Читать книгу In Bloom - C.J. Skuse, C. J. Skuse, C.J. Skuse - Страница 10

Monday, 25th June – 7 weeks, 1 day

1. People in washing powder adverts who are surprised when the washing powder gets the clothes clean, i.e. does its fucking job.

2. The first man who got the first woman pregnant. And the first woman who thought that was a good idea.

3. People who buy fake flowers.

4. People who make fake flowers.

5. Tourists in open-toe sandals – now that it’s summer there are suddenly yellowing, gnarly trotters everywhere. Now I know how the Nazis felt when the Ark of the Covenant opened.

6. Johnny Depp.

For just a moment the other day, I thought I was running out of items for my Kill Lists. But then lo, a new morning breaks and with it arrives a whole new bunch of thorns in my raw little side.

I gave Jim the Gazette’s switchboard number and left him to explain why I was off sick. I can take as long as I need. Bet they’re loving this. Nothing as newsworthy as this has ever happened in that town. I can see Linus Sixgill now, creaming his genius over his by-line:

PRIORY GARDENS SURVIVOR IN SEX SLAYER SHOCK SHE USED TO MAKE OUR COFFEE!

or

GAZETTE GIRL’S BOYFRIEND IS GAY SEX SLAYER! WE ALWAYS THOUGHT HER COFFEE TASTED FUNNY!

or perhaps

GAZETTE JUNIOR LIVES WITH SICKO SEX FIEND: Did she make his coffee too?

I’ve felt sick all day. And thirsty. And dizzy, like I’ve been stuck in a revolving door for a decade. I’m also shivery, which Elaine says is ‘either a chill or pneumonia’. She is making me endless cups of tea and checking my temperature on the hour.

Either Jim or Elaine have come into my bedroom unannounced twelve times since I woke up with the doorbell at 9.58 a.m. Tink scampers in too. She hops up on my bed and makes a beeline for my face, licking it all over. She seems to love me again, even though Jim has taken over her care now.

God I feel awful. Perhaps I’m dying. Wouldn’t that be ironic? What if Elaine’s right and this is what pneumonia feels like? How the hell is a thing the size of a chickpea causing me so much discomfort?

You overdid it yesterday. You need to rest. I need to grow in peace.

FFS. It’s talking to me all the time now. Like Jiminy Cricket but without the musical interludes.

Elaine’s been in to change my sick bucket and bring in a two-litre bottle of water and a piece of dry toast. I wonder if this lot will stay down. Got no appetite at all. I don’t have a hunger for anything. It’s like Heil Foetus has invaded Womblandia and drenched that fire in amniotic fluid.

Ugh. I feel sick again. Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing his thigh meat all over my hands.