The Crack Read Online Free PDF

‘What’s in it for them where we’re going?’
    At this, a head-scarfed woman of about fifty turned round. ‘Supper on the table at six when he gets home,’ she snapped out. ‘Wash it up. Darn the clothes. TV. Bed.’
    â€˜No more of that,’ suddenly chorused a whole section of the procession.
    â€˜Up with the baby at six,’ a youngish woman just behind Baba crooned in her ear. ‘Cereals for the school-goers. Sausages too. Vacuum the sitting-room.’
    â€˜No more of that,’ came a strong gust of sturdy voices.
    â€˜Stop at the launderette on the way back from work,’ the older woman continued. ‘Stand in the queue for the food when the shop’s closing anyway.’
    â€˜No more of that,’ Baba muttered with the others. She felt it only polite to join in. But where could this place be that had no cereals or vacuums or TV? She gazed anxiously at Noreen for the answer.
    â€˜Now you understand,’ Noreen laughed. ‘Look, Baba – why don’t you do the same?’
    There was a chorus of approval as Noreen tugged at her eyelids. A pair of what looked like dead black centipedes fluttered to the ground, and several of the women clapped.
    â€˜Do I have to get rid of mine too?’ Baba asked miserably. Already she wished that she hadn’t chosen to follow Medea to the river. But at the time there had seemed to be no alternative. Cautiously, she glanced either side of her. Whichever way she looked, it was a bad prospect.
    The crack in the river-bed had widened even in the short time it took Medea’s army to march along Cheyne Walk. It would now be almost impossible to jump across – and other cracks, small still and thin as spiders’ webs, were breaking away from it like splintering ice. The opposite bank, only just becoming visible in the thinning brown light, looked ominous and uninviting.
    As for the houses in Cheyne Walk, there was little hope of finding asylum there. Leaning drunkenly forward – even moving towards the river, Baba could have sworn – they looked like the exhausted guests at the end of a fancy-dress party. Pale pink façades and climbing clematis gave an air of tired gaiety. In several cases the front door had fallen off its hinges and the black hallways gaped like missing teeth. The only thing to do was to follow Medea.
    At the end of Cheyne Walk, Medea turned inland. Silent once more, the women followed her. Baba looked wonderingly about her. No one to be seen. Not a human voice, no sign oflife anywhere. She pulled at her bunny ears in perplexity. Were these women the only people left on earth? Had Medea led only women to safety? And if so, why?
    It would be sad if all the men had disappeared, Baba thought. Stifling a sigh, she increased her step to match Noreen’s and walked the last few steps with as cheerful an air as possible.
    For they had reached their destination. Of one accord, the women stopped. Before them – and clearly marked as an early victim of the property men, for a crumpled bulldozer lay beside the building – stood an abandoned church. Children had scrawled obscenities on its walls, and half the roof was missing. But, miraculously, it stood. All round it lay the ruins of Limerston Street and Lamont Road. Only Cheyne Walk, like an up-ended comb, was visible behind them.
    Medea’s voice reverberated in the thin, windless air. ‘Sisters, this is the Temple. Enter!’
    The women went in two by two. Soon the church was filled to overflowing. As they went, although there was no wind outside and nothing stirred, a great rushing sound accompanied them.

7 An Angry Wife Invades the Temple of Women and Sends Baba Flying
    It was stiflingly hot in the church, and the chanting voices of Medea and the other women soon sent Baba into a sort of trance. Snatches of the tunes she had danced to in the Playboy mingled with the sonorous wailing:
    Our time is come …
The