The Red Room Read Online Free PDF Page A

talked and
studied and drank coffee there. But now, walking
up the steps after weeks away, I saw that the
building was middle-aged, the concrete stained and
cracked. The door dragged on the stone step,
scraping like fingernails as I pulled it open.
I arrived at Rosa's office and she immediately
came out and gave me a long hug. Then she
held me back to contemplate me with a 37
semi-humorous expression of inquiry. She was
dressed simply in charcoal slacks and a navy
blue sweater. Her hair was quite gray now and when
she smiled her face almost shimmered in all its
fine wrinkles. What was she thinking? When I had
first met her, almost seven years earlier, I had
already known her extraordinary work on child
development. I'd occasionally been puzzled by this
great expert on children who had never had children herself, and
I sometimes wondered if the rest of us at the
clinic were competing to be her cleverest son or
daughter. There may have been something maternal about
the way she presided over the Welbeck, but it
wasn't necessarily wise to rely on a mother's
softness and forgiveness. She had a steely
objectivity as well.
"We've missed you, Kit," she said.
"Welcome back." I didn't speak. I just
pulled a face that was meant to look affectionate.
There were butterflies in my stomach; it felt like
my first day at secondary school. "Let's go
outside and talk," she added briskly. "I
think it's cleared up. Isn't the weather funny
at the moment?"
We walked toward the garden at the back and
Francis met us on the way. He was also
dressed casually, in jeans and a dark blue
shirt. As usual he was unshaven, his hair
rumpled. He was a man who wanted to look like
an artist rather than a scientist. When he saw
me, he held out his arms and we had rather an
awkward few seconds of walking toward each
other before I could step into his embrace.
"So good to have you here again, Kit. You're sure
you're ready?"
I nodded. "I need to work. It's just ... this
bit is rather like getting back on a horse again after
a fall."
Francis pulled a face. "I'm glad
to say I've never been anywhere near a horse.
Best idea is not to get on one in the first
place."
It had rained earlier but now the sun was out and the
wet flagstones glittered and steamed. The benches
were sodden so we stood in a group
self-consciously, like people who had just been
introduced at a drinks party.
"Remind me of today's schedule," said Rosa,
for something to say.
"This morning I'm going to see Sue." 39
Sue was an anorexic twenty-three-year-old,
so thin she looked as if the light could shine through
her. Her beautiful eyes were like brimming pools
in her shriveled little face. She looked like a child,
or an old woman.
"Good," she said crisply. "Take it at your
own pace. Let us know if there's any help you
need."
"Thanks."
"There's one more thing."
"Yes?"
"Compensation."
"Oh."
"Yes. Francis is certainly of the view that
you should consider legal action."
"Open and shut case," said Francis. "It
was even done with the policeman's own bloody
mug, wasn't it? What on earth did he think
he was up to?"
I looked over at Rosa. "What do you
think?"
"I would rather hear what you think."
"I don't know what I think. It was all so
confused. You know that the Crown Prosecution
Service ..." I tried to recall the wording of the
letter I'd received his... declined to proceed against
Mr. Doll. Maybe it was their mistake.
Maybe it was my mistake. Maybe it was just an
accident. I'm not sure what I'd be after."
"About a couple of hundred grand, some of us
reckon," said Francis, with a smile.
"I'm not sure that Doll really meant to hurt
anybody. He was just flailing around, panicking.
He picked up the mug and smashed it against the
wall, and cut himself, and then he cut me. He was
a mess even before the police had finished with him.
You know what happens to people in police cells.
They go crazy. They kill themselves or fly