'We'd better take a look at your arm,' she said, and led the way up the steps to her house. He followed, docile.
As she opened the front door she found Neil in the hall leaning his back against the wall and looking with grim pointedness at a Coca-Cola vending machine standing against the opposite wall and taking up an inordinate amount of space in the hallway.
'I don't know what we're going to do about this, I really don't,' he said.
'What's it doing there?' asked Kate.
'Well, that's what I'm asking you, I'm afraid,' said Neil. 'I don't know how you're going to get it up the stairs. Don't see how it can be done to be perfectly frank with you. And let's face it, I don't think you're going to like it once you've got it up there. I know it's very modern and American, but think about it, you've got that nice French cherrywood table, that sofa which will be very nice once you've taken off that dreadful Collier Campbell covering like I keep on saying you should, only you won't listen, and I just don't see that it's going to fit in, not in either sense. And I'm not even sure that I should allow it, I mean it's a very heavy object and you know what I've said to you about the floors in this house. I'd think again, I really would, you know.'
'Yes, Neil, how did it get here?'
'Well, your friend here delivered it just an hour or so ago. I don't know where he's been working out, but I must say I wouldn't mind paying his gym a visit. I said I thought the whole thing was very doubtful but he would insist and in the end I even had to give him a hand. But I must say that I think we need to have a very serious think about the whole topic. I asked your friend if he liked Wagner but he didn't respond very well. So, I don't know, what do you want to do about it?'
Kate took a deep breath. She suggested to her huge guest that he carry on upstairs and she would see him in just a moment. Thor lumbered past, and was an absurd figure mounting the stairs.
Neil watched Kate's eyes very closely for a clue as to what, exactly, was going on, but Kate was as blank as she knew how.
'I'm sorry, Neil,' she said, matter-of-factly. 'The Coke machine will go. It's all a misunderstanding. I'll get this sorted out by tomorrow.'
'Yes, that's all very well,' said Neil, 'but where does all this leave me? I mean, you see my problem.'
'No, Neil, I don't.'
'Well, I've got this...thing out here, you've got that...person upstairs, and the whole thing is just a total disruption.'
'Is there anything I can do to make anything any better?'
'Well it's not as easy as that, is it? I mean, I think you should just think about it a bit, that's all. I mean, all this. You told me you were going away. I heard the bath running this afternoon. What was I to think? And after you had gone on about the cat, and you know I won't work with cats.'
'I know; Neil. That's why I asked Mrs Grey next door to look after her.'
'Yes, and look what happened to her. Died of a heart attack. Mr Grey's very upset, you know.'
'I don't think it had anything to do with me asking her if she would look after my cat.'
'Well, all I can say is that he's very upset.'
'Yes, Neil. His wife's died.'
'Well, I'm not saying anything. I'm just saying I think you should think about it. And what on earth are we going to do about all this?' he added, re-addressing his attention to the Coca-Cola machine.
'I've said that I will make sure it's gone in the morning Neil,' said Kate. 'I'm quite happy to stand here and scream very loudly if you think it will help in any way, but - '
'Listen, love, I'm only making the point. And I hope you're not going to be making a lot of noise up there because I've got to practise my music tonight, and you know that I need quiet to concentrate.' He gave Kate a meaningful look over the top of his glasses and disappeared into his flat.
Kate stood and silently counted as much of one to ten as she could currently remember and then headed staunchly up the stairs in the wake of the God of Thunder, feeling that she was not in a mood for either weather or theology. The house began to throb and shake to the sound of the main theme of The Ride of the Valkyries being played on a Fender Precision bass.
Chapter 17
As Dirk edged his way along the Euston Road, caught in the middle of a rush hour traffic jam that had started in the late nineteen seventies and which, at a quarter to ten on this Thursday evening, still showed no signs of abating, he thought he caught sight of something he recognised.
It was his subconscious which told him this - that infuriating part of a person's brain which never responds to interrogation merely gives little meaningful nudges and then sits humming quietly to itself, saying nothing.
'Well of course I've just seen something I recognise,' Dirk muttered mentally to his subconscious. 'I drive along this benighted thoroughfare twenty times a month. I expect I recognise every single matchstick lying in the gutter. Can't you be a little more specific?' His subconscious would not be hectored though, and was dumb. It had nothing further to add. The city was probably full of grey vans anyway. Very unremarkable.
'Where?' muttered Dirk to himself fiercely, twisting round in his seat this way and that. 'Where did I see a grey van?'
Nothing.
