Everest Hotel
Allan Sealy1998

Bougainvillaea blazes at the gate.
Red as the sun on a level-crossing gate, as a linesman's flag, as a planet signalling. Ritu pauses to admire, in spite of her loss. Clusters of red bracts, transparencies. She picks one, rubs the membrane between finger and thumb.
Custody of the hands, Cecelia notes.
In the sullage drain by the boundary wall a stray dog lies on its side. Dark water ebbs along its ginger coat, soothing mange. It lifts its head to greet the nuns, turns humid eyes on Ritu. She returns an absent smile.
"Everest", says the plaque set in a moss-stained gatepost. A fine flowing script worked in marble, black set in moon white. Ritu admires the workmanship. Nowadays all marble scripts are crude squarecut capitals.
She turns again to the dog, whose head is twisted back and up. Its black eyes meet hers in mute entreaty. You're lucky, she thinks, you have nothing to lose.

Titre original : The Everest Hotel (1998)