The Wasp Factory Page 0,60

troops had had their fingers burned, but I still had all my other resources. I would prevail, but not through the direct application of my powers. At least, not through the direct application of any other power but imaginative intelligence, and that, ultimately, was the bedrock for everything else. If it could not meet the challenge that Eric represented, then I deserved to be destroyed.

My father was still painting, hauling his way up ladders to windows with the paint-tin and brush clenched between his teeth. I offered to help, but he insisted on doing it himself. I had used the ladders myself several times in the past when I was trying to find a way into my father’s study, but he had special locks on the windows, and even kept the blinds down and curtains drawn. I was glad to see the difficulty he had making his way up the ladder. He’d never make it up into the loft. It crossed my mind that it was just as well the house was the height it was, or he might just have been able to climb a ladder to the roof and be able to see through the skylights into the loft. But we were both safe, our respective citadels secure for the foreseeable future.

For once my father let me make the dinner, and I made a vegetable curry we would both find acceptable while watching an Open University programme on geology on the portable television, which I had taken through to the kitchen for the purpose. Once the business with Eric was over, I decided, I really must restart my campaign to persuade my father to get a VTR. It was too easy to miss good programmes on fine days.

After our meal my father went into town. This was unusual, but I didn’t ask why he was going. He looked tired after his day spent climbing and reaching, but he went up to his room, changed into his town clothes, and came limping back into the lounge to bid me farewell.

‘I’ll be off, then,’ he said. He looked round the lounge as though searching for some evidence I had started some heinous mischief already, before he had even left. I watched the TV and nodded without looking at him.

‘Right you are,’ I said.

‘I won’t be late. You don’t have to lock up.’

‘OK.’

‘You’ll be all right, then?’

‘Oh, yes.’ I looked at him, crossed my arms and settled deeper into the old easy chair. He stepped back, so that both feet were in the hall and his body was canted into the lounge, only his hand on the door-knob stopping him from falling in. He nodded again, the cap on his head dipping once.

‘Right. I’ll see you later. See you behave yourself.’

I smiled and looked back to the screen. ‘Yes, Dad. See you.’

‘Hnnh,’ he said, and with one last look round the lounge, as if still checking for vanished silver, he closed the door and I heard him clicking down the hall and out the front door. I watched him go up the path, sat for a while, then went up and tested the door to the study, which, as usual, as always, was so firm it might as well have been part of the wall.

I had fallen asleep. The light outside was waning, some awful American crime series was on the television, and my head was sore. I blinked through gummed eyes, yawned to unstick my lips and get some air into my stale-tasting mouth. I yawned and stretched, then froze; I could hear the telephone.

I leaped out of the seat, stumbled, almost fell, then got to the door, the hall, the stairs and finally the phone as quickly as I could. I lifted the receiver with my right hand, which hurt. I pressed the phone to my ear.

‘Hello?’ I said.

‘Hi, Frankie lad, how’s it goin’?’ said Jamie. I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. I sighed.

‘Ah, Jamie. OK. How are you?’

‘Off work. Dropped a plank on my foot this morning and it’s all swollen.’

‘Nothing too serious, though?’

‘Naw. I’ll get the rest of the week off if I’m lucky. I’m goin’ to see the doctor tomorrow for a sick line. Just thought I’d let you know I’ll be at home during the day. You can bring me grapes sometime if you want.’

‘OK. I’ll come round maybe tomorrow. I’ll give you a call first to let you know.’

‘Great. Any more word from you-know-who?’

‘Nup. I thought that might have been him when