In the Shadow of Satellites Read Online Free Page A

I needed one. It should be comforting, but it still hurts. I wonder if Chris has that same feeling I do, of James being missing from all of this. Like everyone else who knew him, he had a five-month head-start over me, on dealing with his grief. While I lay in a coma, everyone else went to the funerals and got on with their lives.
    I don’t want to think about that now, so I make a concerted effort to keep up with the conversation. Chris sits between us, his tanned legs glistening with blonde fuzz in the sunshine.
    “So, tell me about this mysterious neighbour of yours,” he says. “What’s his name? Thor?”
    I glance over at him, and he looks so relaxed, it’s impossible, in that moment, to imagine him as anything else.
    “Get it? Thor? The hammer thing?”
    He waggles his eyebrows at me.
    “I so haven’t missed that dumb sense of humour,” Ana says dryly.
    I can’t help the smile that creeps out.
    “I’ve no idea. We haven’t actually met yet.”
    “How long’s he been here?”
    “A couple of months.”
    “He’s quite hot,” Ana says, leaning forward to glance over at me. “Especially with that beard. What is it with men and beards lately? Is it like a fashion thing or something?”
    “Well, thanks. I’m guessing that was your back-handed way of telling me you also think I’m hot, because y’know, the beard thing. It’s weird, how beards turn women on. Especially in Europe. They seem to love them there. Maybe it’s the way they tickle their – “
    She reaches over to smack him hard, with her open hand on his bare leg. The noise is deafening and he yelps while I struggle to hold back a smile.
    “That fuckin’ hurt!” he moans, rubbing his thigh vigorously.
    “Good. And no, for the record, I wasn’t including you in that general statement, you hairy big-headed man-whore.”
    She chuckles, which softens the blow a little, at least to his ego.
    “I mean it, though. Is it a fashion statement or what?” she says, looking over at me, as if I’m supposed to answer that.
    “I have no idea. What do I know about fashion these days?”
    It’s true. I don’t even have a TV. The world could be ending for all I know.
    “It’s probably just a pain in the ass to shave when he’s living in a tent and doesn’t have running water,” Chris says.
    She leans back and takes another sip of wine as we survey the lake in front of us. It’s late afternoon, but the sun is still hours from setting. After a temporary reprieve, the hammering starts up in the distance again.
    “Right on cue,” Chris said. “Has it been like that since he arrived, with the noise I mean?”
    “Yeah, off and on. I don’t really notice it much anymore, to be honest.”
    “So he hasn’t been over to introduce himself? Or at least apologise for the incessant racket?”
    “No, but that’s okay. I haven’t exactly beaten a path to his door, either.”
    I don’t imagine that Chris would understand the value of having privacy out here. Where I usually shied away from company, he sought it out. Another thing that he and Ana had in common.
    “Tsk-tsk,” he says, shaking his head. “Bit shabby, if you ask me. Neighbours in close proximity like you guys should be on first name terms. Unless he’s an axe murderer. Shit – do you think he’s an axe murderer?”
    “Relax,” I smile. “If he was an axe murderer, I’d probably already be dead by now.”
    He swaps a look with Ana, and then sculls the last of his beer, standing up.
    “This kind of shit is normal for Wellington – or London, or any other city, to be fair – but not here.”
    He disappears into the cottage, reappearing a moment later with two fresh bottles of beer.
    “You should know your neighbours. You’re both on your own out here, in the middle of nowhere – sort of. It’s a rural thing isn’t it? It’s just being neighbourly, or neighbourhood watch, or whatever the hell it’s called. It makes sense.”
    He’s backing away from us as he’s