The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [407]
He stopped kissing me and took a step back.
“Thursday, this is all wrong.”
“What could be wrong?” I asked, staring at him unsteadily. “Do you want to come and see my bedroom? It has a great view of the ceiling.”
I stumbled slightly and held the back of the sofa.
“What are you staring at?” I asked Pickwick, who was glaring at me.
“My head’s thumping,” muttered Arnold.
“So’s mine.”
Arnold cocked his head and listened. “It’s not our heads—it’s the door.”
“The door of perception,” I noted, “of heaven and hell.”
He opened the door and a very old woman dressed in blue gingham walked in. I started to giggle but stopped when she strode up to me and took away my wineglass.
“How many glasses have you had?”
“Two?” I replied, leaning against the table for support.
“Bottles,” corrected Arnie.
“Crates,” I added, giggling, although nothing actually seemed that funny all of a sudden. “Listen here, Gingham Woman,” I added, wagging my finger, “give me my glass back.”
“What about the baby?” she demanded, staring at me dangerously.
“What baby? Who’s having a baby? Arnie, are you having a baby?”
“It’s worse than I thought,” she muttered. “Do the names Aornis and Landen mean anything to you?”
“Not a thing, but I’ll drink to them, if you want. Hello, Randolph.”
Randolph and Lola had arrived at the doorstep and were staring at me in shock.
“What?” I asked them. “Have I grown a second head or something?”
“Lola, fetch a spoon,” said Gingham Woman. “Randolph, take Thursday to the bathroom.”
“Why?” I collapsed in a heap. “I can walk. And why is there a carpet on the wall?”
The next thing I saw was the view down the back of Randolph’s legs and the living room floor, then the stairs, as I was carried up over his shoulder. I started to giggle but the rest was a bit blurry. I remember choking and throwing up in the loo, then being deposited in bed, then starting to cry.
“She died. Burned. I tried to help her. It was her hat, you know.”
“I know, darling. I’m your grandmother, do you remember?”
“Gran?” I sobbed, realizing who she was all of a sudden. “I’m sorry I called you Gingham Woman!”
“It’s okay. Perhaps being drunk is for the best. You’re going to sleep now, and dream—and in that dream you’ll do battle to win back your memories. Do you understand?”
“No.”
She sighed and wiped my forehead with her small, pink hand. It felt reassuring and I stopped crying.
“Be vigilant, my dear. Keep your wits about you and be stronger than you have ever been. We’ll see you on the other side, come the morning.”
But she was starting to fade as slumber swept over me, her voice ringing in my ears as my mind relaxed and transported me deep into my subconscious.
27.
The Lighthouse at the Edge of My Mind
The Hades family when I knew them comprised, in order of age, Acheron, Styx, Phlegethon, Cocytus, Lethe, and the only girl, Aornis. Their father had died many years previously, leaving their mother in charge of the youthful and diabolical family all on her own. Described once by Vlad the Impaler as “unspeakably repellent,” the Hades family drew strength from deviancy and committing every sort of horror that they could. Some with panache, some with halfhearted seriousness, others with a sort of relaxed insouciance about the whole thing. Lethe, the “white sheep” of the family, was hardly cruel at all—but the others more than made up for him. In time, I was to defeat three of them.
THURSDAY NEXT,
Hades: Family from Hell
A WAVE BURST ON the rocks behind me, showering me with cold water and flecks of foam. I shivered. I was on a rocky outcrop in the darkest gale-torn night, and before me stood a lighthouse. The wind whistled and moaned around the tower, and a flash of lightning struck the apex. The bolt coursed down the earthing cable and trailed a shower of sparks, leaving behind the acrid stench of brimstone. The lighthouse was as black as obsidian, and as I looked up, it seemed as though the arc lamp rotating within