Saturday's weather is forecast to be 'sunny', the radio assures him, but he'd almost rather have the threat of rain tomorrow for the sake of the insulation of clouds tonight. The clear sky with its glittering stars - still occasionally lit by the bright flare of fireworks - was beautiful enough, certainly, but he'd had his chin tucked deeply into
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Comments 26
The quiet groans of the heating aside, it's quiet - quiet enough that there's not much to distract from the newsprint, unimpeachable and dispassionate in implacable columns of black and white.
London's never truly silent, though, and least of all in a district such as this. There's at least one distant strain of music to be heard, perhaps two - though truthfully, with the kind that gets played on a Friday night, it can be hard to tell. It's overlaid in any case by the muffled chatter of pedestrians passing by the dusty shop window, and the muted hum of motorists, navigating the narrow Soho streets, is punctuated by the solid and occasional sounds of car doors, opening and closing.
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His eyes keep being drawn back to the newsprint.
- Iraqi army has cancelled all leave and put troops on alert ahead of the verdict expected on Sunday in the trial of former leader Saddam Hussein.
Defence lawyers have warned of violence if he is sentenced to death.
If he'd read this before he'd - he certainly wouldn't have left Crowley alone. And if he can't find an unoccupied taxi to get him to Mayfair at this time of night he'll layer up in jumpers and walk it - just as soon as he's done reading.
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- 56 bodies between Thursday and Friday mornings is the biggest in 24 hours since the Muslim holy month of Ramadan ended.
Another 27 were found during -
And the spaces between them.
There's nothing funny in the thought of just how many spaces there are, how many numbers are missing, but another high-pitched peal of laughter rings out, and then another.
Except that last one isn't one at all, but the brassy tinkle of the bell over the shop door.
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He doesn't hear the bell.
Or perhaps he does, but tucks it away somewhere in a neglected corner of his mind along with half-remembered incongruous details from dreams and other impossibilities.
He's overtired, quite possibly, and he most certainly remembers locking the door behind him - remembers hooking the letterbox closed, too, because there's really no such thing as 'too careful' when it comes to firework night. And he's aware that he's more than willing to be distracted - positively eager - so he doesn't, quite, hear the bell.
The paper rustles as he tucks the covers a little more securely around himself and turns to the inside pages, goes back to reading.
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