Free Death Of A Hollow Man by Caroline Graham Page A

burning our boats.”
    “Avery!”
    “Well, if we can’t tell Nico, who can we tell?”
    “No one.”
    “After all, he’s our closest friend.”
    Nicholas tactfully concealed his surprise at this revelation, and the silence lengthened. Avery was biting his bottom lip as he always did when excited. He kept darting beseeching little glances at Tim, and his fists opened and closed in purgatorial anguish. He looked like a child on Christmas morning denied permission to open its presents. Even his circle of curls danced with the thrill of it all.
    Nicholas bent close to Avery’s ear. “I’ve got a secret as well. We could do a swap.”
    “Ohhh … could we, Tim?”
    “Honestly. You’re like a two-year-old.” Tim looked coolly at Nicholas. “What sort of secret?”
    “An amazing secret.”
    “Hm. And no one else knows?”
    “Only two other people.”
    “Well, it’s not a secret then, is it?”
    “It’s the two other people that the secret’s about.”
    “Ah.”
    “Oh, go on, Tim,” urged Nicholas. “Fair exchange is no robbery.”
    “Where do you find these ghastly little homilies?”
    “Please …”
    Tim hesitated. “You must promise not to breathe a word before the first night.”
    “Promise.”
    “He said that rather quickly. If you break it,” continued Avery, “you won’t get into Central.”
    “Oh, God.”
    “He’s gone quite pale.”
    “That was a stupid thing to say. Since when have you had crystal balls?”
    “Why the first night?” asked Nicholas, recovering his equilibrium.
    “Because after then everyone will know. Do you promise?”
    “Cut my throat and hope to die.”
    “You’ve got to go first.”
    Nicholas told them his secret, looking from face to face as he spoke. Avery’s mouth opened like a starfish in an ooo of astonishment and pleasure. Tim went scarlet, then white, then red again. He was the first to speak.
    “ In my box. ” Nicholas nodded affirmation. “Of all the fucking cheek.”
    “Ever the mot juste, ” chuckled Avery, practically rocking on his seat with satisfaction. Nicholas thought he was like one of those weighted Daruma dolls that, no matter how hard you pushed them down, sprang straight back up again. “But … if you couldn’t see the man, how do you know it was David?”
    “There was no one else in the place. Just me, Kitty— who surfaced in the dressing room about ten minutes later—and David in the scene dock. I know he and his dad are often early. But they’re never that early.”
    “I thought you always kept your box locked,” said Avery.
    “I do. But there’s a spare key on the board in the prompt corner,” said Tim, adding, “I shall take it home with me in the future. I must say,” he continued, “he’s a bit … lumpen … David. For Kitty, I mean.”
    “Constanze’s bit of rough.” Avery giggled. “Must have given you quite a thrill, Nico. If you like that sort of thing.”
    “Oh,” Nicholas said pinkly, “not really.”
    “Still, he’s a nice lad,” continued Tim, “and I should think almost anyone’d be a relief after Esslyn. It must be like going to bed with the Albert Memorial.” He pulled back his cuff. “Nearly the quarter. Better go and check the board.”
    He picked up his bottle and moved quickly to the door, Avery scuttling after. Nicholas, in hot pursuit, cried, “But what about your secret?”
    “Have to wait.”
    “I’ve got time. I’m not on for twenty minutes.”
    “And I’m not on,” echoed Avery, “at all. I can tell him.”
    “We tell him together.” Tim tried the door of his box, then got out his key. “At least David locked up after himself.”
    He opened the door, and just for a moment the three of them stood on the threshold, Avery quivering like the questing beast. His button nose pointed (as well as it was able), and he sniffed as if hoping to detect some faint residual flavor of wickedness in the stuffy air.
    “For heaven’s sake, Avery.”
    “Sorry.”
    The image of