Read Online No Place For a Man by Judy Astley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Judy Astley
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really is? Has he run away from home or something?’
‘He didn’t actually say. He mostly wanted to talk about me. Ask me stuff, what I do and that.’ It had been incredibly flattering, she recalled. He’d seemed really interested in her as a person . Boys from St Dominic’s told you stuff about themselves, or more precisely about what they owned in terms of computers and CDs and things. Never, at any of the parties she’d been to or down the Costa coffee shop or anywhere, had she had anyone asking her what she liked doing most on Sunday mornings, or what was her idea of the perfect breakfast. She’d been so astounded, she’d almost spoilt it by asking why on earth he’d want to know those things. Just in time she’d thought about it, realized that if she was seeing somebody, properly, they were the kind of things she’d be wanting to know about him.
‘Sounds like he’s really interested.’ Claire was gratifyingly encouraging, ‘So he’ll turn up again, bound to. He might hang about outside the school waiting for you then I can get a look at him.’
Natasha giggled. ‘Yeah he might I suppose and that’s OK but not knowing when or where I’ll see him means it’s a bit of an effort: I’ve got to keep the make-up on and my hair looking good all the time .’
‘You’re right.’ Claire sighed. ‘Whatever happened togood old-fashioned dating: he stays home then phones you, you spend two hours getting ready and then you meet like in Clueless or Sabrina ? Bit of a strain, but you can do it.’
Jess trailed home on the tube feeling sour and grumpy and tried to tell herself that she should, instead, simply be grateful. At least she’d still got her job. It seemed to be down to her to make sure she kept this new version of it, try to guess what was needed, find the right voice. At least Paula hadn’t just fired her, said, with only mildly apologetic flippancy, ‘Sorry darling, but you know how it is, plus ça change and all that! Younger readers to target!’ A few Sundays from now, if the worst had happened, she could have opened the Comfort Zone magazine and found make-up tips from Britney Spears or ‘Going for Broke: the toddlers’ guide to dot.com investment’ on the page where her column used to be. It might be fun doing this new stuff, she told herself as she turned off the main road into the Grove. At any other time it definitely would be fun, going out to sample a delicious (and possibly not so delicious) array of new activities. If only she wasn’t feeling so much as if life was in a state of complete upheaval. It had never occurred to her before just how much she relied on the comforting security of routine. I am not a born adventurer, she thought as she reached her gate. I could no more take off to the unknown, all alone like Oliver has, than I could take up Formula One racing.
As she opened the door, Jess almost tripped over a sleeping baby in a buggy parked in the hall. The sound of deep male laughter erupted from the sitting room, but the baby stirred only faintly as if it was well usedto such minor irritations. Inside, Matthew, Micky and Eddy were sprawled untidily over the conservatory sofas with Donald the cat, looking ludicrously thrilled to be allowed to join the Blokes, draped round Eddy’s shoulders, kneading his paws into his long hair and drooling over his ear. In front of them on the low table was a selection of coffee mugs and empty Budweiser bottles. A packet of Natasha’s favourite chocolate Hobnobs was tipped among the empties, leaving chunky crumbs among the debris. An overflowing ashtray completed the mess and the air reeked of stale smoke, some of which smelled headily illegal. They were worse than Oliver, she thought crossly as they greeted her, waving and grinning guiltily like naughty schoolchildren caught skiving maths.
‘Hello Jess!’ Matt got up and hugged her exuberantly as if he hadn’t seen her for a month. ‘We’ve got a great plan! We’re going to
‘He didn’t actually say. He mostly wanted to talk about me. Ask me stuff, what I do and that.’ It had been incredibly flattering, she recalled. He’d seemed really interested in her as a person . Boys from St Dominic’s told you stuff about themselves, or more precisely about what they owned in terms of computers and CDs and things. Never, at any of the parties she’d been to or down the Costa coffee shop or anywhere, had she had anyone asking her what she liked doing most on Sunday mornings, or what was her idea of the perfect breakfast. She’d been so astounded, she’d almost spoilt it by asking why on earth he’d want to know those things. Just in time she’d thought about it, realized that if she was seeing somebody, properly, they were the kind of things she’d be wanting to know about him.
‘Sounds like he’s really interested.’ Claire was gratifyingly encouraging, ‘So he’ll turn up again, bound to. He might hang about outside the school waiting for you then I can get a look at him.’
Natasha giggled. ‘Yeah he might I suppose and that’s OK but not knowing when or where I’ll see him means it’s a bit of an effort: I’ve got to keep the make-up on and my hair looking good all the time .’
‘You’re right.’ Claire sighed. ‘Whatever happened togood old-fashioned dating: he stays home then phones you, you spend two hours getting ready and then you meet like in Clueless or Sabrina ? Bit of a strain, but you can do it.’
Jess trailed home on the tube feeling sour and grumpy and tried to tell herself that she should, instead, simply be grateful. At least she’d still got her job. It seemed to be down to her to make sure she kept this new version of it, try to guess what was needed, find the right voice. At least Paula hadn’t just fired her, said, with only mildly apologetic flippancy, ‘Sorry darling, but you know how it is, plus ça change and all that! Younger readers to target!’ A few Sundays from now, if the worst had happened, she could have opened the Comfort Zone magazine and found make-up tips from Britney Spears or ‘Going for Broke: the toddlers’ guide to dot.com investment’ on the page where her column used to be. It might be fun doing this new stuff, she told herself as she turned off the main road into the Grove. At any other time it definitely would be fun, going out to sample a delicious (and possibly not so delicious) array of new activities. If only she wasn’t feeling so much as if life was in a state of complete upheaval. It had never occurred to her before just how much she relied on the comforting security of routine. I am not a born adventurer, she thought as she reached her gate. I could no more take off to the unknown, all alone like Oliver has, than I could take up Formula One racing.
As she opened the door, Jess almost tripped over a sleeping baby in a buggy parked in the hall. The sound of deep male laughter erupted from the sitting room, but the baby stirred only faintly as if it was well usedto such minor irritations. Inside, Matthew, Micky and Eddy were sprawled untidily over the conservatory sofas with Donald the cat, looking ludicrously thrilled to be allowed to join the Blokes, draped round Eddy’s shoulders, kneading his paws into his long hair and drooling over his ear. In front of them on the low table was a selection of coffee mugs and empty Budweiser bottles. A packet of Natasha’s favourite chocolate Hobnobs was tipped among the empties, leaving chunky crumbs among the debris. An overflowing ashtray completed the mess and the air reeked of stale smoke, some of which smelled headily illegal. They were worse than Oliver, she thought crossly as they greeted her, waving and grinning guiltily like naughty schoolchildren caught skiving maths.
‘Hello Jess!’ Matt got up and hugged her exuberantly as if he hadn’t seen her for a month. ‘We’ve got a great plan! We’re going to
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