JК
Bag of Bones :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 143 из 425Distant as a radio transmission from deep space, cheerful and quacky as an animated duck, someguy with a fair amount of Brooklyn in his voice was singing: “He followed her to school one day, school one day, school one day. Followed her to school one day, which was against the rule…” I opened my mouth to ask who was there, but before I could, a woman’s voice said “Hello?” She sounded perplexed and doubtful.
“Mattie?” In my confusion it never occurred to me to call her something more formal, like Ms. or Mrs. Devore. Nor did it seem odd that I should know who it was, based on a single word, even though our only previous conversation had been relatively brief. Maybe the guys in the basement recognized the background music and made the connection to Kyra. “Mr. Noonan?” She sounded more bewildered than ever. “The phone never even rang!”
“I must have picked mine up just as your call was going through,” I said. “That happens from time to time.” But how many times, I wondered, did it happen when the person calling you was the one you yourself had been planning to call? Maybe quite often, actually.
Telepathy or coincidence? Live or Memorex? Either way, it seemed almost magical. I looked across the long, low living room, into the glassy eyes of Bunter the moose, and thought: I3s, but maybe this is a magic place now. “I suppose,” she said doubtfully. “I apologize about calling in the first place—it’s a presumption. Your number’s unlisted, I know.” Oh, don’t worry about that, I thought. Everyone’s got this old number by now. In fact, I’m thinking aboutputting it in the Illow Pages. “I got it from your file at the library,” she went on, sounding embarrassed.
“That’s where I work.” In the background, “Mary Had a Little Lamb” had given way to “The Farmer in the Dell.”
“It’s quite all right,” I said.
“Especially since you’re the person I was picking up the phone to call.”
“Me? Why?”
“Ladies first.” She gave a brief, nervous laugh. “I wanted to invite you to dinner. That is, Ki and I want to invite you to dinner. I should have done it before now. You were awfully good to us the other day. Will you come?”
“Yes,” I said with no hesitation at all. “With thanks. We’ve got some things to talk about, anyway.”
There was a pause. In the background, the mouse was taking the cheese.
As a kid I used to think all these things happened in a vast gray factory called The Hi-Ho Dairy-O. “Mattie? Still there?"
“He’s dragged you into it, hasn’t he? That awful old man.” Now her voice sounded not nervous but somehow dead.
“Mattie?” In my confusion it never occurred to me to call her something more formal, like Ms. or Mrs. Devore. Nor did it seem odd that I should know who it was, based on a single word, even though our only previous conversation had been relatively brief. Maybe the guys in the basement recognized the background music and made the connection to Kyra. “Mr. Noonan?” She sounded more bewildered than ever. “The phone never even rang!”
“I must have picked mine up just as your call was going through,” I said. “That happens from time to time.” But how many times, I wondered, did it happen when the person calling you was the one you yourself had been planning to call? Maybe quite often, actually.
Telepathy or coincidence? Live or Memorex? Either way, it seemed almost magical. I looked across the long, low living room, into the glassy eyes of Bunter the moose, and thought: I3s, but maybe this is a magic place now. “I suppose,” she said doubtfully. “I apologize about calling in the first place—it’s a presumption. Your number’s unlisted, I know.” Oh, don’t worry about that, I thought. Everyone’s got this old number by now. In fact, I’m thinking aboutputting it in the Illow Pages. “I got it from your file at the library,” she went on, sounding embarrassed.
“That’s where I work.” In the background, “Mary Had a Little Lamb” had given way to “The Farmer in the Dell.”
“It’s quite all right,” I said.
“Especially since you’re the person I was picking up the phone to call.”
“Me? Why?”
“Ladies first.” She gave a brief, nervous laugh. “I wanted to invite you to dinner. That is, Ki and I want to invite you to dinner. I should have done it before now. You were awfully good to us the other day. Will you come?”
“Yes,” I said with no hesitation at all. “With thanks. We’ve got some things to talk about, anyway.”
There was a pause. In the background, the mouse was taking the cheese.
As a kid I used to think all these things happened in a vast gray factory called The Hi-Ho Dairy-O. “Mattie? Still there?"
“He’s dragged you into it, hasn’t he? That awful old man.” Now her voice sounded not nervous but somehow dead.