Hotel Ambrose

Chapter 17.4

One morning I came out to find that all of Fred's flowers were dead. I got down and searched through them for some green, but there was nothing. I just sat down next to the garden and cried.

Then I pulled myself together. I went to the shed and got a pitchfork and a rake. I saw there was a broken shelf in the shed – nails and screws and shit had gone everywhere. The shelf had looked sturdy enough, and I thought I would have remembered breaking a shelf. But I didn't think too much about it. I'd been finding broken things around Ambrose for a while now. One of the panes of glass in the kitchen window had cracked, the H on the tap in the laundry had disappeared, and I'd found a couple of roof tiles lying in the grass near Alice's grave.

When I got back to the garden I pulled out the dead plants and pitchforked up the soil and raked it out smooth. Good. I got a stick and drew long lines in the soil like Fred had always done. Now all I needed was seeds. I'd have to go out into the city for those. It seemed a strange idea to go out to the city, but I had to have the seeds, so I went upstairs and packed my bag. I packed clothes in my bag, and Dirty Joe's book, and the straw horse. I think in the back of my mind I knew I wasn't coming back.

Finally, I went to Fred's room. I hadn't been in there since he died. Fred's clothes were still scattered all over the floor, and the windowsill was lined with rocks he'd found out in the grounds. Fred always loved his rocks. If he'd grown up I reckon he would've become a geologist – they're the people that dig up dinosaurs, in case you didn't know. The alarm clock was still on the shelf above his bed, and I put that in my bag too. But I couldn't bring myself to take anything else.

I stopped at the office on the way out and grabbed the big wad of cash we kept in the desk – all the money we'd saved over the years. Sophie hadn't taken any of it when she left. I noticed that the desk had fallen over in the night: two of its legs had collapsed completely. I wondered why I hadn't heard it fall down. It was a big heavy old desk – it would have made one hell of a crash.

I looked up at the portrait of James Ambrose for a moment. Then I turned around and left the office.

When I got out onto the street there was nobody around. I tried to get the attention of the Cripple and his Dogs, but they ignored me as usual. I stood there listening to them for a while. Then I went off into the city. The crooning of the dogs got quieter and quieter. Then it was gone.