Read Online Second Time Around by Marcia Willett - Free Book Online

face was cold against hers and he wore a thick jersey over his jeans.
    â€˜What a row!’ he said. ‘Is the whole of Kingsbridge here?’
    â€˜I think so.’ She felt so happy she could only smile and smile at him. She was still clutching his arm and he made no move to shake her off.
    â€˜You were very lucky to get a table,’ he told her.
    â€˜Aren’t I clever?’ She grinned at him and his expression softened as he looked down at her. There was that strange feeling of familiarity accompanied by the knowledge that they were, somehow, strangers which excited Isobel and made her heart bump.
    â€˜Very clever,’ he acknowledged. He moved a little away from her and she was obliged to release him. ‘Are we eating?’
    â€˜I thought so.’ Isobel sat down again, glowing with this new happiness. ‘I’ve just come from the shop. It’s been hell today. Everyone ordering books. We’re really busy.’
    â€˜Well, that’s good, surely?’ Simon sat down and picked up the menu. ‘It would be worrying if you weren’t busy two weeks before Christmas. What are you eating?’
    Isobel shrugged. The food was of secondary importance. ‘I think I’ll have some pasta. The seafood tagliatelle is good. What about you?’
    â€˜Steak and kidney pie.’ Simon shut the menu and looked towards the bar. ‘I’d better order if we want it this side of Christmas.’ He glanced at her glass. ‘More wine?’

    Isobel shook her head. ‘Not just yet.’
    She watched him as he fought his way to the bar and then stretched herself with a kind of nervous excitement. She’d been into Rainbow and treated herself to a new outfit she couldn’t afford: a long skirt in soft lambswool and angora with a matching wrapover cardigan which belted tightly round her narrow waist and was worn over a cotton polo-neck jersey in the same earthy shade. The tweedy terracotta colours lent a glow to her paleness and she had been so delighted with the result that she had bought a pair of dark brown leather ankle boots to finish off the ensemble. Her dark hair was loose, held in place with a twisted silk scarf and she felt a delicious sense of luxury and confidence. She sipped her spritzer and saw that her hand trembled a little.
    When Simon returned he was carrying a glass of wine as well as his pint. ‘I decided I would,’ he said, putting it beside her. ‘I’m not sure I can face that again in a hurry.’
    â€˜Very sensible,’ she agreed. ‘So how are you? How’s the play coming on?’
    Simon always produced the sixth-form play at the end of the Christmas term and he was perfectly happy to discuss it at length. They were still talking about it when the food came. Simon unwrapped his knife and fork from their paper napkin and said, ‘Bon appetit ’ and Isobel raised her glass to him and finished her spritzer, revelling in their new-found intimacy. She realised that she had missed lunch and that she was very hungry, and she forked up her pasta with relish. Simon asked after Mathilda and she made light, as she always did, of the strange relationship she had with the old woman in her isolated cove. She told him about Mathilda’s plans to divide her property between her unknown relations and Simon frowned a little.
    â€˜But where would that leave you?’ he asked her. ‘After all, she’s getting on a bit, isn’t she?’
    Isobel felt her nervousness returning. She put down her fork and swallowed back some wine. ‘She says I’ll have the right to stay put,’
she said, trying to sound unconcerned, ‘but it was a bit of a shock. I’ve got to think about it, of course. Have you …? What are your plans? Any news? When’s Helen home?’
    Simon finished his pie and pushed his plate aside. ‘That’s one of the things I wanted to talk about,’ he said.
    He