The Sea
Claire was waiting by the car, shoulders hunched, using the sleeves of her coat for a muff. ‘You should have asked me for the key,’ I said. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t give it to you?’ On the way home she insisted on taking the wheel, despite my vigorous resistance. It...
Night Boat To Tangier
You know what I get to wondering, Maurice? Tell me, Charlie. About death, Moss. Here we go. Is it as raw a deal as they make it out to be? Come again? Is it not in some way an ease when she comes calling? The Black Angel? . . . Hush now . . . Listen? . . . The gentle...
The Night
You are a child in a small town. You are, to be exact, eight years old, and it is growing late at night. Late for you, accustomed to bedding in at nine or nine-thirty: once in a while perhaps begging Mom or Dad to let you stay up later to hear Sam and Henry on that...