From a Drood to a Kill - Simon R. Green Page 0,67

bravest and our best. Still, look on the bright side, eh? At least the Hall isn’t so crowded any more. We won’t have to move anytime soon. I really wasn’t looking forward to that.”

I looked at William. He didn’t seem to be joking.

We sorted through Jack’s few belongings. There weren’t that many. He never did care much for . . . things. Not outside of the Armoury, anyway. There were only two framed photographs, on the small bedside table. One showed Jack with his wife, Clara, not long after they were married. It was a carefully cropped close-up of just the two of them, with no background. Could have been taken anywhere. Tellingly, there was nothing in the photo to link them to the Droods, or to Drood Hall. Just two not-so-young people, smiling happily at each other, obviously very much in love.

I thought the other framed photo would be of their son, Timothy, perhaps when he was just a child. Instead it turned out to be a photo of me. Smiling broadly into the camera. I picked it up and looked at myself. It was hard to believe I’d ever been that young. I recognised the image immediately. The Armourer took the photo on the day I left Drood Hall for the very first time. Full of hope and ambition and confidence, with no idea how my life was going to turn out. I was so happy then, and so impatient to be off and put the family behind me. William moved in beside me.

“You look . . . very keen,” he said.

“Couldn’t wait to be on my way,” I said. “All I wanted then was to run away from home and never have to see any of my family again. I never knew Jack kept this photo all this time.”

I put it down on the bedside table. I could feel my throat closing up again.

Jack’s bookshelves were packed from end to end—not with science books or weapons manuals, but with dozens of old science fiction magazines from the Fifties and Sixties. Analog, F&SF, Galaxy . . . And a complete set of Arkham House first editions. They all looked very well read. I had to smile. I loved the idea of my uncle Jack sitting down after a hard day’s work and relaxing by reading the grim cosmic horror tales of H. P. Lovecraft.

“Would you like those?” said William. “I’m sure he’d want them to go to someone who’d appreciate them. The Matriarch would just sell them all off. I understand this kind of thing can raise a bundle on eBay.”

“Yes,” I said, “I’d like them.”

“No problem! I’ll hide them away in the Library,” said William, “until you’re ready to pick them up. Who’ll notice a few more books in a Library, hmm?”

“He doesn’t seem to have any films,” I said. “No DVDs or Blu-rays. Not even any laser discs, and I know he had a complete set of Hammer films on those.”

“He kept all his favourite films and television shows on his computer,” said William. “Though don’t ask me when he ever found the time to sit down and watch them. Don’t worry, I’ve already removed all his porn.”

He winked at me roguishly, and once again I had no idea at all whether he was joking.

I opened up the heavy old-fashioned wardrobe that took up half a wall. Inside were a dozen freshly laundered white lab coats, all of them positively crackling with starch. Hanging side by side, ready for use. Along with a dozen pairs of identical grey slacks, and a dozen pairs of freshly shined black shoes. So he could just reach out and take the next in line when he needed it, without having to think about it. He never could be bothered with things that didn’t matter to him. His thoughts were always somewhere else.

“Who did his T-shirts for him?” I said suddenly. “I don’t see any here, but every time I met him, he always seemed to have a new one, saying something appalling.”

“It was a competition,” said William. “The lab assistants got to make suggestions, and Jack would wear the ones he liked most. The winning assistant was honoured by being allowed to wear one just like it. I’m told competition was very fierce.”

“I never knew that,” I said. “What else didn’t I know about him because I couldn’t be bothered to ask?”

“You can’t know everything about anyone,” said William.

“I should have tried.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Eddie.”

“Somebody has to be,”