.
    Good night, Peter.
    And a little later …
    Good night, Francis.
    Good night, sir.

Glove diary .
    I felt comforted to be back in my bedroom. Everything, I thought, now that we had decided to take action, would soon be sorted out. The threat would be moved on, we would become a calm