A Cleansing of Souls by Stuart Ayris Page B

a clattering pile of dry bones…the lift pulls Tom upwards now and he is standing by his desk. His co-workers are all around him but they see him not. Tom looks up to the ceiling and sees a map of the world suspended from a thick wire. A piece of the map is missing and Tom knows instinctively that he must search for it. He puts his hand in his pocket and his fingers close around a perfect cardboard heart…
     
    …the lift doors open and there stands Michael. Tom feels at once reassured. He feels safe. The two men smile at one another. Tom moves out of the lift and into the next office. Michael remains in the lift and rises to a higher level…
     
    … now Tom is at home, at the top of the stairs. He opens the door to the bathroom and sees a hundred washbasins. A silver watch is wrapped around the hot tap. He takes it and turns it over in his palm expecting to see a name but there is no inscription…the door to his parents’ room is open and they are making love, his mother smiling from below the aching body of his father who in turn is gazing at the wooden headboard in raptures…
     
    …Tom opens the door to Little Norman’s room and finds himself back in the lift. On the floor is a foil star on a stick. He looks at it and a tear slips from his eye…
     
    …the huge walkway on which he now finds himself is covered in a red carpet. It forms a square all around the edge of the large room. And across the deep gap, from one side to the other, is a glass bridge. You don’t know how deep is the drop below until you fall. Michael is on the bridge now, walking to the other side. In the wall to which he is heading, there are two doors, one to the left and one to the right. As he approaches the end of the bridge, a voice booms out from above “Left! Left!” So Michael walks to the door on the left and the man dressed as a butler steps from the shadows and shoots him dead between the eyes…
     
    …Tom is on the glass bridge now. He feels sick. But he knows what to do. If the voice instructs him to go to the door on the left, he will choose the door on the right. If the voice tells him to go to the door on the right, he will enter the door on the left. And the voice roars “Right! Left! Right! Left!” leaving him just to stand there in terror as the glass bridge shatters beneath his feet…
     
    And that was when he awoke from the dream. He was cold and damp and he shivered in that alleyway until morning.
     
     
    Late in the afternoon, Ron arrived at the restaurant where he had arranged to meet Roger Peacock. Roger had been unable to cut short his working day and met with Ron just after six o’clock He had been at the table for almost ten minutes before Ron arrived. His genial nature, however, ensured that his guest and long-term associate was greeted with a due cordiality.
     
    “Ronald,” he said, standing, “you’re looking great.”
     
    “You too, Roger,” replied Ron, as they shook hands firmly and sat down.
     
    The two men ordered their meals and sipped red wine as they waited for the arrival of the first course.
     
    Roger was a lean man with a tanned face and a wiry frame. His dark hair was speckled with grey and white though his eyes still managed to achieve a boyish brightness. He had a passion for boats and the considerable ability to differentiate work from play.
     
    “You look like you had a good holiday, Roger,” said Ron, replenishing their swiftly drained glasses. “Where did you go?”
     
    “Italy. Joan and I have been nipping back and forth there for the last couple of years. Wonderful place. The Italians may have their faults, and God knows they have, but when it comes to wine, women and song, there’s none better.”
     
    “How is Joan? Still doing her painting? It was painting, wasn’t it?”
     
    Roger laughed.
     
    “Yes, yes, Joan and her paintings. Our house has turned into a bloody canvass warehouse. You can’t move for paintings. Don’t get me wrong, though,” he added,