Free The Sand Men by Christopher Fowler Page A

Khalifa, a series of transcendent repetitions that formed a hallucinatory futuristic Babel. There was a soaring grandiloquence to those slender spires that mitigated suspicions of vulgarity and doubts about economic sense, as if it was man’s purpose to grasp at the heavens whatever the human cost. The crowds of shoppers seated at its base appeared to share a communality that was missing at Dream Ranches, or perhaps it was just the illusory effect of so many people gathered together in one place. No alcohol, no litter, no spontaneity; it was almost appealing, like being gently medicated.
    Every few minutes the crowds thickened, gathering to watch the dancing fountain show, a matrix of circuitry that switched thousands of water jets back and forth in a preprogramed display of technical wizardry, and always earned a burst of noisy appreciation. Its audience might have been applauding a television set, she thought, or a computer.
    It comforted her to stroll through the anonymous, orderly throng. She feared she might soon come to dread the thought of returning to the anarchy of London. London was like the underpass, unpredictable and threatening. Here life was as predictable as the robotic fountains. It could deliver the thing she most wanted right now, the return of her daughter and husband. She decided not to report what she had seen. Chaos was best left in the shadows.

 
     
    Chapter Ten
    The Welcoming Party
     
     
    L EA HAD BEEN expecting to see plastic chairs and a barbecue appear in the Larvins’ back garden around lunchtime, but at 8:00am a team of Indian workers began to erect a large red and white marquee, which they filled with bunting-trimmed trestle tables and a silver-painted bandstand.
    ‘Have you seen this?’ she called from the bedroom.
    Roy poked his head around the door, goateed in shaving cream. ‘They always put marquees up for parties,’ he explained. ‘It’s too hot otherwise.’
    ‘But it looks like they’re going to have live music and everything. I hope it’s not just for us.’
    ‘Why not? The company’s paying for it.’
    ‘It’s just so extravagant. I don’t like all this fuss.’
    ‘Enjoy it while you can, honey, we’re all only here for two years.’
    ‘Not according to Colette,’ said Lea, following him back to the bathroom. ‘Her husband is contracted indefinitely.’
    ‘Did I tell you I met Ben?’ Roy wiped foam from his chin. ‘I’ve never seen a more worried-looking man in my life. He has satchels under his eyes.’
    ‘That’s what Colette says. She thinks the project will overrun and they’ll have to stay on.’
    ‘That won’t happen. The board of directors has everything in hand.’
    ‘So why is Ben so stressed?’’
    ‘He’s a director now too, he has more responsibility. They’re—’
    ‘Darling, are you really going to wear those?’ Lea stifled a laugh. Roy had donned a pair of shorts with purple stripes that made his legs look like candles.
    ‘I picked these up at the mall on the way home last night. I thought they were kind of hip.’
    ‘Hang on.’ She went to Cara’s room and knocked. ‘Cara, would you come out here for a minute?’
    Cara emerged looking dishevelled and tired. ‘What’s up?’
    ‘Your father needs to know what you think of his shorts.’
    Cara studied them for a moment. ‘Utterly gross.’
    ‘Thank you my sweet, you may return to cyberspace.’ Lea grinned back at Roy. ‘If you kept the receipt you could take them back.’
    ‘No, it’s small acts of defiance like this that keep me sane. What time are we going over?’
    ‘Colette said noon but I think that’s a little early.’
    ‘I guess we’ll hear when the other neighbours start to turn up. Then add twenty minutes before we leave. My old man gave me two pieces of life advice; he said Never arrive early for a party and Never turn right on a plane .’
    ‘It’s that where you get your ambition from? At least it means I still have time to write my