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Kinsella Sophie - Twenties Girl Twenties Girl

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Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Техника

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело

Последние комментарии
оксана2018-11-27
Вообще, я больше люблю новинки литератур
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Professor2018-11-27
Очень понравилась книга. Рекомендую!
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Vera.Li2016-02-21
Миленько и простенько, без всяких интриг
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ст.ст.2018-05-15
 И что это было?
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Наталья222018-11-27
Сюжет захватывающий. Все-таки читать кни
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Twenties Girl - Kinsella Sophie - Страница 22


22
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Damn. OK, I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear him.

Mum and Dad are exchanging looks. “Isn’t that where Josh lives?” says Mum tentatively.

“I don’t remember,” I say carelessly. “Anyway, it’s for someone else-”

“Thirty-two Bickenhall Mansions?” The driver has leaned farther out of his cab, his voice raised higher. “Lara Lington? You book taxi?”

Bugger.

“Why are you going to Josh’s flat?” Mum sounds beside herself.

“I’m… not!” I flounder. “It must be some car I booked months ago, finally turning up! They’re always late. You’re six months late! Go away!” I shoo at the bemused driver, who eventually puts the car into gear and drives away.

There’s a kind of tense silence. Dad’s expression is so transparent it’s endearing. He wants to believe the best of me. On the other hand, the evidence is all pointing one way.

“Lara, do you swear that taxi wasn’t for you?” he says at last.

“I swear.” I nod. “On… Great-Aunt Sadie’s life.”

I hear a gasp and look around to see Sadie’s eyes beaming fury at me.

“I couldn’t think of anything else!” I say defensively.

Sadie ignores me and walks right up to Dad. “You’re fools,” she says emphatically. “She’s still smitten with Josh. She’s about to spy on him. And she’s making me do her dirty work.”

“Shut up, you sneak!” I exclaim before I can stop myself.

“Sorry?” Dad stares at me.

“Nothing.” I clear my throat. “Nothing! I’m fine.”

“You’re a lunatic.” Sadie swivels around pityingly.

“At least I’m not haunting people!” I can’t help retorting.

“Haunting?” Dad is trying to follow me. “Lara… what on earth…”

“Sorry.” I smile at him. “Just thinking aloud. In fact… I was actually thinking about poor Great-Aunt Sadie.” I sigh, shaking my head pityingly. “She had such sad little twiggy arms.”

“They’re not twiggy!” Sadie glares back.

“She probably thought they were really attractive. Talk about deluded!” I laugh gaily. “Who wants pipe cleaners for arms?”

“Who wants pillows for arms?” Sadie shoots back, and I gasp in outrage.

“They’re not pillows!”

“Lara…” says Dad faintly. “What’s not pillows?”

Mum looks like she wants to cry. She’s still clutching on to her potted plant and a book entitled Stress-Free Living: You CAN Achieve It.

“Anyway, I have to get to work.” I give Mum a huge hug. “It’s been brilliant to see you. And I’ll read your book and take some vitamins. And I’ll see you soon, Dad.” I hug him too. “Don’t worry!”

I blow them both kisses and hurry off along the pavement. When I reach the corner, I turn to wave-and they’re both still standing there like waxworks.

I do feel sorry for my parents, I really do. Maybe I’ll buy them a box of chocolates.

Twenty minutes later I’m standing outside Josh’s building, feeling bubbly with exhilaration. Everything’s going according to plan. I’ve located his window and explained the layout of the flat. Now it’s up to Sadie.

“Go on!” I say excitedly. “Walk through the wall! This is so cool!”

“I don’t need to walk through the wall.” She shoots me a disparaging look. “I’ll simply imagine myself inside his flat.”

“OK. Well… good luck. Try to find out as much as you can. And be careful!”

Sadie disappears, and I crane my neck to survey Josh’s window, but I can’t see anything. I feel almost sick with anticipation. This is the nearest I’ve been to Josh in weeks. He’s in there right now. And Sadie’s watching him. And any minute she’ll come out and-

“He’s not there.” Sadie appears in front of me.

