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world there, below is
similar. Manage it to be
pulled out from an iron
grasp of the aunt from Cork
and to jump in a hole, the
earth would cover them as
a rolled lawn, and they
would be together. He
imagined to itself(himself)
their own cosy
underground world which
to it should not share with
mum or Elom, and there, in
darkness, they together
would play and laughed.
Probably, the daddy simply
did not love a sunlight, from
which eye at it shchurilis,
and the light skin burnt,
became covered by
freckles both was
scratched, and wished
from it to take cover. The
scorching sun always
irritated the daddy, and he
hid in a shade while they
with mum and Elom played
in a court yard. Mum
sunbathed all more
strongly, and the daddy
only turned pale and
abused a heat even more.
Perhaps, he simply wished
to have a rest from
summer, to get rid of an itch
and irritation.
When a coffin have
lowered in a hole, mother
has published such cry,
that El too has begun to cry.
Dzhastin knew, El cried not
because missed on the
daddy, it was simply
frightened by mum's
shouts. It has begun to sob,
when a sobbing of the
grandmother, mothers of
the father, have outgrown
in loud lamentations, and
here zahnykal El, and the
kind of the crying child has
touched all gathered. Even
at SHejmusa, the brother of
the father, always ready to
burst out laughing, lips have
begun to tremble, and on a
neck the vein as at the
weight-lifter, and Dzhastinu
has come to mind has
acted, that in uncle
Shejmusa other person sits
and tries to be pulled out
outside, but uncle Shejmus
does not start up it.
People never should cry.
After all it is necessary to
them to begin only …
Dzhastinu it would be
desirable to shout, that they
have ceased to play the
fool, El cries at all because
of the daddy, he in general
badly understands, that
occurs. All the day long he
was engaged in the fire
machine and only
occasionally interrogatively
looked on Dzhastina so that
had to take away eyes.
Still there there were men in
suits which bore a coffin.
They had no to the father
relatives or friends and did
not cry, as all the others.
However, they also did not
smile. They did not look
neither missing, nor
interested.
It seemed, they already
hundred times were
present on funeral of the
father, and them not so
excited, that he has again
died, though they had
against to dig nothing a
new hole and again him to
bury. Dzhastin looked, how
men handfuls threw the
earth on a coffin, and it
with knock fell on a cover. It
was interesting to it,
whether will clear knock
the daddy from its summer
drowsiness. And he did not
cry, as all the others
because has been
assured, that his father all
the same has taken cover
from light. More it should not
to one sit in a shade.
Dzhastin feels on itself a
steadfast sight of the
driver. It has bent to it so
close as though looks
forward to hearing to very
personal question, for
example, wishes to learn,
whether was sometime at
Dzhastina the same rash,
as at it.
- No, - silently speaks
Dzhastin, cleaning a throat
and hardly coming back to a
reality. The past tightens,
and to be pulled out from its
power uneasy.
- Here the car. - the driver
presses a charm, and
headlights of smart
"Mercedes" light up.
At Dzhastina from surprise
the jaw droops:
- You know, who all suited
it?
- No concept I have. - the
driver ploughs up before it
a door. - I receive tasks
from the boss. Though it
seemed to me strange to
write on the tablet
"Thanks". For you it
something means?
- Yes, means, but … all
so zaputanno. You could
not learn a name of the
customer from the owner?
- Dzhastin it is arranged on
a back seat and puts a
portfolio on a floor.
- I will try.
- It would be healthy. - here
I also will catch you!
Dzhastin leans back in a
convenient leather
armchair, extends feet and
closes eyes, hardly
constraining a smile.
- By the way, I Thomas, -
am represented the driver. -
I with you for all day so tell
where you would wish to
go then.
- For all day? - Dzhastin
nearly does not choke with
cold water from a bottle
inserted into an armrest. It
has rescued a life to the
rich man. To it Bea
something to name more
expensive, than fruitcakes
and newspapers. A
country house in the south
of France. What it was the
idiot that has not thought of
it earlier.
- Unless not your firm about
all has taken care? -
Thomas asks.
- No. - Dzhastin swings a
head. - precisely is not
present.
- Perhaps, you have a
fairy-God about whom you
do not know, - Thomas
passionlessly notices.
- Well, let's look, this
carriage is made of what
pumpkin, - laughs Dzhastin.
- At such movement at us
hardly that will turn out, -
Thomas speaks, braking,
hardly they jam in the Dublin
stoppers, especially
frequent this grey rainy
morning.
Dzhastin includes heating
and leans back on a back,
feeling as the seat is
warmed. Dumps boots,
lowers a back of an
armchair and relaxes in
comfortable salon,
observing for the
unfortunate passengers of
the buses drowsily looking
in misted over windows.
- After gallery bring me,
please, on D'Ole-strit. I need
to glance in the blood
transfusion Center.
- Certainly, the boss.
Impulses flies an October
wind, trying to break from
trees last leaves. They
keep strong, like nurses
from "Mary Poppins",
desperately clinging to
lampposts in Cherry street
that their flying competitor
has not blown off them far
away from house Benksov.
Leaves, as well as people,
are yet ready to surrender.
They strong keep for the
past, and let not in their
forces to remain green, I
swear, they to the last
battle for a place which so
long served them as the
house. I see, how one of
them stops struggle and is
not for long turned in air
before to fall to the earth. I
select it and slowly I twirl
for a shank. I do not love
autumn. I do not like to look,
how full lives leaves fade,
having lost fight with the
nature, the higher force
which it not to overcome.
- Here the car, - I inform
Kejt.
We stand through road
from National gallery,
behind the parked cars, in a
shade of the trees which
have hung over collars of
area Merrion.
- And you for it have paid?
- Is indignant Kejt. - You
indeed the madwoman.
- And I do not know that.
Generally I have paid half.
Frenki - the niece of the
driver, and he is an owner
of firm.
Pretend, that you do not
know it, if he looks in our
party.
- And I also do not know.
- Perfectly, very
convincingly.
- Joyce, I in a life it did not
see.
- Simply fine.
- How many you still
namerena to play these
games, Joyce? That you
got up there, in London,
seemed a cheerful joke, but
after all we know only that
it has handed over blood.
- For me.
- We do not know it.
- I know.
- Whence to you the
nobility?
- I know. Strangely enough.
She looks at me with such
doubt and pity, that I leave
myself.
- Kejt, yesterday for a
supper I ate karpachcho
and fenhel, and echoed
almost to all arias from full
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