The Dark Place Read Online Free PDF

out in the heat?”
    “How about if I wear a clown costume, look less serious?”
    “Didn’t you hear the weather report? The weatherman issued a warning, telling people not to go out unless absolutely necessary,” retorted Naomi, folding her arms impatiently.
    “The weatherman. What would he know about weather? Besides, it
is
absolutely necessary. Anyway, it’s only over to Custom House and the surrounding area. Probably my dog of a mind chasing after a cat of an idea.”
    “Please be careful.”
    “Am I ever anything other?” he replied, smiling, before kissing her on the lips. “Did I tell you Peter Mullan is doing a book signing at Eason’s, Donegal Place, this Wednesday?”
    “Who’s Peter Mullan?”
    “Who’s Peter Mullan, she asks. That proves you never listen to me. Peter Mullan has had about six bestsellers, to date. Three of them have been made into movies.”
    “That’s great. But I don’t remember you ever reading any of his books.”
    “Er … well, they’re not exactly my sort of book, to be honest.”
    “Why the big interest if you haven’t even read any of his stuff?”
    “Because Peter and yours truly went to the same school when we were kids. I’m going to ask him to have a look at my manuscript, see if he’ll do a blurb for it. That could go a long way to getting the manuscript accepted by potential publishers.”
    “That’s great, Karl!” exclaimed Naomi, giving him a full kiss on the lips. “I have a feeling this will be your year for publication. Honestly, I do. You’re going to prove all those silly rejection slips wrong.”
    “I love the way your eyes light up when you fib, but I love you anyway. See you in a couple of hours.”
    “Oh! In case I forget, there’s a do on at Billy Holiday’s for Ivana’s birthday, Friday night. We’ll have to get her something.”
    “I’m not really in the mood for any party.”
    “I promised her that we’d be there. She’s expecting us. We can’t let her down. How much money do you have? I’m going to buy her something nice.”
    “Won’t a bottle of cheap wine from Tesco and a card from Oxfamsuffice?”
    Smiling, Naomi held out a hand, chanting, “Give, give, give, give, give.”
    “Okay, okay. No need to rip the arse out of it,” said Karl, reluctantly producing his wallet before removing two twenties.
    “I’ll need a bit more than that. I saw a lovely necklace in Lunn’s. It cost two hundred.”
    “Two …? Are you out of your head, Naomi? It’s Ivana’s birthday, not Elizabeth bloody Taylor’s.”
    “Stop your moaning. She’s my best friend. She was the one who looked after me and gave me shelter when I first came to Belfast, way before you came on the scene. Just give me another two twenties and I’ll put the rest to it.”
    “Bloody rent due at the end of the month,” muttered Karl, surrendering the money, before quickly exiting the room.
    Stepping into Hill Street and the afternoon heat, he immediately felt as if a plastic bag was hugging his face. Hot. Suffocating. Above, the sun was floating on a ghostly haze. He considered the air. It tasted like exhaust vapours. Everywhere he looked, people were sucking on the toxic traffic fumes like stranded fish.
    People said this muggy, claustrophobic weather made Belfastians strange. Sometimes it made them do
strange
things. Karl’s retort to that sweet idiom was that the people of Belfast didn’t need excuses to do strange things.
    Only supposed to be mad dogs and Englishmen who venture out in this type of madness,
thought Karl, wiping his brow with a damp handkerchief as he strolled by the palatial Merchant Hotel in Waring Street.
You’re neither, so what the hell are you doing, joining them, you big eejit, getting your loaf toasted by the baking sun?
    Despite it being a mere five-minute walk from where he lived, the oppressive heat was making him exhausted and even crankier than he had been in the apartment. To exacerbate matters further, his sinuses were