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Four
ThethingirlwasgulpingdownoneofRichard’sbananasinwhatwas,Richardreflected,theleasteroticdisplayofbanana-eatinghehadeverseen."Youknow,thatwasgoingtobemybreakfast,"saidRichard.Shelookedupathimguiltily."Myname’sRichard.What’syours?"
Thegirl,who,herealized,hadalreadymanagedtoeatmostofthefruitthatRichardhadbroughtwithhim,swallowedthelastofthebananaandhesitated.Thenshehalf-smiled,andsaidsomethingthatsoundedalotlikeAnaesthesia."Iwashungry,"shesaid.
"Well,so’mI,"hetoldher.
Sheglancedatthelittlefiresacrosstheroom.ThenshelookedbackatRichard.Shesmiledagain."Doyoulikecat?"shesaid.
"Yes,"saidRichard."Iquitelikecats."
Anaesthesialookedrelieved."Thigh?"sheasked."Orbreast?"
ThegirlcalledDoorwalkeddownthecourt,followedbythemarquisdeCarabas.TherewereahundredotherlittlecourtsandmewsandalleysinLondonjustlikethisone,tinyspursofold-time,unchangedfor,threehundredyears.EventhesmellofpissherewasthesameasithadbeeninPepys’stime,threehundredyearsbefore.Therewasstillanhouruntildawn,buttheskywasbeginningtolighten,turningastark,leadencolor.Strandsofmisthunglikelividghostsontheair.
Thedoorwasroughlyboardedupandcoveredwithstainedpostersforforgottenbandsandlong-closednightclubs.
