"Энди Макнаб. Последний свет (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

preparations, or sometimes I just forgot.
Josh was right to fuck me off when I did get through: she did need a
routine and stability. I could see his half-Mexican, half-black shaved head,
scowling at me on the phone like a divorced wife. The skin on his jaw and
cheekbone was a patchwork of pink, like a torn sponge that had been badly
sewn back together.
The scarring was down to me, which didn't help the situation much. He
wouldn't be getting too many modelling offers from Old Spice, that was for
sure. I tried to break the ice with him once by telling him. He didn't
exactly fall about with laughter.
I turned my head and rested my cheek on my hands, watching Trainers
suck on the last of his roll-up. I supposed I'd always known the day would
come, sooner or later, but I didn't want this to be it. Stuff flashed
through my mind as if I was a split second away from a massive car crash,
all the sorts of things that must hit any parent when they know they're
about to die. The stupid argument with the kids before leaving for work. Not
building that tree-house. Not getting round to filling out a will. The
holidays not taken, the promises broken.
Josh was the only person apart from Kelly I cared for and who was still
alive.
Would he miss me? He'd just be pissed off that we had unfinished
business. And what about Kelly herself? She had a new start now would she
just forget all about her useless, incompetent guardian in a few years?


SEVEN

Monday 4 September Sundance's StarT ac short, sharp tones cut the air
after a long, painful night.
It was just after eight. I didn't bother to move from the prone
position because of my kicking, but tried instead to convince myself that
the pain was just weakness leaving the body, something like that.
Trainers jumped up to turn off the BBC breakfast news, showing the
embankment, as Sundance opened up his phone. He knew who it was. There was
no preliminary waffle, just nods and grunts.
Trainers hit the kettle button as the StarT ac was closed down and
Sundance rolled himself off the settee. He gave me a big grin as he brushed
back his hair with spread fingers.
"You have a visitor, and dye know what? He doesn't sound too pleased."
It was the witching hour.
I sat up and leant into the corner of the brick walls as they pulled
the armchairs apart and put their shirts on while waiting for the kettle to
boil.
It wasn't long before I heard a vehicle and Trainers went out to open
the shutter. Sundance just stood there staring at me, trying to get me
flapping.
The kettle cut out with a click just before the shutter opened; it
looked like their brew was on hold for a while. I pulled myself up against
the wall.
The slamming of car doors drowned out the sound of Kennington's morning