Previous chapter: Chapter Three
|Wilder had been away on location for three days, shooting scenes for a new documentary on prison unrest. A strike by the inmates at a large provincial prison, widely covered by the newspapers and television, had given him a chance to inject some directly topical footage into the documentary.|
|She pointed to the cine- camera on the floor between Wilder’s feet. “What’s that for?”
“I may shoot some footage — for the high-rise project.”
“Another prison documentary.” Helen smiled at Wilder without any show of humour.
|“What are they investigating?”
“The death, of course. Of our high-diving jeweller.”
Picking up the cine-camera, Wilder took off the lens shroud.
“Have you spoken to the police?”
|As his sons wandered sleepily into the room Helen remarked, “Perhaps we could move to a higher floor.”|
|At night, as he lay beside his sleeping wife, he would often wake from an uneasy dream into the suffocating bedroom, conscious of each of the 999 other apartments pressing on him through the walls and ceiling, forcing the air from his chest.|
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