Read Online Romeo's Tune (1990) by Mark Timlin - Free Book Online Page A

language in front of a lady.’
    ‘Sorry,’ I said again.
    Then she laughed and I did too, but mine was kind of forced.
    ‘Don’t be,’ she said.
    ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.
    ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’
    We were getting nowhere fast and I said so.
    ‘This is getting us nowhere fast.’
    ‘Correct.’
    ‘So why not just let me help? You’re a stranger around here by the looks of it and I’ve got nothing better to do. Let’s just call it British hospitality. Hands across the sea and all that stuff.’
    ‘I wonder how hospitable you’d be if I was sixty years old with a walking frame.’
    ‘Fortunately we’ll never know,’ I replied. ‘Anyway, if you get a cab round here, with your accent, they’ll charge you for the scenic route, like via Hendon.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Never mind. So where are you going?’
    ‘I’ve rented an apartment somewhere round here. I’ve come over to England to study.’ She caught my look. ‘Postgrad,’ she explained. ‘English history at London University.’
    ‘Brains, too,’ I said.
    Her lavender eyes flashed. ‘Don’t give me that old crap, I don’t need that,’ she snapped.
    ‘Hey, I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking.’
    ‘Me too,’ she said wearily. ‘Sorry, I mean. I’m dead tired, I seem to have been travelling forever.’
    ‘Where did you come from?’
    ‘Today? I mean yesterday, Jesus I don’t even know what day it is. I flew in from LA, but I come from New Jersey. I was visiting some friends to say au revoir.’
    ‘So where’s the apartment?’ I asked.
    She capitulated. She opened her handbag which was hanging by a strap from her shoulder and pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘Here,’ she said, passing it to me. I unfolded the sheet and took a squint.
    ‘Lancaster Avenue,’ I read out loud. ‘No problem, it’s just down the road.’
    ‘I’ll walk.’
    ‘Just too far,’ I countered, picking up one of her bags. She didn’t object and followed me over to the E-type. I opened the hatchback and tossed the bag in. It was pretty heavy, but she’d carried it and I wanted to impress her with my manly strength. I took the other bag from her and stored it with its twin.
    ‘Hop in,’ I invited. We both headed for the driver’s door.
    ‘Wrong side,’ I explained. ‘You’re in old England now.’
    ‘Oh yeah, I forgot you guys are still in the dark ages.’
    ‘English history,’ I said.
    She flashed her pearly whites in a brilliant smile that lit up her face under the tiredness and said, ‘Just kidding.’ We climbed aboard and I started the engine with a roar from the twin exhausts. I snicked the gear stick into reverse and pulled out of my parking space with a squeal of rubber. Into drive and away. I turned left at the main road under the nose of a one-man bus, adding significantly to the driver’s stress level and shot away. I was showing off but I didn’t care. She seemed impervious as I gunned through the amber at the first set of traffic lights and burnt off a hopeful XR3i. We wheeled up to the next set of lights which were red, and when they changed turned left into Lancaster Avenue. I pointed to a purpose-built, red-brick block of flats hiding behind a high hedge about fifty yards down on our right.
    ‘There you go,’ I said. I pulled into the drive and slid the car to a halt on the gravel surface.
    ‘Next time I’ll bring a crash helmet,’ she remarked drily.
    ‘So there’s going to be a next time?’ I asked.
    ‘I doubt it.’ She opened the door and stepped out. I joined her on the path and extracted her cases from the back of the car. The bags were just as heavy as before.
    ‘What’s in here?’ I asked. ‘The family silver?’
    She shot me a sour look.
    ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘No offence meant.’
    ‘None taken.’
    ‘Got a key?’ I enquired.
    ‘It’s with the concierge.’
    Nice word, I thought, for a poxy caretaker.
    ‘Let’s find him then,’ I