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Four
Thewallsflickeredandoozed,thepassagewayseemedtostretchonforever.HewasastonishedthattheywerestillunderLondon:hewashalf-convincedthattheyhadwalkedmostofthewaytoWales.
"I’mreallyscared,"shecontinued."I’venevercrossedthebridgebefore."
"Ithoughtyousaidyou’dbeentothismarketalready,"heasked,mystified.
"It’stheFloatingMarket,silly.Itoldyoualready.Itmoves.Differentplaces.LastoneIwenttowasheldinthatbigclocktower.Big...someone.Andthenextwas—"
"BigBen?"hesuggested.
"Maybe.Wewereinsidewhereallthebigwheelswentaround,andthatwaswhereIgotthis—"Shehelduphernecklace.Thecandlelightglimmeredyellowofftheshinyquartz.Shesmiled,likeachild."Doyoulikeit?"sheasked.
"It’sgreat.Wasitexpensive?"
"Iswappedsomestuffforit.That’showthingsworkdownhere.Weswapstuff."Andthentheyturnedacorner,andsawthebridge.ItcouldhavebeenoneofthebridgesovertheThames,fivehundredyearsago,thoughtRichard;ahugestonebridgespanningoutoveravastblackchasm,intothenight.Buttherewasnoskyaboveit,nowaterbelow.Itroseintodarkness.Richardwonderedwhohadbuiltit,andwhen.Hewonderedhowsomethinglikethiscouldexist,beneaththecityofLondon,withouteveryoneknowing.Hefeltasinkingfeelinginthepitofhisstomach.Hewas,herealized,deeply,patheticallyscaredofthebridgeitself.
