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- Колин Маккалоу
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- Стр. 523/535
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Upon
the
heels
of
which
thought
she
wept
miserably
,
succeeded
in
getting
enough
hold
upon
herself
to
tell
herself
not
to
be
so
stupid
,
twisted
about
and
thumped
her
pillow
in
a
fruitless
quest
after
sleep
,
then
lay
defeated
trying
to
read
a
script
.
After
a
few
pages
the
words
began
traitorously
to
blur
and
swim
together
,
and
try
as
she
would
to
use
her
old
trick
of
bulldozing
despair
into
some
back
corner
of
her
mind
,
it
ended
in
overwhelming
her
.
Finally
as
the
slovenly
light
of
a
late
London
dawn
seeped
through
the
windows
she
sat
down
at
her
desk
,
feeling
the
cold
,
hearing
the
distant
growl
of
traffic
,
smelling
the
damp
,
tasting
the
sourness
.
Suddenly
the
idea
of
Drogheda
seemed
wonderful
.
Sweet
pure
air
,
a
naturally
broken
silence
.
Peace
.
She
picked
up
one
of
her
black
felt-tipped
pens
and
began
a
letter
to
her
mother
,
her
tears
drying
as
she
wrote
.
I
just
hope
you
understand
why
I
have
n't
been
home
since
Dane
died
[
she
said
]
,
but
no
matter
what
you
think
about
that
,
I
know
you
'll
be
pleased
to
hear
that
I
'm
going
to
rectify
my
omission
permanently
.
Yes
,
that
's
right
.
I
'm
coming
home
for
good
,
Mum
.
You
were
right
--
the
time
has
come
when
I
long
for
Drogheda
.
I
've
had
my
flutter
,
and
I
've
discovered
it
does
n't
mean
anything
to
me
at
all
.
What
's
in
it
for
me
,
trailing
around
a
stage
for
the
rest
of
my
life
?
And
what
else
is
there
here
for
me
aside
from
the
stage
?
I
want
something
safe
,
permanent
,
enduring
,
so
I
'm
coming
home
to
Drogheda
,
which
is
all
those
things
.
No
more
empty
dreams
.
Who
knows
?
Maybe
I
'll
marry
Boy
King
if
he
still
wants
me
,
finally
do
something
worthwhile
with
my
life
,
like
having
a
tribe
of
little
Northwest
plainsmen
.
I
'm
tired
,
Mum
,
so
tired
I
do
n't
know
what
I
'm
saying
,
and
I
wish
I
had
the
power
to
write
what
I
'm
feeling
.
Well
,
I
'll
struggle
with
it
another
time
.
Lady
Macbeth
is
over
and
I
had
n't
decided
what
to
do
with
the
coming
season
yet
,
so
I
wo
n't
inconvenience
anyone
by
deciding
to
bow
out
of
acting
.
London
is
teeming
with
actresses
.
Clyde
can
replace
me
adequately
in
two
seconds
,
but
you
ca
n't
,
can
you
?
I
'm
sorry
it
's
taken
me
thirty-one
years
to
realize
that
.
Had
Rain
not
helped
me
it
might
have
taken
even
longer
,
but
he
's
a
most
perceptive
bloke
.
He
's
never
met
you
,
yet
he
seems
to
understand
you
better
than
I
do
.
Still
,
they
say
the
onlooker
sees
the
game
best
.
That
's
certainly
true
of
him
.
I
'm
fed
up
with
him
,
always
supervising
my
life
from
his
Olympian
heights
.
He
seems
to
think
he
owes
Dane
some
sort
of
debt
or
promise
,
and
he
's
forever
making
a
nuisance
of
himself
popping
over
to
see
me
;
only
I
've
finally
realized
that
I
'm
the
nuisance
.
If
I
'm
safely
on
Drogheda
the
debt
or
promise
or
whatever
it
was
is
canceled
,
is
n't
it
?
He
ought
to
be
grateful
for
the
plane
trips
I
'll
save
him
,
anyway
.
As
soon
as
I
've
got
myself
organized
I
'll
write
again
,
tell
you
when
to
expect
me
.
In
the
meantime
,
remember
that
in
my
strange
way
I
do
love
you
.
She
signed
her
name
without
its
usual
flourish
,
more
like
the
"
Justine
"
which
used
to
appear
on
the
bottom
of
dutiful
letters
written
from
boarding
school
under
the
eagle
eye
of
a
censoring
nun
.
Then
she
folded
the
sheets
,
put
them
in
an
airmail
envelope
and
addressed
it
.
On
the
way
to
the
theater
for
the
final
performance
of
Macbeth
she
posted
it
.
