Air and Fire (45 page)

He held the malachite out towards the doctor.

The gap between the doctor's eyebrows narrowed. ‘For me?' Wilson nodded. ‘I found it in the desert. In my delirium I thought it was gold.'

The doctor laughed. ‘All the same, it's rather attractive.' He turned the crystal on his palm.

‘Do you remember my promise to you?' Wilson said. ‘About the nugget?'

‘Yes, I do. But I never thought – '

‘Nor did I. Not really.' Wilson stared at the mountains that had kept their secret from him. ‘I guess that's about as close as I got.'

Towards sunset Bardou saw him down the steps. After thanking the doctor once again, Wilson walked back along the Calle Francesa, his eyes following patterns in the cobbles. Each stone cut by hand. Then shipped all the way to Mexico.

When he glanced up, it was dusk. That wash of supernatural light before the darkness dropped, a violet glow that altered as you watched. There was a woman in a pale-yellow dress walking along the road ahead of him. He recognised the dress; it had lilies of the valley stitched on to
it, which stood for happiness returning. They were the only two people on the road. Any moment now the night would crash down through the sky. He recognised the dress and broke into a run.

‘Stop,' he cried. ‘Wait.'

The woman stopped where she was, but did not look round. Not until he caught up with her did she turn. It was a face he did not know. A round, young face. A slightly startled smile.

‘Yes?'

‘I thought – ' He was stammering; his hands cupped empty air. ‘I thought you were someone else.'

The girl did not seem alarmed, only sorry to have disappointed him. She bit her bottom lip, lifting her shoulders in a little shrug.

‘Who are you?' he asked.

‘My name's Imelda.' She held the skirt out sideways in the air and let it fall again. ‘Do you like my dress?'

‘Yes,' he said. ‘I do.'

‘Do you think I look beautiful?' A sudden shyness lowering her eyes.

‘Very beautiful.'

Her face lit. She turned away.

‘Good-night,' he called after her.

Her voice floated back over her shoulder. ‘Good-night.'

He stood there, watched her walk away from him, the pale dress fading, settling, sinking down into the darkness.

I am indebted to the following people for providing me with places to work during the past two years: Francis Pike, Martha Crewe (again), and the entire staff at Santa Monica's Hostel in Zanzibar – Natty, Martin, Mary, Teddy, Faith, Willy and, most of all, my good friend Mr Sam Mkwaya.

In order to write this book, I had to do a great deal of research. Particularly valuable to me were Monsieur Jean Roret, Dr A. J. Monhemius, Professor Fred Norbury, Tom Jaine, Adela Arrambide and Isela Rueda. I am also grateful to the Musée D'Orsay in Paris, and to the British Library, the Science Museum Library, The Royal Institute of British Architects and the Victoria & Albert Museum Library in London.

Lastly I would like to thank Imogen for being a wonderful agent and to wish her well in whatever happens next. I would also like to thank everyone at Bloomsbury, especially Liz, Ruth, Sarah, Mary, Lucy, Nigel, Alan and David, for continuing to support my work and for becoming, over the years, a kind of second family.

This book is dedicated to the memory of Kamps Veeran.

RUPERT THOMSON
is the author of eight highly acclaimed novels, of which
Air and Fire
and
The Insult
were shortlisted for the Writer's Guild Fiction Prize and the
Guardian
Fiction Prize respectively. His most recent novel,
Death of a Murderer
, was shortlisted for the 2008 Costa Novel Award. His memoir
This Party's Got to Stop
was published in 2010.

Fiction

Dreams of Leaving

The Five Gates of Hell
The Insult
Soft
The Book of Revelation
Divided Kingdom
Death of a Murderer

 

Non-fiction

This Party's Got to Stop

First published 1993

Copyright © 1993 by Rupert Thomson

This electronic edition published in 2012 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

The moral right of the author has been asserted

All rights reserved

You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise

make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means

(including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying,

printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable

to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages

A CIP catalogue record for this book

is available from the British Library

Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP

eISBN: 978 1 4081 7997 0

www.bloomsbury.com/rupertthomson

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