"Christopher Priest - The Glamour" - читать интересную книгу автора (Priest Christopher)

Marianne Leconte
Stuart Andrews
Alan Jonas


All characters in this book are fictional and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 0-385-19761-6



To Lisa




THE GLAMOUR




Part I


I have been trying to remember where it began, thinking about my early
childhood and wondering if anything might have happened that made me become
what I am. I had never thought much about it before, because on the whole I
was happy. I think the reason for this was that I was protected from knowing
what was really going on. My mother died when I was only three, but even this
was a blow that was softened; her illness was a long one, and by the time she
actually died I was used to spending most of my time with the hired nurse.
What I remember best was something I enjoyed. When I was eight I was
sent home from school with a letter from the medical office. A viral infection
had been attacking many of the children at the school, and after we had all
been screened it was discovered or decided that I was the carrier. I was
placed in home quarantine, and was not allowed to mix with other children
until I ceased to be a carrier. The outcome was that I was eventually admitted
to a private hospital, and my two perfectly good tonsils were efficiently
removed. I returned to school shortly after my ninth birthday.
The period of quarantine had lasted nearly six months, coinciding with
the best part of a long hot summer. I was on my own for most of this time, and
although at first I felt lonely and isolated I quickly adapted. I discovered
the pleasures of solitude. I read a huge number of books, went for long walks
in the countryside around the house, and noticed wildlife for the first time.
My father bought me a simple camera, and I began to study birds and flowers
and trees, preferring their company to that of my friends. I constructed a
secret den in the garden, and sat in it for hours with my books or
photographs, fantasizing and dreaming. I built a cart with the wheels of an
old pram and skittered around the country paths and hills, happier than I had
ever been before. It was a contented, uncomplicated time, one in which I built