Читать книгу Faerie Tale - Raymond E. Feist - Страница 13

The house became a home, slowly, with resistance, but soon the odd corners had been explored and the ancient odours had become commonplace. The idiosyncrasies of the house – the strange little storage area beneath the stairs next to the cellar door, the odd shed in the back, the way the pipes upstairs rattled – all these things became familiar. Gloria considered her family: Gabbie wasn’t happy but had ceased brooding, and the twins shared their secret world, seemingly content wherever their family was. Gloria had been most concerned over their reaction to the move, but they had shown the least difficulty in adapting. The most positive aspect of the move had been in Phil’s attitude. He was writing every day and seemed transported. He refused to show Gloria any of his work so far, saying he felt superstitious. She knew that was so much bullshit, for she had talked out story ideas into the night with him before. She knew he was simply afraid she wouldn’t like what he was writing and the bubble would burst. All in good time, she thought, all in good time.

Seventeen days after Jack Cole’s visit, a note was delivered by the mailman. It was addressed to ‘Philip Hastings and Family’. Gloria opened it while Phil scanned a letter from his literary agent. ‘… look forward to presenting your newest work. Several publishers already have expressed interest …’ Phil read aloud.

‘Read this,’ Gloria instructed as she handed him the note.

He scanned the envelope and frowned. One of his pet quirks was about Gloria’s opening letters addressed to him, something she loved to do. ‘It said, “and Family”. That’s me,’ she said with mock challenge in her tone.

Phil sighed. ‘Defeated before I begin.’ He read aloud, ‘ “Mrs Agatha Grant invites Mr Philip Hastings and family to dinner, Sunday 24 June. Cocktails at 5 p.m. Regrets only.”’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means RSVP only if you can’t come, you California barbarian.’

Gloria playfully kicked her husband. ‘Barbarian! Who was it who called the town “La Jawl-lah” the first time he propositioned me?’

‘I did?’

‘You most certainly did. It was at Harv Moran’s house, at the wrap party for Bridesdale. You came sliding up to me while my date was over getting drinks – Robbie Tedesco, that was who I was with. You and I had just met at the studio the day before and you said, “I’ve got an invitation to spend the weekend at a friend’s beach house in La Jawl-lah. Do you think you could get away for a couple of days?”’ She spoke the lines with a deep voice, mimicking his speech patterns.

Phil looked only mildly embarrassed. ‘I remember, I still can’t believe I did that. I had never asked a near stranger to spend the weekend with me before.’ Then he smiled. ‘Well, you did come with me.’

Gloria laughed. ‘I did, didn’t I? I guess I just figured someone was going to grab up this eastern square and it might as well be me.’ She playfully grabbed a handful of his greying hair and pulled his head down, kissing him quickly. ‘And La Jolla was beautiful.’

‘So were you … as you still are,’ he said, kissing her deeply. He felt her respond. Playfully nipping at her neck, he whispered, ‘We haven’t pulled a nooner in years, kiddo.’

Then the phone rang, and Gabbie shouted from upstairs, ‘I’ll get it!’

Instantly they heard the sound of the screen door slamming as the boys tromped into the kitchen. ‘Maaa!’ shouted Patrick.

‘What’s for lunch?’ inquired Sean in counterpoint.

Passion fled. Leaning against her husband, Gloria shook her head. ‘Such are the prices of parenthood.’ With a quick kiss, she said, ‘Hold that last thought for tonight, lover.’

Gabbie came running partway down the stairs, holding the phone at the limit of the cord’s ability to stretch. ‘It’s Jack. He’s back. We’re going riding this afternoon, then getting a bite and a movie. So I won’t be home for dinner. Okay?’

Phil said, ‘Sure,’ as the boys came marching in from the kitchen. Gabbie dashed back up the stairs.

‘Mom,’ said Patrick, ‘what’s for lunch?’

‘We’re hungry,’ agreed Sean.

Gloria shrugged regretfully towards her husband. Putting her hands on her sons’ shoulders, she turned them around and said, ‘With me, troops.’ Suddenly she was gone, heading for the kitchen to feed her small brood. Phil could still smell her clean scent in the hall air and felt the deep stirrings that contact with her always brought quickly into existence. With a sigh of regret at the moment’s being gone, he returned to reading the mail as he walked back towards his study.