Read Online Best Laid Plans by Patricia Fawcett - Free Book Online
Authors: Patricia Fawcett
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it beat talking to herself, which, being on her own in her flat, happened a lot.
She wanted Brian to open up a little so that she knew more about what made him tick because his unwillingness to talk about his life was beginning to make her think that all was not as it appeared. In the meantime, she thought it necessary to warn him that, even though they were just friends, her parents might think they were serious about each other.
‘Thanks for coming,’ she told him once they were on a quieter road. ‘They are looking forward to meeting you.’
‘Me too. Christmas is all about families,’ he said.
She did not take her eyes off the road but she detected in his voice a strange wistfulness and waited a moment for him to elaborate but he did not.
‘My dad will want to know all about your prospects,’ she went on, keeping cheerful. ‘I hope you don’t mind but he thinks I’m still about sixteen. Just humour him, will you?’ She laughed at his muttered grumble. ‘I hope you’ve brought your tax return form. He might want to check it.’
Her attempt at humour was lost on him. ‘I have no intention of spoiling things by talking about work,’ he said stiffly.
‘It wouldn’t spoil things for me. I am willing to do anything to stop them from bringing out the family photographs. Incidentally …’ this time she stole the quickest of glances at him, ‘where are yours? You don’t have any at your place.’
‘Any what?’
She stopped a sigh. Was he being deliberately obtuse? ‘Family photographs,’ she said. ‘There are no photographs anywhere in your house.’
‘So? Is that a problem?’ He sounded irritated and that irritated her in turn. This relationship was all about highsand lows with no middle ground. Honestly, it was patently obvious that it was going nowhere if, three months in, they were already on the edge of serious bickering. ‘I’ve told you, I don’t have any family and that’s the end of it. Just leave it. I don’t want to talk about it.’
She waited for him to say more, to mellow his tone at least, in short to bloody apologize, but he did not and even though she could feel her own anger rising, now was not the time for an argument as they were at last on the narrow road leading to Downill which was all twists and turns, ups and downs and she needed all her concentration as the weather had turned nasty and the rain that had accompanied them for most of the journey was turning to sleet as they climbed. Visibility was poor now and she was conscious that a lot of accidents occurred near home when you were starting to relax and beginning to think of the end of the journey at last, looking forward to welcoming warmth and a cup of tea. She took the decision to slow down as she felt her car’s grip on the road lessen and the tyres began to throw up slush and on cue, Brian urged her to be careful as there was a lot of standing water on the side of the road.
‘Who’s driving this car?’ she said tetchily. ‘Me or you?’
And at that he subsided into miffed silence.
‘You didn’t tell me it was quite so grand,’ Brian broke what had started to be an uncomfortable silence as she swung the car through the gates. She decided magnanimously to forgive him as sulking was not the best way to start the Christmas break and her mother would notice at once if the atmosphere between them seemed strained.
‘It’s not that grand.’ But she supposed through his eyes it might be. It was only a small-scale country house but the gardens were impressive and in summer were truly spectacular.
She drew the car to a halt on the gravel, pulled on the handbrake and sighed, in no immediate hurry to get out.She needed to take a moment before she faced her mother and the inquisition that would follow.
‘How many staff do they employ?’ Brian clicked open his seatbelt and turned a little to face her.
‘Just two,’ she said defensively. ‘A gardener and Jean who helps Mum in the house a couple of
She wanted Brian to open up a little so that she knew more about what made him tick because his unwillingness to talk about his life was beginning to make her think that all was not as it appeared. In the meantime, she thought it necessary to warn him that, even though they were just friends, her parents might think they were serious about each other.
‘Thanks for coming,’ she told him once they were on a quieter road. ‘They are looking forward to meeting you.’
‘Me too. Christmas is all about families,’ he said.
She did not take her eyes off the road but she detected in his voice a strange wistfulness and waited a moment for him to elaborate but he did not.
‘My dad will want to know all about your prospects,’ she went on, keeping cheerful. ‘I hope you don’t mind but he thinks I’m still about sixteen. Just humour him, will you?’ She laughed at his muttered grumble. ‘I hope you’ve brought your tax return form. He might want to check it.’
Her attempt at humour was lost on him. ‘I have no intention of spoiling things by talking about work,’ he said stiffly.
‘It wouldn’t spoil things for me. I am willing to do anything to stop them from bringing out the family photographs. Incidentally …’ this time she stole the quickest of glances at him, ‘where are yours? You don’t have any at your place.’
‘Any what?’
She stopped a sigh. Was he being deliberately obtuse? ‘Family photographs,’ she said. ‘There are no photographs anywhere in your house.’
‘So? Is that a problem?’ He sounded irritated and that irritated her in turn. This relationship was all about highsand lows with no middle ground. Honestly, it was patently obvious that it was going nowhere if, three months in, they were already on the edge of serious bickering. ‘I’ve told you, I don’t have any family and that’s the end of it. Just leave it. I don’t want to talk about it.’
She waited for him to say more, to mellow his tone at least, in short to bloody apologize, but he did not and even though she could feel her own anger rising, now was not the time for an argument as they were at last on the narrow road leading to Downill which was all twists and turns, ups and downs and she needed all her concentration as the weather had turned nasty and the rain that had accompanied them for most of the journey was turning to sleet as they climbed. Visibility was poor now and she was conscious that a lot of accidents occurred near home when you were starting to relax and beginning to think of the end of the journey at last, looking forward to welcoming warmth and a cup of tea. She took the decision to slow down as she felt her car’s grip on the road lessen and the tyres began to throw up slush and on cue, Brian urged her to be careful as there was a lot of standing water on the side of the road.
‘Who’s driving this car?’ she said tetchily. ‘Me or you?’
And at that he subsided into miffed silence.
‘You didn’t tell me it was quite so grand,’ Brian broke what had started to be an uncomfortable silence as she swung the car through the gates. She decided magnanimously to forgive him as sulking was not the best way to start the Christmas break and her mother would notice at once if the atmosphere between them seemed strained.
‘It’s not that grand.’ But she supposed through his eyes it might be. It was only a small-scale country house but the gardens were impressive and in summer were truly spectacular.
She drew the car to a halt on the gravel, pulled on the handbrake and sighed, in no immediate hurry to get out.She needed to take a moment before she faced her mother and the inquisition that would follow.
‘How many staff do they employ?’ Brian clicked open his seatbelt and turned a little to face her.
‘Just two,’ she said defensively. ‘A gardener and Jean who helps Mum in the house a couple of
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