Hold Back the Night Read Free Page B

to a woman? It turned out to be quite ...'
    'A novelty for her! And why not? She had slept with everything else, in every country of the world. A blind man must have amused her.'
    A terrible bitterness had entered his voice, and his movements were far jerkier than usual as he felt for the lever that turned off the gas jet on the outmoded stove. He reached too rashly for the singing kettle, fingers springing away from hot steam and then moving more carefully to locate the insulated handle. He felt for the readied coffee mug, found it, and eased his thumb down over the rim. He lowered the kettle's spout until he heard the faint clink of it against china, and then slowly, to avoid another accident, he poured. The little shock of pain in his thumb told him when the boiling water had reached the right mark. He gritted his teeth, replaced the kettle on the hob, and remained at the counter with his shoulders hunched against Miranda, hating her concern, hating his dependency, hating the awful black abyss in which he existed.
    'Well, are you coming downstairs?'
    He controlled his voice. 'You know the answer as well as I do. If she's willing to pay, take what you can get.'
    'No,' Miranda said fiercely. 'I won't. Either you come and meet her, or there's no sale at all. Make up your mind!'
    He lifted the mug and took a swallow that burned his tongue. Damning himself because he had known full well it was still too hot, he dashed the coffee towards the sink, his inaccurate aim splashing the counter and his own shirt. The soggy toast crumbs in his mouth tasted like gall, a fitting bitterness to feed the wormwood that was his soul.
    'Will you never leave me in peace?' he raged in a cry that encompassed the whole world. Miranda turned and left the kitchen without a word.
    After a few minutes he followed because he knew he must. His pride stuck in his craw, but normally Miranda didn't make threats; she might mean what she said.
    On this familiar floor he could move with the outward surety of a sighted person, although in his long night no step could be taken in full, true confidence of its outcome. The internal mechanisms, refined by necessity, told him what path to follow, how many steps to take, when to lift his hand to ascertain the position of the door frame. Against it a white cane rested. He passed it by, bitterly conscious that it was there but not touching it. Only when he neared the top of the banisters did he slow, testing with one outstretched hand to feel what hazards might lie in wait in the sinister void that loomed ahead. There was only Miranda, waiting to lead him down.
    ❧
    Domini was still immersed in her own wrenching thoughts, eyes turned to the window and the unicorn, when she heard the squeaking noises of descent. 'Well, here we are,' came Miranda's voice, sounding artificially bright, from the direction of the stairs. Then, to the person whose measured footfall Domini could now hear: 'Now mind, there's one more step. And watch for those shelves ... '
    'I know,' came the rejoinder that sounded very like a curse. 'Now let go of my arm, will you? I'll manage.'
    'Stop scolding,' Miranda sighed as the footsteps started to cross the room. 'I'm only trying to help.'
    Domini schooled her face in preparation for the introduction. When the footsteps neared she turned, still smiling, and took in Miranda's face on a level with her own. Then her gaze slid upward to find hooded, sightless eyes of a silvered darkness that was graven in Domini's memory. The room started to swirl around those eyes, making it impossible for her to see the rest of the face...
    But it couldn't be. It couldn't. It must be a trick of the light, a function of the sudden terrible dizziness that had assailed her, robbing her brain of blood and her knees of strength. Clutching for sanity, she tried to tell herself that her imagination had been working too hard since her first sight of the unicorn, that it had been over-stimulated by the return of too many bitter