Karen stood in front of me.
She held my hands.
‘Pat,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you came.’
‘For God’s sake, Karen –’
‘Pat, I’m glad you came.’
I knew what I had to say.
‘So am I,’ I said. ‘I just wish –’
‘What?’ she said.
‘I wish I had done this sooner.’
‘Ah, well,’ she said. ‘Joe said the same thing.’
I played along.
‘Did he?’ I said.
‘Yes.’
‘We were stupid,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘We were.’
‘I meant me and Joe,’ I said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That too. But here you are.’
Her hands went around me and we hugged. I kissed the side of her face. Her ear was right there, ready for my words.
And I saw my son looking at me.
My son, Gavin, was standing beside the fridge.
But I had seen Gavin already. It was a dream – I remembered. I wasn’t going to let it happen all over again.
I whispered into Karen’s ear.
‘I know what’s going on,’ I said.
She lifted her hand. She patted my shoulder.
‘Go in and see Joe,’ she said.
I still held on to her.
‘I know what’s going on, Karen,’ I said.
‘Go in and see Joe,’ she said.
I was going to shock her. I was going to say something really bad.
I put my mouth to her ear.
Then I saw my son, Gavin, over at the fridge.
What was he doing there?
Then I remembered. Gavin had spent days in this house when he was a little lad. He had played with Sam. He had called Joe, Uncle Joe. He had called Karen, Aunty Karen.
I let go of Karen.
I smiled across at Gavin. He smiled back. I was going to go over and chat to him and the girl he was with. Who was she? I hadn’t seen her before.
Karen patted my shoulder.
‘Go in and see Joe,’ she said.
Her hand stayed on my shoulder.
‘Okay,’ I said.
I looked over at Gavin.
I shouted across to him.
‘I’ll be back in a minute!’
The words felt strange and dry, like I had used them before. I had used them before.
‘Will this go on for ever?’ I asked Karen.
‘Go in and see Joe,’ she said.
And she gave me a gentle push.
‘Go on,’ she said. ‘He’s waiting for you.’
I smiled. I kissed her on the cheek again, and turned.
Sarah was right behind me. I nearly walked into her.
‘All right?’ she asked.
‘I was just talking to Karen,’ I said.
‘So I see,’ said Sarah.
I could feel my face going red.
‘I was only talking to her,’ I said.
‘So I see,’ she said.
‘It was only once,’ I said. ‘Sarah, I’m sorry. It meant nothing. It was just a fling.’
She looked at me. She was waiting for me to say the right thing.
‘I’m going to see Joe,’ I told her.
‘Good,’ she said.
I kept falling in and out of the story. That was what it felt like. I remembered it was a dream. I forgot it was a dream. I knew I had to do something.
I had to grab Sarah, and escape. Then I’d wake up.
I knew I had to do something.
I stood in front of Sarah.
I knew I had to do something.
Then the woman. Sandra. She was standing beside Sarah.
The glasses were still on top of her head.
‘Do you know Sandra?’ Sarah asked me.
I looked at Sarah.
‘Sarah, come on. Let’s go.’
‘Sandra used to live around here,’ said Sarah.
Sandra put her hand out.
‘Nice to meet you – is it Pat?’
I looked around.
Karen was looking. Gavin was looking. Sarah was looking. Sandra was looking.
I grabbed Sarah’s arm.
‘Come on, Sarah,’ I said.
She said nothing. She didn’t look at my hand on her arm.
‘Sarah,’ I said. ‘Come on. We can get out now.’
I pulled her arm. She didn’t move. It was like she was stuck to the floor.
I looked at her.
‘Sarah?’
She just looked back. She said nothing. She smiled. But it wasn’t a real smile.
Everyone in the kitchen was looking at me. But they seemed closer. The kitchen was smaller.
I let go of Sarah. I pushed past people. I got to the door. I was in the hall.
‘Is that Pat Dunne?’
