He called her five minutes later. He heard her heavy steps coming down the stairs. The room smelled strongly of fuel. 79 She stopped at the end of the hall and shouted out, 'Paul, are you really finished?' Paul looked at the huge pile of paper in front of him on the table. It was wet with fuel. 'Well,' he shouted back, 'I did the best I could, Annie.' 'I can hardly believe it!' she said. 'After all this time! I'm so excited. I'll go and get the champagne. I won't be a minute!' She sounded like a little girl. He heard her crossing the kitchen floor. The fridge door squeaked open and then shut again. She started down the hall. He reached for the box of matches and took out the single match. He scratched it against the side, but it didn't light. She was nearly at his door. The third time, the match lit and he watched the yellow flame carefully. 'I just hope t h i s - ' She stopped. Paul was holding the burning match just above the pile of paper. Paul had turned the top page around so that Annie could see it when she came into the room: MISERY'S RETURN, by Paul Sheldon. Annie's mouth dropped open. 'Paul, what are you going?' 'I've finished,' he said. 'And it's good. In fact, Annie, I think it's the best thing I've ever written. Now I'm going to do a little trick with it. It's a good trick. I learned it from you.' 'Paul, no!' Her voice was full of pain and understanding. Her hands reached out and she dropped the champagne bottle and the glasses on to the floor. They broke: there were pieces of glass and champagne everywhere. 'It's a pity that you'll never read it,' Paul said, and smiled at her. It was his first real smile for months. 'Actually, I think it's better than a good novel: I think it was a great novel, Annie.' The match was starting to burn his fingers. He dropped it on to the pile of paper. For one awful moment he thought it had gone out, but then pale blue fire rushed across the top page and down the sides of the typescript. The flames grew taller and 80 stronger when they met the little pools of fuel which lay on the table on both sides of the typescript. 'OH, GOD, NO!' Annie screamed. 'NO! NOT MISERY! NOT HER! NO!' Paul could now feel the heat of the flames on his face. 'PAUL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU CAN'T BURN MISERY, YOU DIRTY BIRD, YOU!' And then she did exactly what he had known she would do; she seized the burning pile of paper. Then she turned roun............