The Night Ferry by Michael Robotham EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Michael Robotham
- Genre: Psychological Fiction, Family Life Fiction
- Publish Date: July 14, 2015
- Size: 1 MB
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Avail for Download
- Price: Free
When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke
into a thousand pieces and they al went skipping about, and
that was the beginning of fairies.
—SIR JAMES BARRIE,
Peter Pan
It was Graham Greene who said a story has no beginning or
end. The author simply chooses a moment, an arbitrary point,
and looks either forward or back. That moment is now—an
October morning—when the clang of a metal ic letter flap
heralds the first post.
There is an envelope on the mat inside my front door. Inside is
a smal stiff rectangle of paper that says nothing and
everything.
Dear Ali,
I’m in trouble. I must see you. Please come to the reunion.
Love, Cate
Sixteen words. Long enough to be a suicide note. Short
enough to end an affair. I don’t know why Cate has written to
me now. She hates me. She told me so the last time we spoke,
eight years ago. The past. Given long enough I could tel you
the month, the day and the hour but these details are
unimportant.
Al you need to know is the year—1998. It should have been
the summer we finished university; the summer we went
backpacking across Europe; the summer I lost my virginity to
Brian Rusconi and not to Cate’s father. Instead it was the
summer she went away and the summer I left home—a
summer not big enough for everything that happened.
Now she wants to see me again. Sometimes you know when a
story begins…
When the day comes that I am asked to recalibrate the
calendar, I am going to lop a week off January and February
and add them to October, which deserves to be forty days
long, maybe more.
I love this time of year. The tourists have long gone and the
kids are back at school. The TV schedules aren’t ful of reruns
and I can sleep under a duvet again. Mostly I love the sparkle
in the air, without the pol en from the plane trees so I can open
my lungs and run freely.
I run every morning—three circuits of Victoria Park in Bethnal
Green, each one of them more than a mile. Right now I’m just
passing Durward Street in Whitechapel. Jack the Ripper
territory. I once took a Ripper walking tour, a pub crawl with
ghost stories. The victim I remember best was his last one,
Mary Kel y, who died on the same date as my birthday,
November the ninth.
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