Un Lun Dun - China Mieville [152]
Deeba hugged every one of her friends good-bye.
“Oh,” she said to Hemi. She fumbled in her pocket.
“Tell me you ain’t reaching for that money,” he said. She grinned.
“It’s no good to me,” she said, and held it out. “You might as well…” He took her hand gently, and closed her fingers back over it.
“This way you still owe me,” he muttered. “So this way you got to come back, to pay up.”
Deeba swallowed and nodded and hugged him again. She held her breath, and turned and ran to the edge of the bridge. There was a strain, an effort, a whining in the air, and Deeba felt a membrane split, somewhere in reality. The bridge dipped across the Odd. She ran towards the walkway by her front door, which she could see beyond the girders.
I dunno what might happen, she thought, giddy, head spinning. I could go back. I could live there, in a moil house with walls made out of wallets and windows made out of glasses. Or in a house like a goldfish bowl. I could catch a train from Manifest Station.
But right now…
She stepped off the bridge, and breathed deeply in the London night. She looked all around her. Curdle exhaled at her feet. Deeba smiled.
“Hush,” she told it. “And you.” She held up the rebrella. “Remember. Over on this side, when other people’re around, you stay still.”
She turned. The bridge still soared out across the estate. Standing near its edge, waving at her, were her friends. Joe Jones; Skool; Hemi the half-ghost, biting his lip; Bling and Cauldron, their bodies quite solid; and Obaday Fing, carrying the book.
Deeba blinked through tears and smiled. She raised her hand. The UnLondoners waved back. She and they looked across at each other, from city to abcity.
A cat yowled somewhere. Deeba glanced in its direction.
When she looked back, the Pons Absconditus was gone. Deeba stood alone on the concrete walkway, in the dark. In London.
Deeba gave a long, shaky sigh. She picked up Curdle, put it in her bag. She whispered to the rebrella: “Remember!”
Then she turned and unlocked her front door.
99
Memory
Deeba walked slowly through the living room. She was trembling. She heard voices from the kitchen.
She paused a moment, and looked at a photo on the mantel.
It was of her whole family. Deeba stared at it in horror. There was her mother, her father, her brother, smiling out…and there was she, but it was as if the film was underexposed in that corner of the picture. Or as if she stood in shadow. Or in fact, as if it was just hard to notice her there, smiling, her arms around her parents.
The picture was of four people, but it looked as if it was of three.
Her family were at the table eating supper. Deeba almost sobbed to see only three places set.
She walked in, looked at her parents and Hass, and brimmed with tears of relief, and nervousness. She wanted nothing more than to just run across the room to them, but she held back in fear, seeing their faces.
All three of them were staring at her blankly.
Her father had a fork halfway to his mouth. Food was dripping slowly off the metal tines. Her mother held a glass. Their faces were almost like voids. They looked slack, completely uncomprehending. Deeba saw a struggle deep inside each of them.
I was gone too long! she thought desperately. The phlegm effect’s gone permanent!
“Mum?” she whispered. “Dad? Hass?” They stared.
It’s only been eight days! she thought. Since I spoke to Dad, in the Talklands! But… A coldness hit her stomach. But it’s been more than nine since I left. Maybe it doesn’t do it, to phone. The time counts from when you’re gone. It’s too late…
“Mum? Dad? Hass?”
The Reshams quivered, and very slowly winced and blinked, and stared at Deeba, and something seemed to shudder and run through the room. One by one her family shivered as if at a chill, and they stretched their faces as if yawning, or shrugging something off.
“Can’t you sit down like a civilized person?” Mr. Resham said. It took several seconds before Deeba was sure he was speaking to her.
“What are you wearing?” Mrs. Resham said. “You funny girl.”
Deeba let out a little