Read Online A Little Love by Amanda Prowse - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Amanda Prowse
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frustration. ‘Normally I can talk to anyone, stroll into any house, however posh, and talk cake until the cows come home! And yet I can’t send a simple message. I know, I know, just get on with it.’
She twisted her blouse in her hands until finally she exhaled. With her finger poised, she considered what to put.
After ten minutes, she had erased both Hi there! for sounding too much like a teen catching up with someone she had snogged on Prom night, and Just wondering… for being both too formal and too familiar. It was a minefield. Pru slammed the phone down on to the wooden surface and placed her head in her hands. ‘Just give it up, Pru,’ she muttered aloud. ‘If he liked you, he’d have called you. Simple as.’
Her finger hovered over the delete button. She figured that if she removed his contact details, it would be easier to ignore the fact that his name wasn’t flashing on her screen.
Pru and Milly were in the sitting room. It had been rather a long day and both were looking forward to an early night. It was only late April, but the unseasonably sticky London night air was so thick you could stir it with a spoon. Milly had thankfully ditched her tiger suit and was wearing cool cotton PJs. The sash windows were open and the French doors in Pru’s bedroom that led to the little Juliet balcony were thrown wide, yet hardly a breeze crept in.
Pru stood and fanned her face with a copy of a glossy bridal magazine that Bobby had left on the floor. ‘I think I’ll turn in, Mills.’ She stretched her arms over her head, instantly regretting the pull on her shoulder muscles. ‘Oh I’m getting old!’ she grumbled, and arched her back and dropped her chin into her chest, trying to fix her aches.
The front doorbell buzzed in their hallway.
‘Who’s that at this time of night?’
‘How do I know, Milly? What am I, psychic?’
Pru trod the pale, carpeted stairs and slid the bolts, untwisting the double lock before opening the door on to its security chain. This happened on occasion. Living on a busy street meant they were prey to the occasional drunk and prank doorbell ringer, both of whom she found particularly unhilarious. Through the crack beneath the door chain she saw neither a drunk nor a dandy in a dinner jacket with grinning mates standing behind. Instead, she stared, wide-eyed with surprise, into the face of Sir Christopher Heritage. He stood close to the door; the toes of his shoes rested on the polished brass step and his hands were buried in his trouser pockets. Pru fumbled with the chain and released it.
‘Actually, I lied to you,’ he said.
‘What?’ Pru’s heart thudded as much at seeing him again as at the prospect of an unpleasant revelation.
‘I do know why I talk to my late wife. I talk to her because I’m lonely and it makes it slightly better to think that I can still tell her about my day and what’s going through my head. There’s no one else for me to talk to. And you’re right, it makes me feel that she’s still around in some way.’ He was almost gabbling now. Pru had to concentrate hard to keep up. ‘And when you left, I wasn’t wondering about your route home, I was wondering if I could see you again, but I lost my nerve and I’ve been kicking myself ever since. It’s been over forty years since I’ve had to say something like that and I’m rather out of practice.’
Pru beamed. She’d caught every word. ‘Well, for someone that’s four decades out of practice, you seem to be doing rather well.’
‘I do?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled.
‘So, what I wanted to say was, can I see you again, Pru Plum, Chief Whip?’
‘Are you asking me out?’
‘Yes. Yes I am.’ This time he sounded confident.
‘When?’
Christopher sighed and looked up and down Curzon Street. ‘Now. Right now. Let’s go wandering in the park and continue our chat. That is if you’re free. It’ll be nice and cool in the park.’
Pru exhaled. ‘Well, there is a cup of cocoa
She twisted her blouse in her hands until finally she exhaled. With her finger poised, she considered what to put.
After ten minutes, she had erased both Hi there! for sounding too much like a teen catching up with someone she had snogged on Prom night, and Just wondering… for being both too formal and too familiar. It was a minefield. Pru slammed the phone down on to the wooden surface and placed her head in her hands. ‘Just give it up, Pru,’ she muttered aloud. ‘If he liked you, he’d have called you. Simple as.’
Her finger hovered over the delete button. She figured that if she removed his contact details, it would be easier to ignore the fact that his name wasn’t flashing on her screen.
Pru and Milly were in the sitting room. It had been rather a long day and both were looking forward to an early night. It was only late April, but the unseasonably sticky London night air was so thick you could stir it with a spoon. Milly had thankfully ditched her tiger suit and was wearing cool cotton PJs. The sash windows were open and the French doors in Pru’s bedroom that led to the little Juliet balcony were thrown wide, yet hardly a breeze crept in.
Pru stood and fanned her face with a copy of a glossy bridal magazine that Bobby had left on the floor. ‘I think I’ll turn in, Mills.’ She stretched her arms over her head, instantly regretting the pull on her shoulder muscles. ‘Oh I’m getting old!’ she grumbled, and arched her back and dropped her chin into her chest, trying to fix her aches.
The front doorbell buzzed in their hallway.
‘Who’s that at this time of night?’
‘How do I know, Milly? What am I, psychic?’
Pru trod the pale, carpeted stairs and slid the bolts, untwisting the double lock before opening the door on to its security chain. This happened on occasion. Living on a busy street meant they were prey to the occasional drunk and prank doorbell ringer, both of whom she found particularly unhilarious. Through the crack beneath the door chain she saw neither a drunk nor a dandy in a dinner jacket with grinning mates standing behind. Instead, she stared, wide-eyed with surprise, into the face of Sir Christopher Heritage. He stood close to the door; the toes of his shoes rested on the polished brass step and his hands were buried in his trouser pockets. Pru fumbled with the chain and released it.
‘Actually, I lied to you,’ he said.
‘What?’ Pru’s heart thudded as much at seeing him again as at the prospect of an unpleasant revelation.
‘I do know why I talk to my late wife. I talk to her because I’m lonely and it makes it slightly better to think that I can still tell her about my day and what’s going through my head. There’s no one else for me to talk to. And you’re right, it makes me feel that she’s still around in some way.’ He was almost gabbling now. Pru had to concentrate hard to keep up. ‘And when you left, I wasn’t wondering about your route home, I was wondering if I could see you again, but I lost my nerve and I’ve been kicking myself ever since. It’s been over forty years since I’ve had to say something like that and I’m rather out of practice.’
Pru beamed. She’d caught every word. ‘Well, for someone that’s four decades out of practice, you seem to be doing rather well.’
‘I do?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled.
‘So, what I wanted to say was, can I see you again, Pru Plum, Chief Whip?’
‘Are you asking me out?’
‘Yes. Yes I am.’ This time he sounded confident.
‘When?’
Christopher sighed and looked up and down Curzon Street. ‘Now. Right now. Let’s go wandering in the park and continue our chat. That is if you’re free. It’ll be nice and cool in the park.’
Pru exhaled. ‘Well, there is a cup of cocoa
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