Книга Lost Summer - читать онлайн бесплатно, автор Stuart Harrison. Cтраница 8
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Lost Summer
Lost Summer
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Lost Summer

‘My dear, it’s practically in Scotland.’ He seemed to think civilization ended somewhere just north of Hampstead, and Hadrian’s Wall hadn’t been built for nothing.

Now, as they chatted, and he asked how her current book was progressing she wondered what he really wanted. She told him the book would be finished on time.

‘Excellent,’ he said, and there was a significant pause.

‘Was there something specific you wanted to talk about, Julian?’

‘Actually there is, now that you come to mention it. An American firm is interested in publishing you.’ He paused to allow a moment for that to sink in. ‘They like your work, but they want you to do a series specifically for their market.’

‘You mean, set them in America?’

‘Actually, they want you to make them more English. Or at least more like the average American’s idea of England. Put in a few teashops and the odd m’lord perhaps. There is a catch,’ Julian added.

‘A catch?’ She should have known there would be. The excitement she’d begun to feel rapidly dissipated.

‘The thing is they want nine books over the next three years.’

‘Nine?’ she echoed.

‘And they would want you for a publicity tour.’

Suddenly she realized exactly what would be involved. What had begun as an interest, something she found personally rewarding, would become a full-time career. Three books a year would mean taking on a commitment way beyond her current contract with Julian. She understood that it wouldn’t end there. It would just be the beginning. A tour would mean she would have to go away, perhaps for weeks. Her life would change. ‘I don’t know, Julian. There’s Kate to think of.’

He sighed. ‘I was afraid you’d say that. This kind of opportunity doesn’t often come along, Angela. It may never happen again. Before you turn it down, at least think about it. Will you promise me?’

She hesitated before she agreed. She owed him that much. ‘Of course I will.’

‘That’s all I ask.’

He then spent another fifteen minutes reiterating what was at stake. He kept repeating that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If things went well perhaps other countries would publish her books too. The Americans would launch her with a tour of their major cities. New York, San Francisco, Chicago. When he finally let her go her head was spinning with the thought of all those places she had only ever read about. After they hung up she gazed out of the window at the fells. Once she had thought that this was the only life she ever wanted; herself and David and Kate, this house. They had been happy. Her expression clouded with sadness.

Downstairs Angela paused in the doorway to David’s study. The room smelt vaguely musty so she opened the window to let in some air. She glanced at some papers on the desk. A recent bank statement for the sawmill revealed that there was more money going out of the business than was coming in. She opened the drawer where she knew David kept his Scotch and the bottle she found was only two-thirds full. Yesterday it had been unopened.

She looked around at the hunting and fishing prints on the wall, the clutter of male effects. Three or four fishing rods in one corner, an old leather shotgun case that he kept behind the bookcase. The room had David’s stamp all over it. It was a man’s room. She used to think she knew him. For most of their married life together they’d been happy. They had the occasional argument and there were things about David that irritated her, but they weren’t important. No doubt he felt the same way about some of her habits. But these last few months he had changed. At first she’d put it down to worry about the sawmill. The local economy, which was so reliant on farming, had taken a battering in successive years, and uncertainty over the estate hadn’t helped matters. But it was more than that. She had the disconcerting feeling that this was the room of a stranger. These days when David was at home he sat in here brooding and drinking. He wouldn’t talk to her any more, though she knew there was something eating away at him. She couldn’t remember when he’d last slept in their bed. A month? Six weeks? It was affecting Kate as well. She avoided her father and these days hardly ever brought friends home from school.

For the first time in thirteen years Angela faced the possibility that her marriage was in trouble. How much longer was she prepared to go on like this? Briefly she envisaged a new life for herself and Kate. It was just a momentary speculation, prompted in part by her conversation with Julian, partly by an increasing sense of hopelessness. Almost immediately she banished the thought. What was she thinking? Guiltily she left the room.

CHAPTER TEN

As Adam went into the newsagent’s the bell over the door rang. He paused, savouring the mingled smells of tobacco and sugar confectionary. A middle-aged woman behind the counter looked up and smiled. He didn’t recognize her. He went over to the counter and picked up some chewing gum.

‘Wasn’t this shop once owned by George Curtis?’ he asked casually. ‘I noticed the name over the door had changed.’

‘I couldn’t tell you,’ she said. ‘I haven’t lived here long.’

Her accent, he realized, wasn’t even Cumbrian. She sounded as if she was from Newcastle. He smiled, feeling foolish, and went back outside. As he walked back towards the square he watched people pass by, searching for a familiar face. Across the road a woman came down the steps from the bank. She was fishing in her bag, perhaps looking for her car keys because she stopped beside a Renault parked by the kerb. He watched her, his heart beating hard in his chest. At that moment she looked up, and their eyes met.

Her hair was still long and pale blonde. She wore jeans and a dark jacket, and his secret fear that the years would have changed her was swept away. She broke their gaze and found her keys, but then as she was about to get into her car she looked again, and this time her brow creased in a puzzled frown. All at once her expression slowly dissolved. She gave a small, disbelieving shake of her head and smiled uncertainly. She began to cross the road, and as he went to meet her, her smile broadened.

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