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are you now living?'
`Robbie's from somewhere called Bracebridge, Marm. We're both up by Caris
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Yard.'
Ash snowed from the tip of Marm's cigarette. The sash window was half open.
Outside, pigeons were cooing. Marm's eyes, I saw, as the silence persisted,
were restless beneath their painted lids. Like those pigeons, her whole body
was shivering slightly.
`It'll do for the summer, won't it . . . ?' Saul trailed off, standing in the
rucked middle of the carpet where Marm's embrace had left him. `I
mean, the Easterlies ..
Another long pause ensued. I breathed more of that medicinal, burning smell as
Marm ground out her cigarette in a plant pot.
`Oh, I'm sure it'll do very nicely. And what kind of work are you doing
anyway?'
`Just around the docks ... Collecting things. Well, you know how it is, Marm 
it's money.'
Marm reached to light another quivering cigarette. `Of course my darling
there's always money,'
she said, each word punctuated by a coil within the smoke. `Funny old stuff,
isn't it? You can say what you like about all that citizen nonsense, but we
need it like the air we breathe . .
.' Her eyes dulled and drooped as if in sad contemplation of this fact, then
brightened as Saul began to reach into the satchel which contained the
borrowed pieces we'd been hawking around the stalls all morning.
`We've brought you something ...'
Marm was half sitting forward now and half leaning back, like someone caught
in a blurry photograph between two stages of movement. Her whole body was
quivering. Indeed, I thought, as she hunched forward on that sunlit couch and
the pigeons chimed and the smoke and the dust played around her, there was
something that was ill-defined about Marm despite all her obvious physical
presence. As if you'd have to travel a long way through those folds of flesh
and robe before you actually reached her real substance.
`A gift now, perhaps, is always pleasant ... Always something to be waited for
...' Maim was talking to herself in a breathy whisper as Saul unfolded the
waxed wafers which contained a scrap of Dutch lace. `A
surprise without asking ...'
Maim was still talking, and her trembling had become a rocking motion as she
leaned closer to inspect the contents of the paper flower which Saul had laid
before her on the table.
The smoke of her cigarette made agitated leaps. `You see, your Marm loves a
gift, don't she?' And there it was, a fine lace choker, beaded with tiny
fragments of jet and lapis lazuli. `Imagine all the work, my dearie.
Those aching hours with the bobbin ...'
Snatching it from Saul's fingers, she raised it to her neck and fumbled with
the bead clasp. `Will you help your Marm, my darling.
These things are so . . . It's a little tight. But never mind. It's the
thought that counts. That's what they all say isn't it?' The thing vanished
into the folds of her chin. `And Marm's so pleased you're here. Yes she is. So
sweet of you . . . Did I tell you that . . . ?' I watched as Marm drew Saul
into another embrace. She was still talking, but it was hard now to make out
the words as she fingered the curls on his neck.
Eventually Saul straightened and looked across at me. He coughed and smoothed
back his hair.
Marm studied the end of a new cigarette. `But I know,' she said, `
I'm not the one you've come to see here. All the girls are still sweet on you,
Saul. Always were, weren't they? So why don't you just toddle off and leave
your friend with me here. What was it . . . ?' She slowly fixed me with her
gaze. `Was it
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Robbie from
Bracebridge?'
`But, Marm, you can't '
`Off you go, my darling!' Ash billowed about her. `And you did say the lad was
your best friend. So how else can he and Marm possibly get familiar ..
I shot Saul a despairing glance before he closed the door, then watched with a
dry mouth as Marm heaved herself back to her feet.
`Of course,' she muttered as she waddled across the rugs, `I've heard of
Bracebridge, even if he hasn't.' Her hands, I noticed, grew surprisingly still
as she tilted the syrupy contents of a decanter into a thimble-sized tumbler
on a side table. `How could I not have, being in this business?'
I cleared my throat. `To be honest, Marm, I'm really not sure '
`You mean my son hasn't told you?' She tipped back the thimble, suppressed a
small shudder. `But then, looking at you, I doubt if you'd have understood ...
Not without a little demonstration.' Moving close, Marm patted my worn jerkin,
running her painted nails along the seams until the stitching crackled. `At
least you don't seem to have any lice on you. You barely stink. And Saul's
right  you're really not doing so very badly down in the Easterlies, although
I'm sure some other people are doing worse as a result.'
She laid a hand on my shoulder. It was my turn to suppress a shudder.
`You see, Robbie, this house isn't any of the things you might
imagine. We're not like the dollymops in the street, or the tarts in the pox
houses ...' She smiled. `But then, you still hardly know what they are, do
you? But take a tip from me and forget love.
What we sell here is far more precious. This is a dream house and we sell
dreams. And the
, dreams come from Bracebridge, just like you do  or some of them anyway.
Isn't that a sweet coincidence?' She refilled her glass thimble and sipped it.
`I'm disappointed, really, that Saul doesn't remember the name of the place,
all the years he was here under its spell. But then he's been trying hard to
forget, hasn't he? Neglecting his Marm, all this rubbish about people all
being the same, never coming here,' she continued with a pout. `Not that Marm
doesn't like a present . . .' She worked a finger around her neck. There was a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]