How the Dead Live
“This isn’t morning, it’s grey and insipid outside – what the city that always sleeps palms off on its somnolent inhabitants as dawn. ‘What time is it, please?’ The ‘please’ is a compensation for my inner baddy thoughts. It always is – isn’t it. No politeness is ever justified. Even in Pride and Prejudice the Bennet sisters were fucking people over, and screwing them up, and shitting on them – when off the page.
‘It’s nearly six-thirty, you’ve been asleep for almost thirteen hours.’ That’ll ...be the diamorphine and the Valium, drugs so powerful they’re like the boots of heavy men stamping down on my neck.
Jesus – the pain in my neck. ‘Oh God!’ ‘Is it a pain?’ ‘My neck – my neck, it feels like it’s broken.’ ‘It’s the angle you’ve been lying at. I tried to move you late last night, but I’m afraid I wasn’t able.’ She’s up close now, my Deirdre, still in the ghastly yellow cardy. Amazing – I’ve never seen a ball of pus-coloured wool.MoreLess
‘It’s nearly six-thirty, you’ve been asleep for almost thirteen hours.’ That’ll ...be the diamorphine and the Valium, drugs so powerful they’re like the boots of heavy men stamping down on my neck.
Jesus – the pain in my neck. ‘Oh God!’ ‘Is it a pain?’ ‘My neck – my neck, it feels like it’s broken.’ ‘It’s the angle you’ve been lying at. I tried to move you late last night, but I’m afraid I wasn’t able.’ She’s up close now, my Deirdre, still in the ghastly yellow cardy. Amazing – I’ve never seen a ball of pus-coloured wool.MoreLess
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