“Not there?” I stare at her, affronted. “Well, where is he? He doesn’t usually leave for work ’til nine.”

“I’ve no idea.” She doesn’t sound remotely interested.

“What did the place look like?” I can’t help probing for details. “Is it a real mess? Like, with old abandoned pizza boxes and beer bottles everywhere? Like he’s been letting himself go? Like he doesn’t really care about life anymore?”

“No, it’s very tidy. Lots of fruit in the kitchen,” Sadie adds. “I noticed that.”

“Oh. Well, he’s obviously taking care of himself, then.” I hunch my shoulders, a bit discouraged. It’s not that I want Josh to be an emotional wreck on the brink of meltdown, exactly, but…

Well. You know. It would be quite flattering.

“Let’s go.” Sadie yawns. “I’ve had enough of this.”

“I’m not just leaving! Go in again! Look around for clues! Like… are there any photographs of me or anything?”

“No,” says Sadie at once. “None. Not a single one.”

“You haven’t even looked.” I glare at her resentfully. “Search on his desk. Maybe he’s in the middle of writing a letter to me or something. Go on!” Without thinking, I try to push her toward the building, but my hands sink straight through her body.

“Urgh!” I recoil, feeling squeamish.

“Don’t do that!” she exclaims.

“Did it… hurt?” I can’t help glancing at my hands, as though they really have just plunged through her innards.

“Not exactly,” she says grudgingly. “But it’s not pleasant to have someone’s hands poking through my stomach.”

She whisks off again. I try to damp down my agitation and wait patiently. But this is totally unbearable, being stuck outside. If it were me searching, I’d find something, I know I would. Like a diary full of Josh’s thoughts. Or a half-written email, unsent. Or… or poetry. Imagine that.

I can’t help sliding into a fantasy about Sadie coming across a poem scrawled on some cast-aside piece of paper. Something really simple and direct, just like Josh himself.

It Was All A Mistake

God, I miss you, Lara.

I love your-

I can’t think of anything to rhyme with Lara.

“Wake up! Lara?” I jump and open my eyes to see Sadie in front of me again.

“Did you find something?” I gasp.

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I did!” Sadie looks triumphant. “Something rather interesting and extremely relevant.”

“Oh my God. What?” I can hardly breathe as tantalizing possibilities flash through my mind. A photo of me under his pillow… a diary entry resolving to get back in touch with me-

“He’s having lunch with another girl on Saturday.”

“What?” All my fantasies melt away. I stare at her, stricken. “What do you mean, he’s having lunch with another girl?”

“There was a memorandum pinned up in the kitchen: twelve-thirty lunch with Marie.”

I don’t know anyone called Marie. Josh doesn’t know anyone called Marie.

“Who’s Marie?” I can’t contain my agitation. “Who’s Marie?”

Sadie shrugs. “His new girlfriend?”

“Don’t say that!” I cry in horror. “He hasn’t got a new girlfriend! He wouldn’t have! He said there wasn’t anyone else! He said…”

I trail off, my heart thumping. It never even occurred to me that Josh might be seeing another girl already. It never even crossed my mind.

In his breakup email, he said he wasn’t going to rush into anything new. He said he had to take time out to think about his whole life. Well, he hasn’t thought for very long, has he? If I was going to think about my whole life, I’d take ages longer than six weeks. I’d take… a year! At least! Maybe two or three.

Boys treat thinking like sex. They think it takes twenty minutes and then you’re done and there’s no point talking about it. They have no idea.

“Did it say where they’re having lunch?”

Sadie nods. “Bistro Martin.”

“Bistro Martin?” I think I’m going to hyperventilate. “That’s where we had our first date! We always used to go there!”

Josh is taking a girl to Bistro Martin. A girl called Marie.

“Go in again.” I wave my hands agitatedly at the building. “Search around! Find out more!”

“I’m not going in again!” objects Sadie. “You’ve found out all you need to know.”

Actually, she has a point.

“You’re right.” Abruptly, I turn and start walking away from the flat, so preoccupied that I nearly bump into an old man. “Yes, you’re right. I know which restaurant they’re going to be at, and what time; I’ll just go along and see for myself-”