Read Online Christmas at Claridge's by Karen Swan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Swan
Ads: Link
aisle, aware of his gaze upon her back. Why had she thrown that damned piece of popcorn? Why couldn’t she just have sat
quietly in the cinema like a normal person instead of starting a food fight with strangers across the room?
‘All right? I’m Jake, he’s Oscar,’ the taller one said to her as she approached, appraising her with lively hazel eyes; she could tell it was his grin she’d seen in
the dark. Stella was already in full flirt mode with his friend – a Matt Damon lookalike but with a goatee and thighs like thunder.
‘Clem,’ she muttered as Jake reached for her hand and gallantly kissed it.
‘Well, Clem, let’s go and find some real fun, shall we?’
He held the door open for her and Clem hesitated for a moment. She looked back at the Swimmer. He was holding his beautiful girlfriend’s face in his hands, cupping her like a flower, as if
she was the only woman on the planet, much less in this room. Then his lips were upon hers, the door swung shut and once again Clem found herself spun out of his orbit.
The following morning it was so cold that Clem’s breath hung like bridges in the air, leaving a trail of ghostly suspensions behind her as she ran, soft-footed, through
the sand paths of Hyde Park. To her right, the No.12 bus was pacing her along the Bayswater Road, and she was gradually gaining on the Queen’s Household Cavalry, who were out for their early
morning drills, the red-plumes from their helmets bouncing bonnily their brassware clattering and steam rising from the flanks of their mighty horses.
She reached the path that turned right towards the Serpentine and accelerated, feeling last night’s alcohol dissipate like spirits in the mist. Stella had long since given up trying to
stay abreast of her. They did everything together but this. Where Stella ran to lose weight, Clem ran to . . . well, she didn’t really have a reason for it. It was a physical need. She just
did it because she could. This was the one thing she was truly good at. And for the record, she didn’t jog, she ran – hard and fast, as though, if she felt like it, she might not
stop.
Jake had still been sleeping when she’d left, but she knew he’d be grateful to her for slipping out early and discreetly. He’d been fun. They’d ended up drinking
cocktails and chaser shots at the Portobello Star, as he’d determinedly jollied her out of her sulk. Her parting image of the Swimmer kissing his girlfriend had messed with her, and
she’d spent much of the first hour wondering whether the charge that surged between them was a figment of her imagination. Then the alcohol had kicked in and everything had settled down into
that familiar, dreamy blur that she knew so well and she’d stopped thinking about anything much at all, other than dealing with what was in front of her.
She sped around the Serpentine and back towards the Italian Gardens, hurdling athletically over a buggy that suddenly appeared from behind the café wall, and overtaking a posse of women
in orange BMF bibs being shouted out by a commando. By the time she caught sight of Stella ahead of her, fifty minutes later, she’d run three times as far as her friend on half the
breath.
Clem laughed as she watched her jogging alongside the cavalry on their way back to the barracks, talking in vain to one of the soldiers atop an 18-hand horse who, in spite of his raging desire
to talk to the bosomy brunette, was gloomily bound to regimental silence.
‘Give it up, Stell!’ she called, sitting on the back of a park bench, and motioning for her to come over. ‘He’ll have to clean the loos with a toothbrush for a month if
he even looks at you.’
Stella jogged over slowly, holding an overflowing bosom in each hand. ‘Shame. He looked good in brass,’ she panted as she got closer.
Clem chuckled, wiping her hair away from her face and drinking greedily from her water bottle.
‘You were off like a rocket today,’ Stella remarked once
quietly in the cinema like a normal person instead of starting a food fight with strangers across the room?
‘All right? I’m Jake, he’s Oscar,’ the taller one said to her as she approached, appraising her with lively hazel eyes; she could tell it was his grin she’d seen in
the dark. Stella was already in full flirt mode with his friend – a Matt Damon lookalike but with a goatee and thighs like thunder.
‘Clem,’ she muttered as Jake reached for her hand and gallantly kissed it.
‘Well, Clem, let’s go and find some real fun, shall we?’
He held the door open for her and Clem hesitated for a moment. She looked back at the Swimmer. He was holding his beautiful girlfriend’s face in his hands, cupping her like a flower, as if
she was the only woman on the planet, much less in this room. Then his lips were upon hers, the door swung shut and once again Clem found herself spun out of his orbit.
The following morning it was so cold that Clem’s breath hung like bridges in the air, leaving a trail of ghostly suspensions behind her as she ran, soft-footed, through
the sand paths of Hyde Park. To her right, the No.12 bus was pacing her along the Bayswater Road, and she was gradually gaining on the Queen’s Household Cavalry, who were out for their early
morning drills, the red-plumes from their helmets bouncing bonnily their brassware clattering and steam rising from the flanks of their mighty horses.
She reached the path that turned right towards the Serpentine and accelerated, feeling last night’s alcohol dissipate like spirits in the mist. Stella had long since given up trying to
stay abreast of her. They did everything together but this. Where Stella ran to lose weight, Clem ran to . . . well, she didn’t really have a reason for it. It was a physical need. She just
did it because she could. This was the one thing she was truly good at. And for the record, she didn’t jog, she ran – hard and fast, as though, if she felt like it, she might not
stop.
Jake had still been sleeping when she’d left, but she knew he’d be grateful to her for slipping out early and discreetly. He’d been fun. They’d ended up drinking
cocktails and chaser shots at the Portobello Star, as he’d determinedly jollied her out of her sulk. Her parting image of the Swimmer kissing his girlfriend had messed with her, and
she’d spent much of the first hour wondering whether the charge that surged between them was a figment of her imagination. Then the alcohol had kicked in and everything had settled down into
that familiar, dreamy blur that she knew so well and she’d stopped thinking about anything much at all, other than dealing with what was in front of her.
She sped around the Serpentine and back towards the Italian Gardens, hurdling athletically over a buggy that suddenly appeared from behind the café wall, and overtaking a posse of women
in orange BMF bibs being shouted out by a commando. By the time she caught sight of Stella ahead of her, fifty minutes later, she’d run three times as far as her friend on half the
breath.
Clem laughed as she watched her jogging alongside the cavalry on their way back to the barracks, talking in vain to one of the soldiers atop an 18-hand horse who, in spite of his raging desire
to talk to the bosomy brunette, was gloomily bound to regimental silence.
‘Give it up, Stell!’ she called, sitting on the back of a park bench, and motioning for her to come over. ‘He’ll have to clean the loos with a toothbrush for a month if
he even looks at you.’
Stella jogged over slowly, holding an overflowing bosom in each hand. ‘Shame. He looked good in brass,’ she panted as she got closer.
Clem chuckled, wiping her hair away from her face and drinking greedily from her water bottle.
‘You were off like a rocket today,’ Stella remarked once
Similar Books
