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

said.
    ‘I’ll be OK.’
    ‘No you won’t. These bags weigh a ton.’
    ‘I got them here from LA.’
    ‘Stop arguing,’ I said. She stopped, just like that. I was amazed. We walked together to the main entrance of the block. It had a certain faded charm. A brass plate informed us that the manager resided in Flat One.
    We pushed through the double glass doors. Flat One was immediately to our left. She rang the doorbell and we waited. After a minute the door opened and a tall, thin man in dark blue overalls peered through the crack.
    ‘My name is Josephine Cass,’ she said. ‘I believe you have a key for me.’
    Josephine, I thought, what a lovely name. I’d have probably thought the same if she’d introduced herself as Adolf. Ain’t love grand?
    The caretaker swallowed what he was chewing and nodded. ‘You’ll be the American lady,’ he said cheerfully. She nodded in reply. ‘Right here, Miss.’ He produced a ring containing two keys from his voluminous back pocket. ‘Do you want me to show you? I’m just eating my lunch, see.’
    ‘No problem,’ I interjected, and reached over and took the keys from between his fingers. ‘What number?’
    ‘Twelve, third floor.’
    ‘I’ll handle it,’ I said.
    ‘Can you sign for the keys?’ he asked.
    ‘Sure,’ replied Josephine.
    He hesitated, torn between lunch and business. ‘I tell you what,’ he said, ‘I’ll finish here and bring up the paperwork. You’ll be in for a bit?’
    ‘Not long,’ I cut in. ‘We’re going out for something to eat ourselves soon.’
    Josephine looked amazed.
    ‘I’ll be right up,’ said the caretaker, ‘just to make sure everything is working all right.’
    ‘Thanks,’ I said, and we left him to his food.
    After he’d closed his door, Josephine said, ‘Thanks for taking over my life. Next time I need a father-figure I’ll be sure to give you a call.’
    ‘Any time,’ I said. ‘Josephine.’
    ‘You’re unbelievable. “We’re going out for something to eat ourselves soon,”’ she mimicked me.
    ‘I consider myself reprimanded,’ I said.
    She smiled, ‘I don’t mind really,’ she said. ‘It’s a relief not to have to worry.’
    I smiled to myself.
    ‘But don’t get any big ideas.’
    ‘I promise,’ I lied. ‘Come on, let’s look at your new digs.’
    I hauled the cases over to the tiny lift. I swear they were getting heavier. The four of us squeezed into the tiny box. I slid the metal doors closed, pressed 3 and we chugged upwards. It felt good being confined with her in the lift. I breathed in her perfume and fought off the temptation to grin stupidly.
    The lift staggered to a halt on the third floor and I shoved the doors open and manhandled her cases over to the door of flat Twelve. She experimented with the keys and we let ourselves in. The air was cold and still and smelt of old mothballs.
    ‘We need heat,’ she said.
    ‘I’ll fix it.’
    I found a door in the wall and pulled it open. Inside were the gas and electricity meters, the water stopcock and the central heating controls. I tried to look efficient and pushed a few likely-looking buttons. I heard a muted clang and gurgle of water. I switched the timer to ‘24 Hours’ and hoped for the best.
    ‘No problem,’ I said optimistically.
    We left the cases in the hall and walked through the flat, turning on the lights as we went. It wasn’t a bad place. Two bedrooms, living-and dining-room, kitchen, bathroom, separate WC, gas central heating and less than forty minutes to the West End.
    In the kitchen the fridge was turned off and the door stood open.
    ‘No snacks here,’ I said. ‘Let’s lunch.’
    ‘I’m tired out,’ Josephine replied.
    ‘Look,’ I said. ‘You’re going to need some shopping. I’ll show you where there’s a supermarket, and there’s a boozer less than five minutes away that does a great lunch.’
    ‘I’m not kidding. I’m really tired,’ she protested.
    ‘I’ll drop you straight back and you can