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.The other Callie the house created for you.We couldn’t come with you to town because we no longer exist outside of this house.And we didn’t want you spending too much time away because when you’re away from Hyperion its power starts to fade.’‘So the phone calls, the flights, the “meetings” in other towns, none of them ever happened? They couldn’t, because you couldn’t be there, could you? Once you died, you were tied to the house.It was you who put the postcards in the mailbox.Bobbie could never really go to school somewhere else because she doesn’t exist outside of Hyperion.’ I shook my head at him.‘You’re a fool.Francesco Condemaine was wrong.Tragedy always finds a way out.Did you honestly think you could keep hiding the truth forever?’Mateo and Bobbie looked at each other and then at me.They had no easy answers, and nothing more to say.‘I have one question,’ I said, trying to sound in control of my emotions.‘This feels real.I feel real.Which side is real and which is the dream? Does the true world belong to those things in there, or to us, in here?’Bobby put down her fork and raised her index finger, slowly pointing back through the wall behind her, to the dark side where there was only insanity and death.‘To them,’ she said.CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHTThe EndI STOOD ON the balls of my bare feet, balancing in the doorway that connected two worlds; living and dead, real and false, sane and mad, light and dark.In one side my husband and step-daughter sat quietly and happily at a table, finishing their dinner, thinking of dessert and games to play, discussing the next day, and the day after that.In the other there was nothing but loss and sickness and insanity.Francesco had known that the two worlds would have to be kept separate.And he knew they could only exist here in the house.It was the flaw in his plan, and he had no way of resolving it.But the worst part of all was knowing which side was real.Rosita stepped forward and tugged at the hem of my T-shirt.‘Please, Senora, you must forget all of this.You can live as before, like the others.You can still be happy here.’I turned to her.‘You knew, Rosita.You always knew, just as your mother and grandmother did before you.Just as Jerardo knew.Someone had to take care of the house.’‘You must see it as we see it,’ she said, ‘as a force for good.I was always honest with you.I always told you there were no ghosts here.There is only what happens in life, to everyone.’‘And what happens to most of us is tragedy, is that it? Well I don’t believe you.I don’t believe that we must always lose more than we gain.If we thought that there would be no point in going on, would there?’‘Tell me, Senora, is it better to know everything, or to be happy?’I had no answer for that.All I knew was that it could not continue.I balanced in the doorway and raised the yellow canister, and unscrewed the lid, filling the house with the scent of kerosene.‘Listen to me, Callie,’ Mateo pleaded.‘If you do this, you’ll lose me forever.’‘I already lost you,’ I replied, and began to pour.CHAPTER FORTY-NINEThe BeginningTHE ROOM IS blessedly cold.The icy air pumps through the slotted steel ventilation panel in the ceiling.I hate air-conditioned rooms.It’s very white.I must still be in Spain; the light outside is dazzling.There is a huge picture window and the blind is half down, diagonally dividing the room into light and shade.How appropriate.The bed is sliced into two equal pieces.I’m not sure which half I’m in.I hear the squeak of trainers on rubber tiles and turn my head to see a nurse, overweight and jolly enough to quickly become annoying.She moves to the side of the bed and adjusts something – a saline drip.The tube goes into the back of my right hand, held in place with a rectangle of pink tape.My other arm is sore with what feels like a bad burn, and is bandaged from the wrist to just above the elbow.‘Well now, look who’s awake.I bet you’re ready for your din-dins.’Fucking hell, she’s from Kent.What’s she doing here? That awful Estuarine accent, smug and condescending.I decide not to answer her.‘You’ve been asleep for a very long time, sweetheart.Did you have lovely dreams? How are you feeling? Dry mouth, I imagine.There’s some water by your pillow, love, whenever you’re ready.’I point to the end of the bed.‘What do you want? Oh, the mirror? Hang on a mo.’ She presses the button that adjusts the bed, and it slowly rises so that I can see myself.Jesus Christ, I look awful, like I’ve lost half my body weight.I haven’t been this bad since I made myself anorexic.I try to speak.She gets the message and tips some water into my mouth, then waits patiently while I smack my lips and move my tongue.‘What happened?’ I manage to croak.‘Where is my husband?’For the first time, she looks uncomfortable.‘I’ll just go and get someone for you.’‘Where is Mateo?’ I shout, and a black spear of pain shoots through my temples, and I fall back on the freshly laundered pillow.As consciousness starts to seep away, I catch myself wondering; which side am I in? My real life or my dream life?I sleep like the dead.From time to time I awake.Sometimes the sun is too high to be seen, sometimes it’s low in a blue and orange sky.Nobody visits.Gradually I stay awake for longer and longer periods.Gradually my memory returns.The smell of kerosene, the heat of the flames, the crack and roar as the ceiling falls in.I stand in the garden watching it burn, knowing that I have freed them, and in doing so, I have damned myself.Above the cliffs, high in the night sky, the constellation of Ursa Major shines down mockingly, the stars in alignment at the end of Hyperion’s life, just as they were at the beginning.Nobody will answer my question, no matter how many times I repeat it.The doctor will talk to you about that, they say.Someone will come to see you shortly.But no-one ever comes.Who is there left who could help me?Gradually I reach the understanding that Mateo and Bobbie have gone.I receive no visitors.No-one talks to me about what happened [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.The other Callie the house created for you.We couldn’t come with you to town because we no longer exist outside of this house.And we didn’t want you spending too much time away because when you’re away from Hyperion its power starts to fade.’