Tales of Sin & Fury, Part 1 (37 page)

‘“I'd say there's no accounting for tastes,” said the shopkeeper.'

‘Only twenty minutes to King's Cross. We put our clothes on, patched ourselves up, tried to look like train passengers. I felt everyone would see what we had been doing. Our pores were open. Our faces hung loose, eyes watery and cheeks still breathless. We tried to tighten the strings, to resume a mask of normality.

‘We peeped out of the toilet like children, and after one last kiss made our way back to our seats separately. I let him get off the train first. In case he was being met.'

‘I needed to know if I was imagining things or if there really was a connection between us. Something old, that still existed at a dream level. Then I had an idea: incubation. In the ancient world people would go and sleep in a special place – at a sanctuary or in someone's tomb – to communicate with spirits or the dead. They thought that in your sleep you could have special access to non-physical beings. So I decided to try it. The best way to reach his unconscious was through a special place that was permeated with his being. He's an academic – so that would be his office in the college. I decided to sleep the night there.'

‘In the end we found the rats' nest under the palettes in the corner of the Engine Plant. The big ones scarper out of the building and there's all these little babies left on the floor. Got their eyes shut, some of them. So I picked one up by the tail and put it in my overalls pocket. I went straight up to Griggs in Personnel. I go to his secretary and he comes out smoothing his hair like he's got a nervous tick. “If it's this story about the rats again…” he says, and I say, “You want proof, do you?” Then I just pulled out the baby rat and laid it on the secretary's desk. It was kind of pink and curled up, but it squirmed a bit and opened an eye. “What's this, then?” I said.

‘That put the cat among the pigeons. She started screaming and his face twisted like it was in an orange squeezer. He hid behind her yelling, “Get that thing out of here!” I turned and walked out.

‘After that they had to get in Pest Control to clear the place out.'

Reg leant forward and whispered to me: ‘It's a pity, though, init, that it's a bit harder to get rid of the real rats. The ones in suits.'

Lefteris took a sip of his coffee. ‘People use myths as universal god-given metaphors for living – especially Greek myths. Anyone struggling against insuperable odds, falling to their death, aiming too high, dying for a principle, wrestling with revenge, losing a child, or fairly much any other human dilemma, they can find characters and stories in the ancient Greek tradition which reflect it.'

Anthea asked: ‘Does that make you proud to be Greek?'

Lefteris put his coffee down, leant back and his face creased into a big smile. ‘I am proud to be Greek, of course. But not because of that. We had our moment. Like most of the so-called “great” times, it had the basis in imperialism, like you British with your Empire, and now the Americans. Those moments always pass.'

‘Kings Cross! Anyone for King Cross!' the conductor called from the bottom of the stairs. The lights of the station splashed like melting stars on the glass of the bus window. Below, umbrellas scurried across the pavement.

The man at the front of the bus turned round again, looked at his audience and shook his head. ‘They talk,' he said. ‘Any of you tossers spend the night in Abney Cemetery and tell me they don't talk. There's wise ones. Yeah. They'll listen to your problems. Then there's the unwise. You heard of the unwise dead?'

‘Leave it out, mate,' chimed in a silver-haired man from near the back. ‘We got ladies on board here.'