but her life won't get any better. Shulman was not ready to die now, wanting to carry out great plans. He wanted to show the girl the whole world, especially France, which had sunk into his soul after the war. He wanted to show her every corner, every street. She would have shared his pain and suffering. Thomas knew that it was bad business to get involved with the mafia, and the Russian mafia was bad business. Yes, he knew the language, Yes, he knew the manners and procedures, but all this would not become a sheet of steel from a bullet-a fool who could leave a neat hole in the middle of his forehead. He was only hurrying Lily because he was nervous, trying to relieve the tension, because he was tired of the usual caresses and completely fed up. His concern, of course, was not empty, as it often was. His sixth sense did not fail him. The same excitement and nausea combined with a headache were a harbinger of injury during the war, a harbinger of lung burns from toxic substances during the battle, a harbinger of a knife stuck in the leg while playing with other children in the yard. She kissed his pursed lips, distracting him from his thoughts.
«Tommy, are you offended?»»
The man shook his head:
«No, I still love you very much, don't I? And I appreciate and respect your decision,» he said, burying his face in the girl's cheek and stroking her shoulders as if cradling her in broad daylight for a quiet hour.
Tom gathered up his things, putting clean shirts in his bag.
«When will you be back?» Lily asked, drawing Letters in the air with her foot. It's Lily who's doing well. Insouciance and the absence of any creepy adult problems. She was in no hurry to grow up, which was great, because she made Shulman feel like a child, too.
«Friday night, early Saturday morning deadline,» he kissed her feet like a submissive as he continued to pack, «I'll call you in the morning and evening when I get to Glasgow. Tell me how you went to the doctor and how your father built you a Golden monument that will be created exclusively by virgins like you,» he finished, zipping up her leather bag and carefully putting the gun in the bottom.
«What a bore you are, Thomas!» she said, getting out of bed to see him off.
«Isaac will pick you up tomorrow morning, right?»
She shook her head.
«No, I won't sleep in your house without you, like some widow.»
Thomas kissed her on the lips and on the top of her head, holding her close, trying to keep his legs from trembling.
«Then from Friday to Saturday, warm the bed, okay?» he asked, lifting his mouth from hers, stroking her rosy cheek and hearing only a soft «Yes».
Part XIII
A cold, rainy night hung over the city, unconsciously mourning Thomas and lulling Lily to sleep. Dank raindrops pattered against the window, and the poor branches cracked, sending a low howl through the house. The bedroom was clean and elegant, with light Wallpaper with tiny flowers, and the cold light from the street lamp illuminated it. The last logs were burning in the small fireplace, warming them with a light warmth. The girl was sleeping soundly, having thrown off a large blanket, revealing a beautiful body dressed in a thin nightgown. Lily was expecting Tom on Friday night, and she didn't have all day to call.
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