“Nope.”
He eyes Dr Tem-Pest warily, like the man is playing a trick on him.
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
The daytime scene blends into night, and I now see Fortunato with his jacket off, his white shirt straining against his angular back as he pulls books from the shelves, gently liftingthem away and placing them back with care, the dull noise resounding around us both.
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
He picks up his pace, a damp patch appearing between his shoulder blades as he pulls books carelessly from the shelves, letting them drop to the floor as he mutters under his breath.
“Where the hell is that noise coming from, and why won’t it stop?”
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
The scene cuts away and is seamlessly replaced with Fortunato now standing in his basement, pulling out bottles of wine that line the walls of a purpose-built unit. The grey hair at the nape of his neck rides up against his collar, his face frantic, his top button undone, no smart tie to hold him together.
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
“Adolphe?” A female voice travels down into the basement. “Adolphe, are you still down there?”
“Yes, yes. I’m here,” Fortunato answers, but there’s a shake in his voice, a quiver that isn’t unlike the strings being played by a nervous violinist.
“You only went down to choose a bottle of wine. You’ve been ages. What are you doing?”
“Just getting the right wine.” He presses his hand to his forehead, dabbing away some of the sweat that has accumulated.
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
“Well, the food will be ruined if you don’t choose quickly. Just grab a bottle and come back up.”
Taking a deep breath, he grabs a bottle from the shelf, but not before running his eyes up and down the walls.
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
There’s a flicker across the surface of the mirror as the scene vanishes and is replaced with Fortunato sitting in a chair in what appears to be a formal sitting room covered with garishwallpaper and adorned with ornate vases with oversized dried flowers. He’s with Dr Tem-Pest, who looks crisp and clean in a navy suit, his dark skin making the blue look even more striking. Despite the expense of Fortunato’s suit, he looks like he’s drowning in it, the material swallowing him as he slumps in the chair.
“You look like shit,” Dr Tem-Pest tells him.
“I didn’t sleep.”
“I can give you something for that.”
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
“No. No drugs.” Fortunato looks at Dr Tem-Pest, the stubble grainy across his chin, his eyes bloodshot, his hair wild. “Something is happening. Something….”
“What?”
“That noise,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “And then last night, I couldn’t sleep, so I went out and sat on the balcony, and I saw her.” His mouth is open, gaping at Dr Tem-Pest.
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
“Saw who?”
“Annabel. She was walking out of the lake.”
“You saw Annabel walking out of the lake?”
