Read Online Enchantment by Monica Dickens - Free Book Online Page A

quite different.
    â€˜I was wondering.’
    Tim took a deep breath and said it when they came out of Mr D.’s office together, after morning clothes brushing and collar straightening and Orders of the Day: ‘Linens are going to be big this summer. When customers come in looking for cotton prints and nylon dress fabric, it’s worth calling their attention to the pastel linens. Demonstrate the crush-proof qualities.’ Mr D. made a crumpling movement with his hand, then fixed them with a no-nonsense eye. ‘But be sure it’s non-crush before you do that.’
    â€˜I was wondering, Gail – er, Gail.’
    â€˜Use her name often,’
Pocket Pickups
advised, ‘as if you like the sound of it.’
    â€˜You were wondering, Tim – er, Tim?’
    â€˜Yes. I’ve got a car now, well, it’s my sister’s, really, but I’ve got it for six months.’
    â€˜That’s nice,’ Gail said brightly.
    â€˜Yes. And I was wondering if you – I mean, if you’d like to …’
    She did not help him. She stood there outside Mr D.’s office with her head on one side and a slight smile hiding whatever she was thinking.
    â€˜I mean – I know you go out and I’m sure you’ve got loads of men, but perhaps you’d come – perhaps you’d have the time –’
    â€˜Ten past nine.’ She looked through the glass door of the office at the clock on the wall, then back at Tim, with a grin.
    â€˜Don’t, Gail. I’m saying, would you like to come for a drive sometime?’
    She looked him quickly up and down. She was taller than Tim, and she made it clear that there wasn’t far to look.
    â€˜Sorry,’ she said shortly.
    â€˜Why not?’ Don’t blush, don’t blush.
    â€˜You must be joking.’
    He saw now that it was inevitable she should say that. It was one of those retorts available on a plate for a girl like Gail who could not even find an original remark to hurt you with.
    Take off her head at the Tower, Harold. Tim pushed past Gail and walked ahead of her to an early customer at the rack of glazed chintz curtains with triple pleated headings.
    â€˜Can I help you, madam?’
    So it would have to be Helen Brown. He had known that all along, and he had nothing against her, except that Val would take all the credit if he asked her out.
    He did not know where Helen lived. He only knew that she worked at the Hall School. Something to do with the kitchen. He would go down there and look for her. What time would she come out? He could just see himself hanging about outside the chainlink fence and getting arrested as a child pornographer.
    He thought about Helen, imagining her as better than she really was. He had to pretend that she was better than Gail. When he had worked her up into something quite passable, he took courage and asked Valerie where he could find her.
    â€˜I promised I’d lend your friend Helen Brown a book,’ he said, when he went round to Val and Colin’s place for a Sunday morning coffee. If you telephoned Val, she was always rushing off somewhere, or putting a meal on the table, and ringing off before you had said what you wanted.
    â€˜A book?’ Her vampire’s top teeth had been filed down and pulled back years ago, but she could still make them stick out over her chin when she wanted. ‘You and she talked about books?’ Val read books, you see, Val and Colin did. No one read books but them.
    â€˜She was interested in this particular book.’
    â€˜What book is that?’
    â€˜It’s – well, it’s about poetry.’
    â€˜
Poetry?
Helen Brown? She must have been putting you on. What else did she talk about? Did she talk about her son?’
    â€˜No. Should she have?’
    â€˜Oh no. No,’ Val said airily.
    In the end, Val gave Helen’s address to Tim. She had no phone, but a neighbour took messages. Tim took the