The Night Book Read Online Free PDF Page A

a secret signal, from the trees in the park. The street-cleaning truck, its brushes whirring, snuffled its way along the gutters; delivery men dumped papers and crates outside the shops. Dreaming, he drove along the last stretch that led him to the open gate, the leafy drive, the automatically rising garage door. He drove into the garage and sat with his eyes closed, until he found the strength to plod up the stairs to the kitchen and make a cup of tea, and usually, as he was watching the first birds swooping down onto the wet lawn, he would hear Elke come in behind him. They sat at the table in silence. The lawn was a square of intense green, fringed by rocks and ferns. They watched rain falling through a shaft of morning sun, a bird pulling up a worm under the glittering shower. In the dawn hours they were outside time. They watched the light change.
    He was head of obstetrics at the hospital. Karen wanted him to scale down his workload. She told him he should keep his gynaecology practice but give up obstetrics; that way he’d let himselfoff the punishing hours. He’d thought about it, but wondered how he would adjust to a nine-to-five day. He was like Elke: he resisted Karen’s notions of order and correct routine. Karen couldn’t function without a good night’s sleep; she went to bed armed with earplugs and special pillows, and was grumpy if the night had been interrupted. Sleep was a delicate subject between them. She said,‘I crave oblivion.’ He didn’t see oblivion as something you could crave.
    Sometimes he lay awake and resisted drifting off, feeling that, if he slept, the night would be over too quickly. If he wasn’t careful, he woke Karen coming in from night shift. She’d accused him of setting a bad example with Elke. Early on, she’d decided on a strict regime to make Elke sleep properly, and for a time had created the unfortunate sense that he and Elke were the opposing side of the battle. Karen went at things literally, she mounted campaigns. When things went badly she sat on the edge of the bed and complained, then slept and woke refreshed, optimistic all over again. Her battles with Claire were more complex, dark and wounding. He sympathised. She was a good mother. It wasn’t easy dealing with teenage girls.
    He went to work, and clarity and focus came to him; then he drove home and greeted his family through a kind of film. He was cushioned by his night hours, by the sense of otherness they gave him. Karen was always saying, ‘Are you listening. Have you heard a word I’ve said?’ He loved her, he loved the kids. He worked hard, he kept strange hours, he was happy.
        
    On a Wednesday evening he was putting on his suit when he heard Karen’s voice raised. It was a mild, grey evening, the rain falling on the wet lawn. Out the window he saw a seagull flying, high against the white sky.
    He knotted his tie and went down to the kitchen. Karen was holdingthe iron in one hand and a shirt in the other. Her face was flushed.
    Claire was saying, ‘That is just bullshit. That’s totally unfair. How can you say that. You shift your position from one day to the next. You’re completely illogical.’
    Karen said coldly, ‘I’m not going to listen to you raving.’
    Claire banged a book against the bench.
    ‘Now look …’
    Claire shouted, ‘I wish you would die. Of cancer. In agony.’
    ‘Claire!’
    ‘You think I don’t mean it …’
    ‘Jesus Christ,’ Simon said. ‘All right. Get out. Off you go.’ He pointed to the stairs. Claire bumped his shoulder as she passed, and ran up to her room.
    Karen stood there with the iron raised, shaking it, her eyes lit up. ‘You see. You see what I have to deal with.’
    He went upstairs. He passed Elke, silent on the landing. They looked at each other.
    Claire was lying on her back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her long legs crossed, hair trailing all over her face. She was sixteen and five foot eleven. She was freckle-faced, angry and