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Authors: Jonathan Coe

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Darkness was falling as she emerged, twenty minutes later, into the evening air. Cleo had bought an A-Z that afternoon, and committed the route to memory; as for the final stretch, Ruby’s directions, although minimal, proved perfectly adequate. She left the main road behind, and after walking for perhaps half a mile, found herself turning into what surely had to be the quietest street in the whole of London. There was no music, no party noise, no voices coming from any of the gardens. Not even a television turned up loud. Cleo’s footsteps seemed to be making the only sound in the world.

She stopped outside Sarah’s house. Although it was still not quite dark, the curtains were fully drawn, with just a chink of light gleaming at the edges. Cleo pushed open the little wrought-iron gate, which squeaked plangently, and walked up to the front door. She paused, smoothed down her skirt, and adjusted her handbag, shifting its weight on her shoulder. Then she lifted the door knocker, and knocked twice.

A light came on in the hallway. Seconds later the door was opened, and there she was: alone, older, looking a little tired, a little sleepy; a little apprehensive, perhaps, to be opening the door to a stranger at this hour. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and her hair was now completely and wonderfully grey, and the moment she saw her, Cleo knew that she had been lying to herself; knew that she could not do without this woman at all. It wasn’t possible, and never had been.

‘Sarah?’

It was all she could manage to say, at first. Sarah stared back at her, not recognizing, not yet guessing.

‘Do I know you?’

‘Of course you do,’ she said. ‘It’s me: Robert.’

APPENDIX 1: Poem

Somniloquy

Your gravity, your grace have turned a tide

In me, no lunar power can reverse;

But in your narcoleptic eyes I spied

A sightlessness tonight: or something worse,

A disregard that made me feel unmanned.

Meanwhile, insomniac, I catch my breath

To think I saw my future traced in sand

One afternoon ‘as still, as carved, as death’,

And pray for an oblivion so deep

It ends in transformation. Only dawn

Can save me, flood this haunted house of sleep

With light, and drown the ghosts that nightly warn:

Another lifetime is the least you’ll need, to trace

The guarded secrets of her gravity, her grace.

APPENDIX 2: Letter

From
: Pamela Worth

To
:       Professor Marcus Cole, FRC Psych.

Dear Professor Cole,

Just a short letter, I’m afraid, to thank you for taking the trouble to write to us last week.

Your kind words were very much appreciated. In a situation like this, the sympathy of friends and well-wishers starts to mean everything. It’s all that we have, in a way. And you can rest assured that, as far as we’re concerned, no blame attaches to you in this matter. Over the last few weeks we have often found ourselves looking for people to blame – individuals, the government, the ‘system’, whatever – but really there is no one. That’s what’s so unbearable about it.

We visit Terry every day. There is, as you say, no improvement, and no real prospect of improvement, it seems. But we shall be patient. He looks very peaceful, and rested. You probably don’t know this (why should you?), but my son has had a lot of trouble sleeping over the last few years. Of course I never said anything to him about it, but it did worry me, and when I see him now, I sometimes try to tell myself that he is just catching up on his sleep. The doctors tell me I’m imagining it, but once or twice I’ve thought that I can see a tiny smile on his face, and then I wonder if perhaps he is having pleasant dreams.

You will probably think that these are just silly fantasies: but we all have to find our way of coping, somehow, and I am doing my best.

Yours very sincerely,
Pamela Worth

APPENDIX 3: Transcript

Patient
: Ruby Sharp

Date
: 28.6.96

Time
: 02.36–02.40

Technician
: Lorna

never quiet never quiet this house I remember that years ago always the waves never quiet sitting upstairs with her sitting with you I remember I was listening remember it all the beach the day at the beach the things you said no limits you said no limits do anything anything to earn her and the scars I remember the scars on your legs two scars like like French quotation marks then I saw last week I saw on the beach another beach another beach the same person another person the same body on your ankles the two scars I know you who you are but listen listen know her too London now where she lives what she does alone all alone you must go must find her I know have known always since the beach together be together I felt it happy so happy that day remember it all never so happy always wanted always somehow repay you both sandman what I called you sandman you made castle beautiful castle away swept away not lost not lost yet nothing lost yet not if you find her go now she is waiting London easy to find empty house cold house she lives alone North London quiet streets you turn in turn in from station first house first you see don’t wait hurry go now find the road remember remember the name Fermer Road Fermer she does want you find her please go to her now

1.
Popular British music-hall comedians, on stage together from 1931 onwards, and later members of the Crazy Gang.

2.
Sim (1900-76) went on to star in such later hits as
Green for Danger
(1946),
The Happiest Days of Your Life
(1950) and, perhaps most famously, many films in the
St Trinian’s
series.

3.
A placid, respectable Thameside suburb of London, just south of Richmond.

4.
Much praised, recently, by Denis Thatcher, who said they had given him ‘six of the most enjoyable hours of my life’. His wife Margaret later joked that he was ‘stiff for hours afterwards’.

5.
Their titles, for the record, were Wet Knickers, Pussy Talk and Cream on my Face.

6.
The books in question are believed to have included the Confessions of St Augustine and Revelations of Divine Love by Julian of Norwich.

7.
He later developed a distinctive public persona, based largely on his self-confessed drinking habits and enormous sexual appetite.

8.
An incident which later became the basis of one of Norman Wisdom’s less successful comedies, The Candy-Shop Man.

9.
The other two, thankfully, were later found tucked up in bed together at Jack Logan’s house in Esher.

10.
Believed to be a reference to the then Prime Minister, Edward Heath.

11.
The origins of this particular joke remain obscure, despite our best endeavours.

12.
Loyal supporter of, and propagandist for, the Conservative Party, whose novels, however, are not regarded with much seriousness in literary circles.

13.
‘Extremely well-hung’ was Amis’s only recorded verdict on this occasion.

14.
They had met for the first time only a few weeks earlier, to discuss their shared enthusiasm for Jamaican cigars and eighteenth-century erotic drawings.

15.
Durable singer of uplifting ballads who has, for as long as most of us can remember, been regarded as one of the undisputed queens of British popular music.

16.
Performer of such hits as Congratulations and Devil Woman, whose film roles have so far been confined to minor youth musicals (Summer Holiday, Wonderful Life, etc.)

Table of Contents

Cover

About The Author

Title Page

Copyright Page

Contents

Author’s note

THE HOUSE OF SLEEP

Awake
1
2
3
Stage One
4
5
6
Stage Two
7
8
9
Stage Three
10
11
12
Stage Four
13
14
15
REM Sleep
16
17
18

APPENDIX 1: Poem

APPENDIX 2: Letter

APPENDIX 3: Transcript

Footnotes

Page 270
BOOK: The House of Sleep
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