Читать книгу For Hire: The Intimate Adventures of a Gigolo - Luke Bradbury - Страница 13

Mid-March

The elegant clock on the mantelpiece told me I’d already been here well over an hour—and we still hadn’t got beyond the talking stage.

I ignored the voice in my head telling me I was losing my touch. I knew exactly what I was doing with Josephine. I was letting her talk herself out until she felt comfortable enough to move to the next stage.

She was telling me about her family visits to India. It was funny, because when I’d first spoken to Josephine on the phone, I’d presumed by the lilt in her voice that she might be Welsh and had been surprised when a handsome, fifty-something Asian lady had opened the door to me. She lived in a quiet street in leafy Twickenham.

As I settled into the comfy sofa, I noted the array of Indian carvings among the immaculately arranged antiques. A pair of knee-high elephants guarded the marble fireplace.

I looked across at Josephine. She was sitting far back in a striped armchair that matched the sofa, nervously holding onto her teacup and saucer. If she gripped it any tighter, I was sure the thing would shatter between her fingertips. I smiled with my eyes to reassure her.

‘It’s not often I come out this far.’

‘I’m a solicitor at a local practice,’ she disclosed, which surprised me, since she spoke in a quiet voice that didn’t especially fill me with confidence—and suggested that she still had a way to go before she felt totally relaxed in my company.

‘I came to the area not long after I qualified. I can remember when the houses round here were divided into bedsits. I’ve got this place—’ she looked up to the ceiling to indicate the entire house—‘all to myself.’