‘So the phone calls, the flights, the “meetings” in other towns, none of them ever happened? They couldn’t, because you couldn’t be there, could you? Once you died, you were tied to the house.It was you who put the postcards in the mailbox.Bobbie could never really go to school somewhere else because she doesn’t exist outside of Hyperion.’ I shook my head at him.‘You’re a fool.Francesco Condemaine was wrong.Tragedy always finds a way out.Did you honestly think you could keep hiding the truth forever?’Mateo and Bobbie looked at each other and then at me.They had no easy answers, and nothing more to say.‘I have one question,’ I said, trying to sound in control of my emotions.‘This feels real.I feel real.Which side is real and which is the dream? Does the true world belong to those things in there, or to us, in here?’Bobby put down her fork and raised her index finger, slowly pointing back through the wall behind her, to the dark side where there was only insanity and death.‘To them,’ she said.CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHTThe EndI STOOD ON the balls of my bare feet, balancing in the doorway that connected two worlds; living and dead, real and false, sane and mad, light and dark.In one side my husband and step-daughter sat quietly and happily at a table, finishing their dinner, thinking of dessert and games to play, discussing the next day, and the day after that.In the other there was nothing but loss and sickness and insanity.Francesco had known that the two worlds would have to be kept separate.And he knew they could only exist here in the house.It was the flaw in his plan, and he had no way of resolving it.But the worst part of all was knowing which side was real.Rosita stepped forward and tugged at the hem of my T-shirt.‘Please, Senora, you must forget all of this.You can live as before, like the others.You can still be happy here.’I turned to her.‘You knew, Rosita.You always knew, just as your mother and grandmother did before you.Just as Jerardo knew.Someone had to take care of the house.’‘You must see it as we see it,’ she said, ‘as a force for good.I was always honest with you.I always told you there were no ghosts here.There is only what happens in life, to everyone.’‘And what happens to most of us is tragedy, is that it? Well I don’t believe you.I don’t believe that we must always lose more than we gain.If we thought that there would be no point in going on, would there?’‘Tell me, Senora, is it better to know everything, or to be happy?’I had no answer for that.All I knew was that it could not continue.I balanced in the doorway and raised the yellow canister, and unscrewed the lid, filling the house with the scent of kerosene.‘Listen to me, Callie,’ Mateo pleaded.‘If you do this, you’ll lose me forever.’‘I already lost you,’ I replied, and began to pour.CHAPTER FORTY-NINEThe BeginningTHE ROOM IS blessedly cold.The icy air pumps through the slotted steel ventilation panel in the ceiling.I hate air-conditioned rooms.It’s very white.I must still be in Spain; the light outside is dazzling.There is a huge picture window and the blind is half down, diagonally dividing the room into light and shade.How appropriate.The bed is sliced into two equal pieces.I’m not sure which half I’m in.I hear the squeak of trainers on rubber tiles and turn my head to see a nurse, overweight and jolly enough to quickly become annoying.She moves to the side of the bed and adjusts something – a saline drip.The tube goes into the back of my right hand, held in place with a rectangle of pink tape.My other arm is sore with what feels like a bad burn, and is bandaged from the wrist to just above the elbow.‘Well now, look who’s awake.I bet you’re ready for your din-dins.’Fucking hell, she’s from Kent.What’s she doing here? That awful Estuarine accent, smug and condescending.I decide not to answer her.‘You’ve been asleep for a very long time, sweetheart.Did you have lovely dreams? How are you feeling? Dry mouth, I imagine.There’s some water by your pillow, love, whenever you’re ready.’I point to the end of the bed.‘What do you want? Oh, the mirror? Hang on a mo.’ She presses the button that adjusts the bed, and it slowly rises so that I can see myself.Jesus Christ, I look awful, like I’ve lost half my body weight.I haven’t been this bad since I made myself anorexic.I try to speak.She gets the message and tips some water into my mouth, then waits patiently while I smack my lips and move my tongue.‘What happened?’ I manage to croak.‘Where is my husband?’For the first time, she looks uncomfortable.‘I’ll just go and get someone for you.’‘Where is Mateo?’ I shout, and a black spear of pain shoots through my temples, and I fall back on the freshly laundered pillow.As consciousness starts to seep away, I catch myself wondering; which side am I in? My real life or my dream life?I sleep like the dead.From time to time I awake.Sometimes the sun is too high to be seen, sometimes it’s low in a blue and orange sky.Nobody visits.Gradually I stay awake for longer and longer periods.Gradually my memory returns.The smell of kerosene, the heat of the flames, the crack and roar as the ceiling falls in.I stand in the garden watching it burn, knowing that I have freed them, and in doing so, I have damned myself.Above the cliffs, high in the night sky, the constellation of Ursa Major shines down mockingly, the stars in alignment at the end of Hyperion’s life, just as they were at the beginning.Nobody will answer my question, no matter how many times I repeat it.The doctor will talk to you about that, they say.Someone will come to see you shortly.But no-one ever comes.Who is there left who could help me?Gradually I reach the understanding that Mateo and Bobbie have gone.I receive no visitors.No-one talks to me about what happened [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]