Free The Five Gates of Hell by Rupert Thomson Page A

days, only an old switchback road. In the dips you found towns, as secret and intact as fossils, towns with names like Peacehaven and Marble Bay; from the rises you could see ships inching along the horizon, and waves so far away they looked, he remembered Kay saying, ‘like the creases on your knuckles’.
    When they reached High Head they bought ice-creams from a van that was playing ‘Moon River’ (and there the river, magically, was, hundreds of feet below and to the east), the melody all cracked and jangly and slow, and then they crossed smooth grass to the precipice, peered down from behind a low wire fence, and there was the famous lighthouse, hoops of red and white, it must’ve been sixty feet high, but it looked like a toy, and he said, ‘People come here to jump,’ andKay took his arm and pressed her cheek against his shoulder and said, ‘We’re so lucky,’ not to have a reason to, he thought she meant, not to even think of it, the misery that might bring you here, though he could never be sure with Kay, she took off in such strange directions sometimes, words seemed to mean different things to her, it was as if she had her own personal dictionary.
    They must’ve stood there for, oh, in his memory it took up more room than some whole years, and then she broke away from him and ran off down the path, and he called out, ‘Careful, Kay, be careful,’ and he went after her, but he couldn’t run, you see, all those years in hospital, they’d sucked the running out of him. When he caught up with her at last, she was standing three feet from the edge in her black ski-pants, they were the fashion then, and her cream wool sweater, rising and falling with her breathing, but three feet from the edge! and there was no fence now, why did she like to scare him so? He took her in his arms, and he kissed the side of her neck and behind her ear, and then he kissed her on the lips, he breathed her in as deeply as his damaged lungs allowed, as if those were his last moments with her, as if he was already beginning to lose her, and he felt he’d never be close enough, even naked, making love, his skin on hers, their bodies joined like hands in prayer, pressed together all the way along, even bellies, even knees, even then he’d never be close enough. Perhaps that was true for everyone, but when he saw her run along the edge like that he sensed the recklessness in her, it had been there all along, but now it frightened him. He had this sudden premonition, that she might leave him behind, alone, but he kept the premonition hidden, he just pulled her tighter to him, his arms were still strong, he pulled her tight against him, so tight that she cried out, ‘Jack, stop,’ and she was laughing, ‘Jack, you’ll break me.’
    Listening to all the happiness, happiness that had actually produced him, Nathan had felt lulled, comforted, but suddenly the vision of Dad holding his wife, that love and worry, it mirrored his own too closely: his fingers faltered.
    Dad noticed. ‘Are you tired?’
    â€˜A bit.’
    â€˜You stop then.’ Dad sat up and, reaching behind him, pulled his nightclothes on.
    Nathan put the green bottle back in its place on the glass shelf above the washbasin. He wanted to hold Dad tight and stop him dying. He didn’t want to be left behind, with everything to do. He just hoped he died first. One silent jet looped through the room. Oralmost silent. A sound like tyres in rain. He ran the hot tap fast and reached for the soap.
    â€˜Are you all right, Nathan?’
    â€˜Yes. I’m fine.’
    â€˜Nothing’s worrying you?’
    The water was almost too hot for his hands. He shook his head. ‘No.’
    â€˜If you’re worried about something, you’ll tell me, won’t you?’
    He nodded. He switched the tap off, dried his hands.
    â€˜Thank you for doing my back.’
    He turned at last and