Dialogues of the Dead

'Expensive work too,' said Dalziel. 'First round in the Black Bull's on you when you get back. Come on, Pete. Lad needs his rest and some of us have got work to do.' Out in the corridor, Pascoe said, 'Do we need to worry about Penn?' 'Only if he feels he donj,t need to worry about me. Hello, what's this? Don't usually see folk running into these places, just out.' The door at the end of the corridor had burst open to admit Rye Pomona at a run. She didn't look as if she would have stopped, but Dalziel's body was an obstacle not easily ignored. 'I got a message saying he's awake,' she gasped. : 'Awake, compos mentis, and asking about you,' smiled Pascoe. 'He's OK? Truly OK?' She spoke to Dalziel. Fair enough, thought Pascoe. I'm good enough for reassurance, but for assurance. Fat Andy's your only man. 'He's grand, luv. Bit weak still, but sight of you'll have him standing up in no time. How about yourself? You OK?' She looked OK. Indeed, with her golden skin flushed from running and her rich chestnut hair with its distinctive silver flash becomingly dishevelled, she could have modelled for a pre-Raphaelite picture of Atalanta diverted from her race by Aphrodite's golden apples. Except there were only three of them and with Andy Dalziel as diversion, the artist would have need to paint a whole barrelful. 'Yes,' she said impatiently. 'I'm fine. Went back to work today.' 'What? Miserable buggers. Should have thought they'd give you a month at least.' This indignation from one who believed that wheelchair access to police stations had been provided in order that convalescing cops could get back to their desks as soon as possible amused Pascoe. He saw it amused the young woman too. 'To do what?' she said. 'I've seen the quacks and the counsellors, I've taken the long country walks, I've got the victim T-shirt. I'm better off at work, and they're a bit short-handed there at the moment. We lost a couple of librarians recently, or haven't you heard? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go and see Hat.' She pushed past and went into the room. 'Good lass, yon,' said Dalziel. 'Bit lippy, but I don't mind that in a woman long as she's got the tits to go with it. Reminds me a bit of your Ellie when she were a lass.' Making a note to pass this intimation of senescence on to Ellie, Pascoe glanced through the glass panel. Rye was kneeling by the bed, clasping one of Hat's hands in both of hers and looking into his eyes. They weren't speaking. Pascoe did not know where they were, did not know about that magic mist which had wrapped itself round them the rime they walked along the margin of Stang Tarn, but he knew they were far away in some private place where even his distant gaze was an intrusion. 'Takes you back a couple of years, eh?' said Dalziel, who was peering over his shoulder. 'Further than that,' said Pascoe. 'Takes you right out of rime. Come away. We're strangers here.' 'Nay, lad. Not strangers. Just too busy to visit very often,' said Andy Dalziel.

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Chapter Forty-eight

THE LAST DIALOGUE ^ ,a^, :;>; dick dee: Where am I? geoff pyke-strengler; Dick Dee, by all that's wonderful! Hv^^ are you, old chap? ':',, ')'' DiCK:I'm. . .I'm not sure howlam. Geoffrey, is'that'you':'I'm so sorry .. .1.

geoff: What on earth for? Not your fault we're here. . ' ;

dick: Isn't it? I thought that... what is this place ... ? ;. geoff: Hard to explain, old boy. Not really a place at all. If you get', my drift. hots did you get here, anyway? ^ dick; It's all mixed up .. . there was this tunnel with a very bright:' light at the end of it... i sam johns on: How very conventional. I had bells and explosions amt. birdsong, bit like the 1812 re-orchestrated by Messiaen. ; dick: Dr Johnson . . . you too . . . I'm sorry ... i sam: You will be. Oh yes, you will be. it geoff: Ignore him. He's a bit down. The tunnel thingy, that's just^ an impression of the process of getting here. Quite a popular one, as in happens. I meant, what happened to start the process? ^

dick: / can't remember ... there was ... no, it's gone. | geoff: Not to worry. It generally takes a hit of time before memory] comes back. sam: Enjoy it while you can. It's when you start remembering that the pain starts. Oh God, here it comes. We may have left the stage but we still have the pantomime horse.

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