The Long Room Read Online Free PDF Page A

it’s obviously too small for a large bird. If she and Stephen were to buy the turkey next Saturday, would it keep in the cupboard that she uses as a larder until Christmas Day? What does he think? Because otherwise it would take up almost all the space that there is in the fridge and then what was she supposed to do with the other things she needs to store? It’s awkward, isn’t it? Some people do say that you can keep a turkey safely in the garden shed or in a coal bunker but Coralie is doubtful: what about the foxes and the rats? If only the weather forecast were reliable. Because, if you knew there’d be a cold snap, you’d not be taking thatmuch of a gamble on the larder. But it can be peculiarly warm round Christmas, all of a sudden and to everyone’s surprise. You get primroses and violets some years, as well as snowdrops. Wouldn’t it be unpleasant to have your turkey nibbled at and gnawed away by a nasty rat? The boot of a car – now that’s a place which must be rat-proof, fox-proof and reasonably cold? Or possibly not if the sun were to shine unseasonably upon it. And would Stephen mind having the turkey in his car for a week? Of course he doesn’t use it all that often, does he? Or should she just bite the bullet and buy a proper freezer? A snag is that there’s nowhere really sensible to put one. The kitchen’s cramped enough already. You could perhaps squeeze one of those chest types in the toilet, underneath the coat-pegs, but it might be a bit difficult lifting things out, if they were heavy things – like a turkey is. Would she be able to reach them, if they were at the bottom? And besides, she doesn’t really hold with frozen food, although she does love those Martians in the advertisement for mashed potatoes. Though that’s not precisely frozen, it’s freeze-dried. They make her laugh every time she sees it, with their chortling away at the stupidity of humans! For mash get Smash . A very useful standby, she has found. But, going back to freezers, does it seem a good idea to buy one just for Christmas? They’re expensive, aren’t they? Does he think they will want ham?
    ‘Well, ham is nice,’ says Stephen. ‘But you can buy that in a packet. Can a turkey be reserved? If so, it could be collected from the butcher’s any time on Christmas Eve.’
    Mother and son sit facing each other across the kitchen table; the same table they have sat at for the whole of Stephen’s life. It’s made of pine, thickly knotted, and long ago it split alongone edge; in the fissures there are crumbs of food. Mrs Donaldson used to dislodge them as best as she could with a blunt knife-blade but lately she has left them to accumulate: layers of sediment, bread and cake and spilled meat juices decomposing slowly into an undifferentiated sludge. After dinner she reminds Stephen that he must fetch the Christmas decorations from the loft.

Monday
    After a sudden snow storm from the west, Monday morning is cold and dreary; the pavements are slippery, the coats of the crowd crushed together in the trains reek of frying and wet dog, but Stephen is on his way to work with a lift of the heart, in spite of feeling a bit queasy. Monday mornings are good mornings now; they bring new hope and an end to the barren wastes of the weekend that are devoid of Helen. Mondays used to weigh leadenly on him, but ever since one morning in October they have been as welcome as a lovers’ reunion.
    *
    Stephen had heard tales of the Cube, of course, but had never seen it. ‘What have I done?’ he had asked Louise, when she told him he was wanted there. ‘Nothing, you silly boy,’ she said. ‘It’s one of “those” operations and it’s time you were assigned one.’
    The cellars of the Institute form a warren that extends beyond its above-ground boundaries, and beneath the street. To get there Stephen took a lift. Its door opened onto a lobby in which an armed and uniformed guard was sitting at a desk. ‘ID?’ he asked,