Читать книгу St Oda's Bones - Marcus Attwater - Страница 18

He could hear the child again. Or he thought he could hear the child again. It was there, at the edge of hearing, a thin, indignant wail. But how could it be? No children lived in this building, and the one next door was student housing as well. And yet, sometimes, not every night, but always at night, he could hear it crying. It was a distressing sound. Why could its mother not comfort it? He knew all babies cried, and there had been enough little cousins at home for him to know that they didn't always cry because something was terribly wrong. But this one sounded as if there was, keening and sobbing for minutes, hours. Sometimes he had the uncomfortable idea that the sobs repeated themselves after a while, as if a soundtrack was being played on a loop. But no film had such a soundtrack, and who would play it? Then there would be silence again, for a little while, and he would think it had all been in his imagination until, right at the edge of hearing, the sound crept in again. He thought perhaps no one else knew the baby was there, it had been left, and cried for loneliness. He wondered, as the angry sobs rose and fell, if someone was hurting it deliberately, and quailed at the darkness of his own imagination. He listened tensely when the baby fell silent, fearing the worst, was half-relieved when it confirmed its existence with another bout of weary sobs. Then he would pull the duvet over his ears to shut out the sound and try talking or singing under his breath to distract himself.

Every night Jake listened and tried not to listen, until either he or the child cried themselves to sleep.

In the morning, he didn't remember the child. He just knew he had trouble getting to sleep last night, and he knew he had struggled awake late. Nursing a mug of strong tea, he wondered if it was worth it turning up for class today. Research Methods was all right, and Mr Lyall was a decent teacher, better than that Arnold woman. And at least it was a lecture, not a seminar, which spared him the awkward discussion sessions with his fellow students. University would be all right, really, if it weren't for his fellow students. He supposed he'd better go. Only four weeks into his first term, and he'd already had a lecture about commitment from Ms Arnold. He shoved a few books into his satchel at random, gulped the last of his tea, and set off for the bus stop without breakfast. He half noticed that it was really autumn now, with a keen wind blowing through the light summer jacket he still wore. He suspected he had noticed the same thing yesterday, but every time he was indoors again he kept forgetting the cold.

He walked the short distance from the bus stop to the campus without paying attention to his surroundings, and was startled to hear someone call 'Jake!' as he crossed the courtyard. Startled, too, at the little jump his heart gave on hearing that voice. He turned around, and felt himself smiling for the first time in days.

'Owen! What are you doing here?'

'Interviewing one of your teachers, I think. They moved me back to CID here, you see. Just returned last week.'

Jake didn't really know what to say. Although his association with DI Collins had started and ended with a criminal investigation, there had always been a bit more to their relationship than that. Owen had been kind to him, talked to him as if he was a real human being rather than just another witness or suspect, and they had kept in touch after the enquiry into his family was finished. Owen had been the one to comfort him after he had been shot. He'd been indulgent and protective and affectionate. He had also made it very clear that Jake would get nowhere trying to get him into bed. Then the detective had moved to Oxford, and Jake would be the first to admit he hadn't been great at keeping in touch. And now suddenly here he was, unchanged, smiling his easy smile. Jake realised he hadn't said anything yet, mainly because he couldn't choose from the many thoughts crowding in.

'You all right, Jake? Look, I can't talk now, but I'll give you a ring soon. We'll meet up, okay?'

'I'd like that,' Jake said, swallowing back the rest.