Read Online More Than You Know by Penny Vincenzi - Free Book Online

and Pa pay, but Eliza and I see him on the National Health. Say you’re in pain and you’ll get in tomorrow. Damn, now I can’t find his number. Stay there and I’ll go and ring Eliza. There’s a phone box right outside. Don’t drink my beer; there’s a good chap.”
    It was Charles who was the good chap, Matt thought—even if he did call his mother Mummy.
    Charles came back smiling.
    “Here’s the number. Frobisher 7592. Mr. Cole. Now, you must go, Matt, no chickening out. Promise.”
    “I promise,” said Matt. “Er—how is your sister, by the way?”
    He had never forgotten Eliza that day at Waterloo Station.
    “She’s absolutely fine, thanks. She’s got a fantastic job, actually. In the public relations department for Woolfe’s. Always hobnobbing with journalists, buying them lunches. Seems to be a lot of fun.”
    “She’s not married then?” said Matt. It seemed important to know.
    “Good lord, no. Not yet. She’s in love with her job. And she just says no man could possibly compete with that.”
    “Really?” said Matt. Eliza must have met some very dull men, if that was her view.
    “Yes. Anyway, you can see her for yourself. She’s at her flat, and she said we could go round.”
    “Oh,” said Matt. His toothache suddenly seemed inconsequential. “But she won’t want to see me, surely.”
    “She remembered you. Said she’d love it, that we’d be doing her a favor. And that she could pretend you were her boyfriend if any of the others got back.”
    “Yeah, right. I bet I’m exactly like one of her boyfriends.”
    “Don’t be so touchy, Matt. I’ve told you before. All that stuff is over. Eliza was telling me the other day lots of the people in the fashion world are really … really …”
    His voice trailed off. Matt looked at him.
    “Really working-class? Is that what you mean?” He grinned at Charles. “It’s OK; I know my place.”
    “Matt, for God’s sake, you don’t have a place.”
    “OK,” said Matt easily, “if that’s what you think.”
    “I do. Anyway, I’m only telling you what Eliza says. Come on, Matt, knock that chip off your shoulder and come and see Eliza with me.”

    Eliza opened the door to them wearing a pair of calf-length jeans and a very large white shirt. Her feet were bare; her dark hair tumbled onto her shoulders. And as she leaned forward to kiss Charles and then, slightly tentatively, Matt, laughing as she did so, there was a wave of some infinitely delicious warm scent. She looked perfectly beautiful, and Matt, finding himself suddenly invaded by a violence of feeling that came somewhere between pleasure and distinct physical weakness, wondered rather feebly if this was like falling in love.
    They were still talking at midnight as the other girls and their braying boyfriends came and went. Matt listened, hardly speaking, but committing everything that he could to memory: Eliza’s voice, her smile, her lovely hands, which she waved about as she talked, the way she sat with one long leg curled under her, the way she laughed, teased Charles,managed to appear interested in what few things Matt managed to say. He stayed and stayed and would have been still there in the morning, had not Charles told him they really should leave, and with infinite reluctance Matt said good-bye to her and was kissed again and told how lovely it had been for Eliza to see him after all this time, and then walked all the way home from Kensington to Clapham, the tube being closed; almost two hours it took, and he was happy to do so, for he could live and relive the evening without interruption, replaying every moment.
    And thinking that he could set up in competition with her job, no problem, he was sure of that. If he ever got the chance, which was pretty bloody unlikely.
    In fact, much more likely, he would never see her again.

    “Charles? It’s me. Look—a friend of mine makes the most fabulous jumpers and things; she’s looking for a studio/workshop. Would