I pushed past Mrs Webb.
‘Is that Pat Dunne?’
If I got out of the house, I’d wake up. Sarah and Gavin would be with me again. Life would be back to normal.
I went past the room where the coffin was. I didn’t look in. I heard Joe laugh. I kept going.
I was at the front door.
Sam stood in front of me.
‘I have to go,’ I told him.
He said nothing. He just stood there. He was a big kid but I pushed him aside.
I grabbed the handle.
I heard Joe laugh.
The door wouldn’t open. It was stiff, like it hadn’t been opened in years.
Sam stood in front of me. I pushed him again.
‘Is that Pat Dunne?’
I lifted my elbow and hit the door glass, hard. It cracked. I hit it again. I stepped back and kicked with my heel.
‘Is that Pat Dunne?’
I heard Joe laugh.
The glass fell out, bit by bit. I kicked, I kicked. I kicked until there was space for me to climb out. I cut my hand. I didn’t care. I felt the cold air on my face. Glass cut the top of my head. I kept going.
I was out.
I was in the garden.
It was cold and I was safe. I was back in the real world. I didn’t look back.
I heard no more laughing.
I ran.
I tried to run all the way. But I wasn’t fit. I was real. I was a middle-aged man. It was raining. The rain was real. My breath was real. I walked as fast as I could. I was nearly home. I was cold.
I turned the corner of our street.
I got to the house, up the drive. I took the keys from my pocket. My fingers were freezing and stiff. The door key felt too big in my hand. I dropped the key. I had to pick it up again.
I pushed open the door. I wanted to feel the heat.
I was home now. I was awake. I was safe.
I turned on the hall light.
‘Pat!’
Sarah was standing there.
She looked scared, like she had just seen a mouse or something.
‘What’s wrong?’ I said.
She was holding her mobile phone.
‘It’s Joe,’ she said.
‘Joe who?’ I asked.
She shouted at me.
‘Joe!’
She looked pale. Her hands were shaking.
I understood now.
‘My Joe?’ I said.
She nodded.
‘Oh, God,’ I said. ‘What happened?’
‘He’s –’
‘Dead?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Pat, I’m so sorry.’
She started to cry. And so did I.
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Out of the Dark
Adèle Geras
Rob Stone comes back from the horrors of the First World War with a ruined face and a broken heart. Lonely, unable to forget the things he has seen, and haunted by the ghost of his dead captain, all that Rob has left is a picture of the captain’s family. Rob sets out to find them, hoping that by giving them the picture, he can bring peace to the captain’s ghost – and to his own troubled heart.
Quercus
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The Booker Prize Foundation
Dead Man Talking is the result of Galaxy® Quick Reads and the Booker Prize Foundation working together.
The Booker Prize Foundation is a registered charity (no 1090049). Since 2002, it has awarded the Man Booker Prize for Fiction. This is one of the UK’s oldest and most respected literary prizes.
Roddy Doyle won the Booker Prize in 1993 for his novel, Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha. He is the first Man Booker Prize author to write a Galaxy® Quick Read.
Roddy Doyle’s Quick Read will expand the existing reach of the Foundation’s Books Unlocked programme. This is part of the charity’s commitment to building the bridge between literature and literacy.
With the help of the National Literacy Trust, Books Unlocked promotes literacy in prisons and young offender institutions. It is designed to engage prisoners in reading. The programme aims to increase their enjoyment of reading and to get prisoners reading more often. We hope, too, to introduce them to new books, nominated for the Man Booker Prize, which they might not have previously enjoyed.
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Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9781473521049
www.randomhouse.co.uk
Published by Jonathan Cape 2015
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Copyright © Roddy Doyle 2015
Roddy Doyle has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
First published in Great Britain in 2015 by
Jonathan Cape
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road,
London SW1V 2SA
www.vintage-books.co.uk
global.penguinrandomhouse.com
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780224102216
Roddy Doyle, Dead Man Talking
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