The Brightest Star in the Sky [antikvár]

Day 61June the first, a bright summer's evening, a Monday. I've been flying over the streets and houses of Dublin and now, finally, I'm here. I enter through the roof. Via a skylight I slide into a living room and right away I know it's a woman who lives here. There's a femininity to the furnishings -pastel-coloured throws on the sofa, that sort of thing. Two plants. Both alive. A television of modest size.I appear to have arrived in the middle of some event. Several people are standing in an awkward circle, sipping from glasses of champagne and pretending to laugh at what the others are saying. A variety of ages and sexes suggests that this is a family occasion.Birthday cards abound. Discarded wrapping paper. Presents. Talk of leaving for the restaurant. Hungry for information I read the cards. They're addressed to someone caUed Katie and she appears to be celebrating her fortieth birthday. I wouldn't have thought that that called for much celebration but it takes aU sorts, I'm told.I locate Katie. She looks a good deal younger than forty, but forty is the new twenty, according to my information. She's tallish and dark-haired and bosomy and gamely doing her best to stay upright in a pair of spike-heeled knee-boots. Her force field is a pleasant one; she vibrates with levelheaded warmth, like a süghtiy sexy primary-school teacher. (Although that's not actually her job. I know this because I know an awful lot.)The man next to Katie, glowing with dark pride - the pride