Read Online Cupid's Way by Joanne Phillips - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Joanne Phillips
Tags: Fiction
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alcohol’s a good idea when tempers are running high.’ She turned to gauge her gran’s reaction, but Mavis had retreated into the food tent. How very convenient.
‘Or temperatures,’ Zac added. ‘There were more than a few people getting hot under the collar in there.’
‘I don’t blame them.’ Evie regarded Zac thoughtfully while he was distracted by two children running in circles around them. She wondered about his take on the new development. It sounded like there was money to be made out of selling up – she was realistic enough to know that not everyone would be as attached to their homes as her grandparents.
She said, ‘So, what do you …’ at the exact moment Zac turned to her and said, ‘Mavis says you’re …’ They both stopped and smiled.
‘You first,’ Zac said with a gallant wave of his arm.
‘I was just going to ask what you think of the plans. Will you sell up?’
Zac’s blue eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘Sell out more like! I thought that was what this little gathering was all about – fighting the good fight. I don’t think anyone is planning on selling.’
‘Really?’ Evie pursed her lips and looked around. Bob Peacock and his wife Freda were leaning against the wall of their joined-together houses, looking bored. Sarah Lowrie and Tim were talking to Mavis, who was standing guard over her stack of cupcakes. There was no sign of Rolo Peacock, Bob’s dad, but Evie had noticed Stig milling about, wearing his trademark dirty tweed jacket and red neckerchief. Evie smiled to herself, remembering how the kids in the street had pretended to be scared of the crazy old man who lived at the end of the row. She couldn’t for the life of her remember why they called him Stig.
All of these people had lived in Cupid’s Way for most, if not all, of their lives. But there were others milling around Evie didn’t recognise.
‘Who are they?’ she asked Zac, pointing to a couple warming themselves by the chimenea. ‘They look like they could do with a good meal.’
Zac laughed. ‘They’re our resident hippies, Pip and Cissy. They live in the end house, opposite your folks.’
‘Ah, the renters.’ For as long as Evie could remember, the houses at the end of the row had been rented out. Someone called Mrs Reid had bought numbers ten and twelve years ago but had never lived in them; instead she rented them to various friends or family members, and in the nineteen eighties they had been knocked together to make one big house and, as far as Evie knew, sold on. The people who lived there were always called “the renters”, as though the residents of Cupid’s Way could barely be bothered to learn and memorise their real names. She looked at Pip and Cissy, taking in their tie-dyed flowing tops and matching blue jeans with frayed hems. It wasn’t hard to see why Zac referred to them as hippies.
‘I had noticed the wind chimes outside their house,’ she told Zac.
‘Noticed as in they drive you insane when you’re trying to get to sleep?’ he said, flashing her another smile. She nodded and laughed, then remembered that Zac had been about to ask her a question.
‘What were you going to say before? When we interrupted each other?’
Zac gestured to the food table and Evie followed. He picked up a cupcake and passed it to her. Mavis beamed.
‘Your gorgeous gran here told me you’re an architect,’ he said. Evie forced a smile, then stuffed her cake into her mouth, thus removing the need to answer yes or no.
‘What do you think of this lot?’ He waved his arm and took in the McAllister building looming above them and the sparkling facade of the retail park. ‘Good architecture?’
‘Blot on the bloody landscape and everyone knows it,’ Frank called from behind his keg. ‘You wouldn’t have anything to do with that kind of architecture, would you, Evie?’
Evie smiled and reached for another cake. This conversation was doing no favours to her sanity, or her
‘Or temperatures,’ Zac added. ‘There were more than a few people getting hot under the collar in there.’
‘I don’t blame them.’ Evie regarded Zac thoughtfully while he was distracted by two children running in circles around them. She wondered about his take on the new development. It sounded like there was money to be made out of selling up – she was realistic enough to know that not everyone would be as attached to their homes as her grandparents.
She said, ‘So, what do you …’ at the exact moment Zac turned to her and said, ‘Mavis says you’re …’ They both stopped and smiled.
‘You first,’ Zac said with a gallant wave of his arm.
‘I was just going to ask what you think of the plans. Will you sell up?’
Zac’s blue eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘Sell out more like! I thought that was what this little gathering was all about – fighting the good fight. I don’t think anyone is planning on selling.’
‘Really?’ Evie pursed her lips and looked around. Bob Peacock and his wife Freda were leaning against the wall of their joined-together houses, looking bored. Sarah Lowrie and Tim were talking to Mavis, who was standing guard over her stack of cupcakes. There was no sign of Rolo Peacock, Bob’s dad, but Evie had noticed Stig milling about, wearing his trademark dirty tweed jacket and red neckerchief. Evie smiled to herself, remembering how the kids in the street had pretended to be scared of the crazy old man who lived at the end of the row. She couldn’t for the life of her remember why they called him Stig.
All of these people had lived in Cupid’s Way for most, if not all, of their lives. But there were others milling around Evie didn’t recognise.
‘Who are they?’ she asked Zac, pointing to a couple warming themselves by the chimenea. ‘They look like they could do with a good meal.’
Zac laughed. ‘They’re our resident hippies, Pip and Cissy. They live in the end house, opposite your folks.’
‘Ah, the renters.’ For as long as Evie could remember, the houses at the end of the row had been rented out. Someone called Mrs Reid had bought numbers ten and twelve years ago but had never lived in them; instead she rented them to various friends or family members, and in the nineteen eighties they had been knocked together to make one big house and, as far as Evie knew, sold on. The people who lived there were always called “the renters”, as though the residents of Cupid’s Way could barely be bothered to learn and memorise their real names. She looked at Pip and Cissy, taking in their tie-dyed flowing tops and matching blue jeans with frayed hems. It wasn’t hard to see why Zac referred to them as hippies.
‘I had noticed the wind chimes outside their house,’ she told Zac.
‘Noticed as in they drive you insane when you’re trying to get to sleep?’ he said, flashing her another smile. She nodded and laughed, then remembered that Zac had been about to ask her a question.
‘What were you going to say before? When we interrupted each other?’
Zac gestured to the food table and Evie followed. He picked up a cupcake and passed it to her. Mavis beamed.
‘Your gorgeous gran here told me you’re an architect,’ he said. Evie forced a smile, then stuffed her cake into her mouth, thus removing the need to answer yes or no.
‘What do you think of this lot?’ He waved his arm and took in the McAllister building looming above them and the sparkling facade of the retail park. ‘Good architecture?’
‘Blot on the bloody landscape and everyone knows it,’ Frank called from behind his keg. ‘You wouldn’t have anything to do with that kind of architecture, would you, Evie?’
Evie smiled and reached for another cake. This conversation was doing no favours to her sanity, or her
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