Free A Division of the Light by Christopher Burns Page A

periphery of research, excavations and lectureships. Not for him the glamorous finds that so excited the media; he could only imagine what it must be like to be wooed by television producers. In acceptance of his lowly status, Thomas had even begun to consider investigating sites that, if they had been examined at all, had only been dug by wealthy Victorian amateurs who had never unearthed enough to satisfy their curiosity.
    That, he thought, was burden enough, but he was also obsessively jealous of Alice. Until he had met her, his sexual life had been unimaginative. Plainly hers had not, for she had awoken responses in him whose existence he had always doubted. Now, when he lay with her in bed, or when she evaded questions about her earlier life, or simply when he watched her walk across a room, Thomas wondered if other men had made more proficient, inflamed and sensual love to Alice than he had ever been able to do. And all the time, in a drumbeat forever sounding in his imagination, he wondered if she had been closer and more comfortable with those lovers than she had ever been with him.
    He had never dared admit any of these fears.
    â€œYou’re jealous,” Alice said with grim triumph. “I can tell.”
    â€œWhat do you expect me to say? What do you
want
me to say? I’m doing my best to keep things calm.”
    â€œMaybe it would be best if we weren’t calm. Is that what you secretly think? You think you’ve got a good reason to feel agitated, don’t you—and we both know why. It’s because you’ve failed.And because every now and then you come face to face with the truth. That’s why.”
    The sound of their breathing filled the room like that of animals within a cage.
    â€œAlice,” he said wearily, “don’t let’s fight each other. I don’t know why you feel a need to argue. You’re always the one who starts it.”
    â€œI don’t
start
it. It happens because of who we are and what we do. Do you think I enjoy being so upset? Don’t you realize how often I’ve been reduced to tears because of what we are?”
    Thomas was silent. A few nights ago, after they had made love, Alice had begun to weep. Naked, inconsolable, she had trembled helplessly within his arms and refused to explain why.
    â€œThe other week, when I had my bag stolen,” she continued, “I told the people at work I was going to take a walk rather than eat lunch. They must have seen how near the edge I was. I started to cry before I even got out of the building. I remember keeping my head down in the lift in case anyone else got in. I knew my eyes would be so ugly and puffed up that I would have to wear dark glasses as camouflage. That’s what I was doing when I was robbed. Just walking aimlessly, but fast, as if I knew where I was going. And covering my eyes in case anyone noticed how distressed I was. I thought Gregory Pharaoh hadn’t spotted that. But he had. He notices everything.”
    â€œPharaoh.” The name tasted bitter in Thomas’s mouth, so bitter that he spoke it again. “Pharaoh the expert. I don’t even believe that’s his real name. Why do I feel I’m being compared to this man? You don’t even know him. Not really.”
    â€œOf course I don’t.”
    There was another pause in their confrontation, like an unexpected lull in battle. Alice’s face had tightened, her breathing roseand fell, and the skin shone at the base of her throat. And then she went on.
    â€œI don’t really
want
to know him. I’d have told you that before, if you’d been concerned enough to ask. But it never occurred to you to ask, did it? You were too busy daydreaming to think about me; too busy fantasizing about schemes that never work out and contracts that are always short-term and plans that always fail.”
    It was a familiar accusation, but one that always hit home. Even as he answered, Thomas knew