"Night Warriors - 01 - Night Warriors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Masterton Graham)

'Oh, Grandma, I can't keep everything immaculate, the way that you do.'

'It's a state of mind,' her grandmother told her. 'If your mind is tidy, then your house is tidy. Goodness knows what Daffy thinks of you.'

'Daffy thinks I'm very neat. You should see her room. World War Eight isn't in it.'

Her grandmother hovered by the doorway. Susan could tell that she was torn between going back to her vacuum-cleaning and broaching the subject of Gil Miller. She went over to the icebox and poured herself a large glass of Mountain Spring water, topping it up with ice cubes. She drank almost the whole glass without once taking a breath.

'That boy,' said her grandmother, 'you won't be seeing him again, will you?'

'Is there any reason why I shouldn't?'

'Well, what will Carl say?'

'Grandma, it's none of Carl's goddamned business.'

'Suzie,' put in her grandfather, taking off his half-glasses. 'In this house, we don't use words like that.'

'Well, it's none of Carl's blank-censored business, then. Grandma, we're not even dating.'

' You should. He' s a very well-mannered person.'

'I know, but I happen not to like him. And anyway, he's not Irish, he's Armenian.'

' His mother is half Irish.'

Susan closed her eyes and leaned against the icebox and her grandmother knew that there wasn't any point in nagging any more. Her grandfather shrugged and smiled. 'She'll find somebody nice, don't worry about it. The whole planet is wall to wall with eligible men.'

'It's these boys from the beach, that's all,' Susan's grandmother complained. 'These surfers. One day, some surfer is going to make her pregnant, and then what? It's a responsibility, bringing up your own daughter's child. Sometimes I think it's too much.'

Susan opened her eyes. 'Grandma,' she said, 'I am not going to get pregnant by any surfer.'

Her grandmother shook her head, and went off to finish her vacuum-cleaning. Every morning, she vacuum-cleaned for at least two hours, and watched the television at the same time. Those were her two principal obsessions in life: cleaning the house and watching TV. She thought it was mandatory that her house should sparkle like the houses in the Lemon-Kleen commercials, and that she should live her life according to the gospel of Richard Simmons. She had once appeared on The Price Is Right and won three hundred dollars and a lawn-sprinkler. That was six years ago, and she still talked about it.

Susan's grandfather held out his hand, and hooked his arm around Susan's waist.

'You'll find somebody, you wait and see. You're young yet, you haven't even finished your education.'

'Grandpa, I'm not actually panicking to get married,' Susan told him. Unannounced, unwanted, a vision of the dead girl on the beach suddenly flashed in front of her eyes. White breasts, coated in grit. Squirming eels. She pulled herself away from her grandfather, went to the sink to rinse out her glass, and stood there for a moment to steady herself.

'You all right?' her grandfather asked her.

'Sure, I'm all right.'

'You look like you're upset. Your mother used to look like that, when she was upset. Kind of chalky, know what I mean? Wasn't anything to do with that boy, was it?'

'It's not morning-sickness, if that's what you're trying to suggest.'

'Well, I wasn't,' said her grandfather, offended.