Page 80 of The Society of Unknowable Objects
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Magda walked through the rain to Bell Street Books, her yellow raincoat as bright as a flare against the grey day. She endured the sting of the air on her windburnt cheeks and the ache in her legs and hips, as these were just symptoms of everything that was wrong with the world, everything that was broken. She clung desperately to the belief that things would make sense again if she could just speak to Frank.
When she reached Bell Street the door to the shop was locked, and she didn’t have the keys with her. She peered in through the window, cupping her hands around her face, but the shop was quiet, no sign ofFrank. She pressed the buzzer, which connected to Frank’s apartment above, holding it until she received an answer.
“Yes?” the voice was curt, annoyed, and distinctly not Frank’s.
“Who’s this?” Magda asked. “I’m here to see Frank. Let me in.”
“Who am I speaking to?” the voice replied.
Recognition clicked. “Will?” she asked. “It’s Magda. Let me in!”
“Hold on.”
Will Pinn emerged through the gloom at the back of the shop a minute later. He was dressed more informally than she had ever seen him, in a grey V-neck pullover and brown corduroy trousers, shirt collar open at his neck, and as he unlocked the door and let Magda enter, she thought he looked tired
“How’s Frank?” she asked, pulling down her hood as Will locked the door again.
Will faced her and his mouth fell open at the sight of her windburnt skin. “What happened to your face?”
She shook her head, feeling that she didn’t have time to explain. “How’s Frank? I need to speak to him.”
“He’s upstairs. He’s okay. Weak. Tired.”
“Why are you here, Will?” Magda asked. “You’re the last person I expected to see.”
Will pursed his lips, eyes dropping to the floor between them. “Best we talk upstairs,” he mumbled. “Come on.”
Frank was in the sitting room, stretched out on the couch with a thin blanket over his legs. The room was warm to the point of being stuffy, like the heating had been turned up high, and Magda felt it immediately grip the raw skin of her face. The table lamps were doing their best to ward off the grey afternoon as the wind scattered handfuls of drizzle against the windows. Magda could smell recently brewed coffee in the air and saw two cups on the table.
Why is Will here? Why has he been looking after Frank?
Frank opened tired eyes and a genuine smile stretched across his face. “Sparks!” he croaked, reaching for her. She perched on the edge of the sofa and hugged the old man awkwardly, holding his hand and feeling fingers that were cold and stiff.
“How are you, Frank?” she asked, peering at him. He looked no better than when she had seen him in the hospital, and if anything, seeing him in his own home seemed to magnify his obvious frailty.
Frank smiled, but his eyes closed again. “Never been better,” he said. “Enjoying Will’s fine company.”
Will was leaning against the wall by the door, looking to Magda even more unhappy with the world than usual.
“I need to talk to you, Frank,” she said, but even as the words left her lips Magda wondered if it was the right time. She worried that he was too weak, that the things she would tell him would make him worse.
“Good,” Frank said. “I like to talk. Much better than not talking. Will over there seems to prefer not talking.”
“I’ve been trying to talk all day, Frank,” Will replied. “Just not about the things you want to discuss.”
Magda asked a question of Will with her eyes, but before he could answer Frank spoke again. “Why don’t you make us all some more coffee, or tea, or whatever, Will,” he suggested. “And we can have some biscuits for strength. Assuming they are not too cheap for you.”
Will rolled his eyes pointedly at Magda—do you see what I have to put upwith?—and Magda tried to thank him with a smile.
As Will plodded into the kitchen Magda moved over to the armchair next to Frank. She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip as she tried to work out where to start and what to say.
“What is it, Sparks?” Frank asked, opening his eyes to fix her with a serious look. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Everything,” Magda said. “I need to tell you everything that has happened. And then you need to help me. Because I don’t understand it.”
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