Read Online Narrow Minds by Marie Browne - Free Book Online

Timbuktu so what exactly is the big problem here?’
    â€˜It used to be like that.’ I sighed and took a sip of scalding coffee. ‘And it’s really odd, I have no problems with the people from Durham, or Darlington or even Newcastle, they seem to be welcoming, chatty and just generally nice, pretty much like people all over the country.’ I paused for a moment. ‘But this village is like flaming anti-Stepford, the women at school are still not speaking to me.’ I shook my head. ‘That sounds really pathetic I know, it’s not that I need them to like me but they won’t even acknowledge that I’m standing there, and if one of them is talking to Mickey and I go and talk to her, the other women will walk away, it really is getting ridiculous.’
    Geoff snorted and looked dubious.
    I took another sip of coffee and stared into the fire. ‘There was a woman standing about three feet from me yesterday and she was talking to her friend about how proud she was that she was umpteenth generation to live in the same house and that her grandfather had never gone further than ten miles out of the village his whole life. She said that she didn’t understand why these people needed to move all over the country and take houses that locals could have.
    They kept looking at me as they were talking then giggling, honestly it’s really basic schoolyard bullying I couldn’t care less about them or their stupid village; let’s face it, what’s here? A big fat nothing, but it does get really wearing.’
    Geoff shook his head. ‘Are you sure you’re not just being paranoid?’ He stretched his feet towards the fire. ‘Most people I come in contact with are lovely.’
    â€˜You’re never actually here,’ I moaned. ‘Let’s face it, if a heavy fog came down I wouldn’t dare enter the centre of the village because there is a huge and real possibility that if you tried to walk through the fog you’d end up in the Newcastle version of bloody Brigadoon or in Limbo where all the dead stand in silence and wait for judgement day.’ I pulled a spooky face and wiggled my fingers at him. ‘Wooooooo!’ Standing up, I wandered toward the table. ‘You spend most of your time in Durham City or over near Middlesbrough. I wish we’d never sold Happy Go Lucky and I wish we’d never come up here.’ I paused for a moment, concentrating on sorting through that day’s copious post; three bills, a letter from Charlie’s school and seven pieces that looked as though they held ‘fantastic’ deals that I probably shouldn’t miss out on. I blinked rapidly as the addresses on the letters suddenly began to swim in sad water. ‘This place will never, ever be home.’
    At the beginning of April we did have one piece of mail that was actually good news. Expecting exciting books from Amazon, I was actually waiting for the postman that morning. At the sound of an engine I dragged myself off the sofa with a grin. Listening to the car pull up outside our door I frowned, that certainly didn’t sound like the post van. A well-tuned engine throbbed for a couple of seconds then faded to silence. I peered out of the window at the shiny, sapphire blue Freelander that sat on the gravel. A tall, well-built, middle-aged man climbed out, his shorts and sandals marking him as a tourist, and, straightening his multi-pocketed jacket, he headed for the door.
    I beat him to it and he looked fairly surprised as I stuck my head out and grinned at his still-raised hand. ‘Hello, can I help you?’
    He lowered his hand and gave me a charming smile.
    Maybe I was wrong, maybe he wasn’t a tourist, if he was selling something he was going to be sorely disappointed so I pursed my lips, crossed my arms, raised an eyebrow at him, then waited for the sales spiel to start.
    â€˜Hello,’ he said and gave me another dazzling