Читать книгу Covent Garden in the Snow: The most gorgeous and heartwarming Christmas romance of the year! - Jules Wake, Jules Wake - Страница 10

Everyone caught in the unexpected evening sleet wore a coat of dandruff as they hurried into the tube station, casting worried looks up at the sky. They had nothing to worry about, as this was not proper snow. I’d grown up in Yorkshire on the edge of the Dales and so I knew all about wading to school through drifts up to your thighs.

As the damp bodies started to warm up,the smell of wet dog permeated the packed tube on the Northern Line. I was wedged between a man in a Che Guevara khaki jacket, stained dark with the rain and a girl in a heavyweight rain-coat that rustled with every jolt and bump of the train.

Unable to get enough elbow room to read my book, I twitched like a smoker desperate for a light.

Despite my unknown email correspondent being a Liverpool supporter, he had good taste in books. I’d started High Fidelity a couple of days before and was loving it.

Finally, yippee, enough people got off at Charing Cross and I dropped into a seat. By the time the doors closed, chapter two had absorbed me.

By Waterloo, I was deep in 70’s suburban life.

Kennington came and went.

Clapham North arrived as I was mid-snigger, and way before I was ready. Stuffing my book away and leaving the summer of ’76, I only just got out of the doors in time to join the stream of bowed bodies battling up the escalators into the bitterly cold night where, surprisingly, the tiny pinpricks of barely-there snow had turned into full on flakes, curling and floating down like feathers I still doubted it would settle.

With Felix away for the night, I could carry on reading. Making myself baked beans on toast, I stood stirring the pan of beans with one hand and my kindle in the other and ate my tea, flicking the pages on the touch screen with my fingers.

The washing up was left as I curled up on the sofa, the TV on for background noise, and carried on reading, completely hooked.

Temptation sizzled on the edge of my fingertips.

With half an eye on a very old episode of Spooks on the telly, I swapped to the email app on my Kindle.

Ever since I’d finished the last chapter, I’d been mentally composing the message.

I was just being polite. Letting a fellow reader know how much I was enjoying his recommendation.

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: Book

Thanks for the recommendation. High Fidelity is fab. Love it, although I got some strange looks on the tube on the way home. Kept laughing out loud. Just what I needed on a filthy winter night.

Thanks, again

Tilly

My finger hovered over the send button. Was this the sort of jump in feet first type of thing that Alison meant? But where was the harm?

The only downside I could think of was that he might think I was stalking him? Would he care what I thought? But then he did recommend the book.

If it were me, I’d be delighted to hear someone liked a book as much as I did.

Then again, he was a bloke.

I groaned out loud. I was giving myself a headache. It was just an email. He’d read it, raise his eyebrows, think it’s that dumb girl who sent the virus, delete it and think no more about it ever again.

Then again … He might just appreciate the feedback.

The argument in my stupid head was getting out of hand. I went with the ref’s decision and pressed the send button. Done. No regrets.

Putting down my Kindle, I went back to Spooks where things on the screen were tense. MI5 were about to save London for the fifth time that series.

An onscreen flash on my Kindle two minutes later interrupted a terse exchange between the head of division and one of his trigger-happy minions – I’d got mail.

To: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

From: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

I’m glad you’re enjoying it. One of my favourites. And also a great film.

Phew, he didn’t think I was some deranged lunatic stalking him.

Have you seen it? Not often you can say that, when they abandon a perfectly good English setting. Can’t understand that? Why didn’t they leave the record shop in England? In fact, why do film and TV companies have to fiddle with settings? The Killing? Life on Mars? Have we made an English Friends? Mates? CSI - Southampton? Thankfully High Fidelity survived. I’d recommend it if you haven’t seen it. One of those rare films that translates well from a book.

R

OK, he had a point with the setting thing, but plenty of other books survived celluloid translation. With tongue firmly pressed in cheek I typed,

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

Dear M

I think that perhaps being a Liverpool fan might have addled your brain. Loads of good films from books:

What about Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Bridget Jones’ Diary, Atonement?

M

An email came right back

To: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

From: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

What no car chases?

I giggled. He was starting to sound a lot less grey cardie and slippers.

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

Ok then, what about:

The Bourne Identity, Casino Royale, Patriot Games!

Yet another new message.

