The Dark Room Read Online Free PDF

It’s Les Hirondelles, rue St Jacques, Trinité-sur-mer.’
    ‘You’re a brick, Jinx. Remind me to take you out to dinner one day.’
    She gave a shaky laugh. ‘It’s a date,’ she told him. ‘Assuming I can remember to remind you.’ She paused. ‘Did you really want Meg’s
address?’
    He avoided an answer. ‘I could come and see you at the weekend,’ he suggested. ‘Or are you hibernating?’
    ‘Sort of,’ she said, unsure if she wanted to see anyone. ‘I’m vegetating.’
    ‘Is that a yes or a no?’
    The vein above her eye throbbed mercilessly. ‘It’s a yes. I’d love to see you,’ she lied.

    For fifteen minutes paranoia held Jinx’s hand. Ten times she had reached it out towards the telephone on the bedside table and ten times she had withdrawn it again. Her nerve
had abandoned her along with her memory. She was afraid of eavesdroppers listening in. And what could she say that wouldn’t sound foolish? At eight-thirty, as credits rolled on the television
in the corner, she muted the sound, seized the telephone with sudden decision and dialled a number.
    ‘Hello?’ said a brisk voice that belied its eighty-three years.
    ‘Colonel Clancey?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘It’s Jinx Kingsley. I wondered – are you busy or can I talk to you for a moment?’
    ‘My dear girl, of course you can talk. How are you?’
    ‘Fine. You?’
    ‘Worried,’ he barked. ‘Damned worried, if I’m honest. I feel responsible, Jinx. Daphne, too. We should have done more. Hold on a minute while I close the
door. Bloody television’s going full blast. Usual old rubbish, of course, but Daphne likes it.’ She heard the receiver clatter on to their hall table, followed by the slam of a door and
the distant yapping of Goebbels, their mild-mannered Yorkshire terrier. ‘You still there?’ he said a moment or two later.
    She felt tears of affection pricking at the back of her eyelids. He made himself out to be so much more ferocious than his funny little dog and, in her mind, he was always Colonel
Goebbels and the dog was Clancey. ‘Yes. It’s nice to hear you.’ She paused a moment, unsure what to say. ‘How’s Goebbels?’ She wondered why they’d called
their dog that. Was it something she knew and had forgotten, or was it something she had simply accepted as she had accepted all their other eccentricities?
    ‘Flea-ridden as usual. Daphne gave him a bath and he’s looking like a mohair sweater. Absurd creature.’
    She wondered if he was referring to the dog or to his wife. ‘I’m worried about my plants,’ she said, seeking neutral territory and remembering the Clanceys had her
spare key. ‘Would it be an awful bore for you or Mrs C to water them for me?’
    ‘We go in every day, Jinx. Assumed it’s what you’d want. Plants are fine, bit of cleaning up done. It’s all ready for you as soon as you’re well enough
to come home.’
    ‘That’s very kind. Thank you.’
    ‘Least we could do in the circumstances.’
    There was an awkward pause while she sought for something more to say. ‘Let me give you my phone number. I’m at the Nightingale Clinic in Salisbury.’ She squinted
at the dial. ‘I don’t know the code but the number’s two-two-one-four-two-zero. Just in case anything unexpected crops up.’
    ‘Got it,’ he told her. ‘And you say you’re fine. Glad to hear it. Looking after you all right then, are they?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, you sound cheerful enough.’
    Another awkward pause. They spoke together.
    ‘Best be going then—’
    ‘Colonel—’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Please don’t go, not yet.’ She rushed her words. ‘My stepmother said you rescued me from my garage. Is that true? She said I had the car engine running and
you found me before I could – well – finish myself off.’
    His voice grew gruff with emotion. ‘Don’t you remember?’
    ‘No.’ She swallowed painfully. ‘I’m really sorry, but I don’t. I don’t remember anything – at least – not since I