The Night Book Read Online Free PDF

intense. She was top of her class in maths and sciences, and wanted to be a doctor.
    ‘Claire. You can’t say things like that. You just can’t.
    He looked down at her. She was the most verbally violent person he knew. Words burst out of her. She lost control of herself but never the flow of her sentences. She raged, she articulated; when it came to arguing she left everyone for dead. Words were weapons, but she was still a dopey teenager, and didn’t understand how they hurt. He’d tried to put this to Karen: ‘Teenagers are short on empathy. She doesn’t really mean it. She can’t handle her own firepower.’
    At this, Karen just looked bitter.
    Now he told Claire, ‘You apologise.’
    ‘I’d. Rather. Die.’
    Elke appeared in the doorway. Without turning her head, Claire said, ‘Get lost, Elke.’
    ‘Come on,’ he pleaded. Elke went away, silent.
    He got nowhere, and so he turned businesslike. ‘We’re going out. Dinner’s downstairs. Barbara’s coming in ten minutes, so bloody pull yourself together.’
    Downstairs, Elke and Marcus were at the table, eating pasta. Elke looked up with interest; Marcus was dreaming over his plate.
    Simon put his arms around Karen and said, ‘Barbara’ll sort them out.’ Barbara was Karen’s mother.
    They were going to a National Party fundraiser. Karen’s friend Trish had helped to organise the dinner for a couple of hundred people, at which the new party leader, David Hallwright, was going to speak. Karen and Trish had been talking about the dinner for weeks. They had persuaded Simon to make a big donation to the party.
    Simon said, ‘I hope it’s not as boring as the last one.’
    Karen banged the iron down. ‘Too bad if it is. It’s important.’
    He looked at her without expression.
    Barbara turned up.
    ‘Welcome to the war zone,’ Karen said.
    Barbara was a plump and stately woman. She got a package out of her bag: chocolates. Elke and Marcus crowded around, Claire stood looking at them, arms folded.
    Barbara said, ‘Claire, how are you, dear. Aren’t you getting tall? If you could just fetch me a cup of tea.’
    Claire stared at her. There was a silence, then she turned and stalked out of the room.
    Barbara raised her eyebrows. She and Karen exchanged a look.
    Barbara said, ‘She’s getting to be as tall as her father.’
    Simon followed Claire. She was standing at the window, drawing on the glass with her finger.
    She said, ‘I hate that woman.’
    He sighed.
    ‘And she hates me.’
    Simon rubbed his face. ‘Ah, you hate everyone.’
    ‘Not everyone.’ She faced him and grinned.
    ‘You’re the end,’ he said. ‘Do your bloody homework.’ He hugged her hard and smiled at her, squeezed her arm and left.
    He and Karen stood in front of the hall mirror, looking at themselves. Karen was short, blonde, competent; her dyed hair was pulled back from her face and her eyes were very blue.
    She fingered the material of her new dress. ‘What do you think?’
    ‘Yeah. You look beautiful.’
    He didn’t really like the dress. It was something her friend Trish would have persuaded her into: too elaborate, too many frills, as if she’d been wrapped up in Christmas paper. Trish’s circle all had the same hard, affluent, provincial look — long skirts with elaborate flounces and frills, big boots, detailed tops; they were always done up to the nines in yards of cloth, as if big money had to mean big clothes.
    She straightened his tie and brushed his shoulders while he watched himself in the mirror, a tall, ungainly and unwilling figure, his hair a mess of curls that would never lie flat, his thin, bony hands that moved nervously, never still. He waved her away, then stooped to kiss her when he saw she was shaping up to be annoyed.
        
    They drove across town, parked, and joined the crowds moving up the stairs into the centre. The brightly lit room was crowded with hundreds of people; there was a noisy band in one corner, the wallswere decorated with