To: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

From: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

Depends on the Casino Royale. First or second. Bet you’re one of those girls who fancies Daniel Craig, although Lazenby is the cult James Bond.

He had no idea.

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

Daniel Craig!!!! No thank you. Timothy Dalton, every time!

To: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

From: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

Words fail me.

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

What’s wrong with him?!

To: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

From: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

The only positive thing I can say is that he had one of the best Bond girls.

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

Which one?

To: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

From: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

The blond cello player – they sledged down a mountain in her cello case. I’ve never read any Ian Fleming? Have you?

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

Yes, but not sure I should admit it. I read quite a few Bond books when I was a kid (very precocious reader) – totally (very) unsuitable for a twelve-year-old.

To: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

From: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

He did write Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

And you think that’s a suitable title for a kid’s book? Although I loved the musical at the Palladium. Bet you’re not a musical man.

To: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

From: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

I saw Oliver once. Definitely not a suitable title for a kid’s book although at that age I was going through my Sci-fi phase. More Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury.

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

Sci-fi … Oh dear. Just when I was starting to think … Although I have read The Time Traveller’s Wife.

To: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

From: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

Re: High Fidelity

Time Travellers Wife! That’s not Sci-fi.

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

How come? It’s about a man that zips back and forth in time. He might not be Dr Who but how can that not be Sci-fi?

To: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

From: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

O.K., I admit it, I’ve never read it but doesn’t sound very SF to me.

To: Redsman@hotmail.co.uk

From: Matilde@lmoc.co.uk

Subject: High Fidelity

HAVEN’T READ The Time Traveller’s Wife. Shame on you, a) it’s beautiful and b) it’s beautiful.

I forgot you’re a bloke!

Think you should broaden your horizons and read TTTW – it’s very original. Failing that you could always try the other Nick Hornby classic – Fever Pitch.

I grinned at that one. He might take offence at reading about Arsenal doing the double and winning the league cup and the FA cup in 1992 and he probably wasn’t a Colin Firth fan either, so wouldn’t appreciate the film version quite the way I had.

This might have gone on all night, except the phone rang at nine.

‘Hey missus, it’s me.’ Felix had been away for several days and was staying in some posh hotel in Brighton. A trip which had been extended by an additional day.

‘Hi.’

‘You all right?’ asked Felix, bouncy as ever.

‘Yes. Sorry, long day.’ I tried to sound a bit more with it, and not as guilty as I felt. I’d only been talking to someone on line, I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I knew I wouldn’t mention it to Felix. ‘How are you? When are you coming home? And is it snowing down there?’ Lifting the curtain, I was disappointed to see that only a few flakes danced across the sky, battling against a brisk wind. There was no sign of the light scattering that had settled earlier.

‘Not a speck here. I might stay here for ever. I could get used to this hotel. Five stars is right up my street,’ he enthused. ‘Might bring you some towels. Lovely, white fluffy ones.’

‘Felix! You can’t do that.’

‘People do it all the time.’ His voice took on a wheedling tone.

‘No! Don’t bring the towels home.’ You had to be literal with Felix at times.

‘Means we could put something else on the wedding list.’

‘At our age, do you think we need one?’ Not that we had got anywhere near arranging a wedding list. We occasionally referenced having one but never did anything about it. A bit like the wedding.

‘Be a shame though.’ He paused. ‘I fancied one of those space-age Philippe Starck orange-squeezers.’

‘They’re too War of the Worlds. I wouldn’t want one in the kitchen. I’d love one of those teas-made things. We should go for things we’d never buy for ourselves.’

‘Or use!’ said Felix scathingly. ‘You’re not one hundred and three.’

We both laughed.

‘We don’t need a wedding list,’ I said. We had pretty much everything we needed.

‘Of course we do. Isn’t that the whole point of getting married?’ He stopped. ‘Maybe we’d better call it off then.’

Silence filled the airwaves.

‘So how did—’

‘— the presentation went well.’

We interrupted one another.

‘Oh good.’

‘What have you got lined up on Friday?’ Felix paused. ‘Would you mind if I stayed down here another night? Save having to battle through the traffic.’

‘Aw, Felix. I’ve got an early finish on Friday, I thought we could do something together for a change.’

‘I’ll make it up to you.’

‘You’d better. I’ve got to see the IT guy that day. I’ll need cheering up after that.’

Felix burst out laughing. ‘So will he. I hope they’re paying him danger money.’