The Good Mayor Read Online Free PDF

steady job instead of talking that way about a waster like Hektor. So Agathe chose to hate him, family or not.

    She hated everything about him from his unpolished shoes to his ludicrous moustache. It made him look ratty. And he was dirty, stinking of drink and cheap cigarettes. That boy could do with a wash. She looked away quickly from his ice-blue eyes and hated him some more.

    “Good morning, Hektor. I’m sorry. I can’t ask you in. I’m going to work.”

    “Oh, that doesn’t matter.” He flicked a lock of black hair back behind his ear. “I’ve come to see Stopak anyway.”

    “Stopak’s not in either. What do you want with Stopak anyway?”

    “Agathe, I’m surprised at you. What kind of way is that to talk? You don’t have a cigarette, do you? No, you don’t do that sort of thing. Not you. Not Agathe. And why do I have to have an excuse to come and visit my own cousin? My favourite cousin in the whole wide world. My own darling cousin.”

    “Well, he’s not here. I don’t know where he is but I do know this—he hasn’t got any money so you can just leave your darlingest cuzziny-wuzziny alone!”

    She moved to go but Hektor refused to stand aside and stayed, smiling down at her as she squeezed past him and hurried on to the end of the road. At the corner of Aleksander Street, she could have caught the tram to work along the Ampersand but it was still early so she decided to go for a coffee at The Golden Angel instead.

    Agathe crossed the road and stood by the corner of Green Bridge, waiting for the Castle Street tram. She was watching theend of Aleksander Street nervously. Sure enough, Hektor came down the street. He saw her. He looked right at her and curled his lip. She saw his moustache hike up a little at one side. Stupid smirk. What was that supposed to mean? Looking at a decent woman like that as if he knew something. He couldn’t know anything. What could there be to know?

    The tram was coming and she put out her arm to flag it down. The driver clanged his iron bell to warn that he was stopping and Agathe stepped neatly on to the platform at the rear. As the tram pulled away she looked back and saw Hektor outside The Three Crowns—a rough sort of place with men who would take bets and fight. On Saturday nights, they would spill out on the pavement and spit and quarrel. Agathe saw Hektor walk up to a man in a torn sweater. They spoke. The man gave Hektor a cigarette. He was still looking right at her as the tram crossed the bridge and turned away.

    The tram juddered. Agathe turned her eyes to the front. All over Dot people were going to work in the sunshine. Agathe watched them as her tram rolled through the city. A couple who kissed goodbye for the day at the very next tram stop, the woman turning to wave as she skipped on to the back platform. A little boy in shorts kicked a red ball along the pavement as he brought the morning paper home, a yellow dog bouncing on a string beside him. She heard its yaps fade away as the tram hurried along the long avenue that leads to my cathedral. Agathe looked up coldly when the shadow of the vast dome fell across the passing tram. There should have been dramatic organ chords or the sweep of angel choirs. Nothing. She felt nothing. No awe, no protective glow, nothing. Maybe a little anger and disappointment but, apart from that, nothing.

    May sunshine filtered through the thin young leaves on the limes of the avenue and Agathe saw, in silhouette, tiny birds flying between the branches. They flapped furiously—faster than the eye could register—and it seemed to exhaust them for they would suddenly fold their wings and fall through the air like tiny, resting torpedoes, fall, fall, fall, for a heartbeat then unfold their wings and flap again. They were everywhere among the trees, flapping, flying, falling.

    Agathe craned her neck to watch them as the tram rattled along. “Look at them,” she thought to herself. “Why are they doing that? What