Shooting Elvis Read Free

with.’
    ‘We can?’
    ‘No problem.’
    Rest and then exercise was the solution. She’d had the rest, so now it was a strict regime of exercises to strengthen up the supporting muscles around the knee. Running hammered the joint, but it did little to strengthen it. When the Doc learned that Sonia had access to a million pound gymnasium, you’d have thought he’d won the lottery.
    ‘You’re a remarkable young woman,’ he told her. ‘God has given you a perfect physique and a remarkable talent. You can conquer this. OK, so you probably won’t ever run at the Olympics, but you can beat the injury and run again. Maybe evenwin races. Do you hear what I’m saying?’
    Sonia nodded, then said, ‘I think so, Dr Williamson.’
    ‘Give me your hands,’ he said, and she reached across the table towards his outstretched ones. He took hers and held them, gently.
    ‘I remember your accident,’ he told her. ‘Your not going to the Olympics was a disappointment for all of us. We shared it with you. Look at me.’
    Sonia looked at him.
    ‘What do you see?’
    She hesitated, then said, ‘I see a very kind man. And a wise one.’
    He smiled, big teeth flashing in his dark face. ‘I can be really mean at times, my wife tells me. And foolish, too. But if there is one thing I know about, it’s disappointment. It takes time, but you have to move on from it. Do the work, Miss Thornton, and I’ll listen out for The Gazelle on the sports channel.’
     
    It’s an old army trick, spitting on your shoes when you polish them. Spit and polish , that’s what they call it. At first it dulls whatever shine you’ve achieved, but then, as you buff the leather, it begins to reflect its surroundings back at you with increased intensity, taking on their colours until the blackness is defined by its absence. Newton declared that the colour black was caused by the total absorption of light, but he never considered an old soldier’s boots. Or maybe he chose to ignorethis contradiction to his theory. The man gave the shoe a final rub with the yellow duster, held it up for inspection for a moment and placed it on the floor tiles, next to its glowing partner. He pulled on his leather slippers, looked at his watch, and went into the parlour, where the television stood.
    He’d listened to local radio throughout the day, when he had the opportunity, but there had been nothing about the strange and untimely death of Alfred Armitage, just the usual gossip about sport. TV news was, hopefully, more comprehensive. After the montage of activities that the people of the area ceaselessly indulge in – fell running, hot air ballooning, white water canoeing – the familiar, slightly embarrassed, face of Look North came onto the screen. The presenter gave his nervous smile, swung round to the next camera and launched into his script. A woman had been stabbed in Harrogate; a terrier was trapped down a badger sett near Selby; police were hunting a hit-and -run driver in Bradford. No old men had been found electrocuted.
    The man stroked his chin and wondered why the news hadn’t broken. Alfred’s home help came on Monday mornings and should have found the body, which left plenty of time for the story to leak out. Perhaps the police were withholding the news deliberately while they pursued their lines of enquiry. He smiled at that thought. If that was the case, they were wasting time. It was possible, ofcourse, that the home help never arrived – everybody knew how unreliable social services were – and Alfred was still sitting there, undiscovered. He wondered about making a phone call to speed things up, then decided against it. Patience was the word; he’d give it another twenty-four hours. He killed the BBC and switched to a video he’d made of Top Gear .
     
    Sonia had done the work, spending hours after her shift ended on the cycling machine and all the other contraptions that look as if they were modern-day equivalents of Inquisition instruments