Читать книгу The Accident: The bestselling psychological thriller - C.L. Taylor, C.L. Taylor, C. L. Taylor - Страница 14

It was James on the phone on Wednesday. He was terribly apologetic, said some awful things had happened in his personal life and asked if I’d ever be able to forgive him for leaving me hanging. I wanted to be angry, to tell him that I deserved to be treated better and that he couldn’t just expect me to forgive him because he’d deigned to pick up the phone. Instead I said, ‘Buy me a beer and I’ll think about it.’ He called me an ‘angel’ then and said it was typical of the amazing person I was that I’d be so understanding.

When we met for a beer I tried to find out more about these ‘personal things’ that had stopped him from calling but he skirted the issue, telling me he’d reveal all once we’d been together a bit longer. (So we’re ‘together’ are we? Interesting!)

Almost inevitably we ended up in bed together. Again.

We’d been to the Heart and Hand in Clapham Common and, as last orders were called, I suggested we get the tube back to my flat because I had a couple of bottles of wine that needed drinking. James jumped at the idea. He said he couldn’t wait to see my flat and what my things said about me. As it turned out all he saw as we spilled through the front door, into the bedsitting room and onto my futon was a couple of magnolia-painted walls and the white ceiling.

Afterwards, as we lay in each other’s arms, listening to ‘Monkey Gone to Heaven’ by the Pixies on repeat (we were both too lazy to get out of bed and change the CD), I asked James when I’d get to see his place. A cloud passed over his face and he said, ‘Never hopefully.’ When I asked what that meant he shrugged and said he needed the loo. When he came back he said something that made me laugh and that was it, subject changed without me even noticing.

I won’t give up so easily next time the subject comes up …