Read Online The Book of Tomorrow by Cecelia Ahern - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cecelia Ahern
Tags: Fiction
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didn’t. Instead there was silence. There wasn’t a peep upstairs from Mum. The doorbell rang again and so I placed the photo album down on the table, and made my way to the front door, the house feeling a little more like home as I did so.
Through the obscure stained glass, I could tell it was a man. When I opened the door, I saw it was a gorgeous man. Early twenties, I guessed, dark brown hair gelled straight up in the front, just like his polo-shirt collar. He could well be a rugby boy. He looked me up and down, and smiled.
‘Hi,’ he said, and his smile revealed perfectly straight white teeth. He had stubble all around his jaw, his eyes were bright blue. In his hand was a clipboard with a chart attached.
‘Hi,’ I said, arching my back as I leaned in against the door.
‘Sir Ignatius?’ he asked.
I smiled. ‘Not I.’
‘Is there a Sir Ignatius Power in this house?’
‘Not at the moment. He’s out fox hunting with Lord Casper.’
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘When will he be back?’
‘After he’s caught the fox, I assume.’
‘Hmm…’ he nodded slowly and looked about him. ‘Are the foxes fast around here?’
‘You’re obviously not from around here. Everybody knows about the foxes here.’
‘Hmm. Indeed I’m not.’
I bit my lip and tried not to smile.
‘So he might be a long time?’ he smiled, sensing I was waning.
‘He might be a very long time.’
‘I see.’
He leaned against the porch pillar and stared at me.
‘What?’ I said defensively, feeling like I was melting under his gaze.
‘Seriously.’
‘Seriously, what?’
‘Does he live anywhere around here, at all?’
‘Definitely not behind these gates.’
‘What are you then?’
‘I’m a Goodwin.’
‘I’m sure you are, but what’s your surname?’
I tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it.
‘Cheesy, I know, sorry,’ he apologised good-heartedly, then looked confused as he consulted his chart and scratched his head, making it even more tousled.
I looked over his shoulder and saw a white bus, with ‘The Travelling Library’ emblazoned across the side.
He finally looked up from his clipboard. ‘Okay then, I’m definitely lost. There’s no Goodwin on this list.’
‘Oh, it wouldn’t be under my name.’ Byrne was my mother’s maiden name, my uncle Arthur’s surname and the name this house would be under. Arthur and Rosaleen Byrne. Jennifer Byrne—it didn’t sound right. It felt like my mum should always have been a Goodwin.
‘So this must be the Kilsaney residence?’ he said hopefully, looking up from his chart.
‘Ah, the Kilsaneys,’ I said, and he looked relieved. ‘They’re the next house on the left, just through the trees,’ I smiled.
‘Great, thank you. I’ve never been around here before. I’m an hour late. What are they like, the Kilsaneys?’ He scrunched up his nose. ‘Will they give me shit?’
I shrugged. ‘They don’t say much. But don’t worry, they love books.’
‘Good. Do you want me to stop here on the way back out so you can have a look at the books?’
‘Sure.’
I closed the door and burst out laughing. I waited with excitement for him to return, butterflies fluttering around my heart and stomach as though I was a child playing hide-and-seek. I hadn’t felt like this for at least a month. Something had been reopened inside me. Less than a minute later, I heard the bus returning. It stopped outside the house and I opened the door. He was getting out of the bus, a big smile on his face. When he looked up he caught my eye and shook his head.
‘Kilsaneys not home?’ I asked.
He laughed, coming towards me, thankfully not angry but amused. ‘They decided they didn’t want any books as it seems, along with the second floor and most of their walls, and the actual roof of their home, their bookshelf went missing.’
I giggled.
‘Very funny, Miss Goodwin.’
‘It’s Ms, thank you very much.’
‘I’m Marcus.’ He held out his hand and
Through the obscure stained glass, I could tell it was a man. When I opened the door, I saw it was a gorgeous man. Early twenties, I guessed, dark brown hair gelled straight up in the front, just like his polo-shirt collar. He could well be a rugby boy. He looked me up and down, and smiled.
‘Hi,’ he said, and his smile revealed perfectly straight white teeth. He had stubble all around his jaw, his eyes were bright blue. In his hand was a clipboard with a chart attached.
‘Hi,’ I said, arching my back as I leaned in against the door.
‘Sir Ignatius?’ he asked.
I smiled. ‘Not I.’
‘Is there a Sir Ignatius Power in this house?’
‘Not at the moment. He’s out fox hunting with Lord Casper.’
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘When will he be back?’
‘After he’s caught the fox, I assume.’
‘Hmm…’ he nodded slowly and looked about him. ‘Are the foxes fast around here?’
‘You’re obviously not from around here. Everybody knows about the foxes here.’
‘Hmm. Indeed I’m not.’
I bit my lip and tried not to smile.
‘So he might be a long time?’ he smiled, sensing I was waning.
‘He might be a very long time.’
‘I see.’
He leaned against the porch pillar and stared at me.
‘What?’ I said defensively, feeling like I was melting under his gaze.
‘Seriously.’
‘Seriously, what?’
‘Does he live anywhere around here, at all?’
‘Definitely not behind these gates.’
‘What are you then?’
‘I’m a Goodwin.’
‘I’m sure you are, but what’s your surname?’
I tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it.
‘Cheesy, I know, sorry,’ he apologised good-heartedly, then looked confused as he consulted his chart and scratched his head, making it even more tousled.
I looked over his shoulder and saw a white bus, with ‘The Travelling Library’ emblazoned across the side.
He finally looked up from his clipboard. ‘Okay then, I’m definitely lost. There’s no Goodwin on this list.’
‘Oh, it wouldn’t be under my name.’ Byrne was my mother’s maiden name, my uncle Arthur’s surname and the name this house would be under. Arthur and Rosaleen Byrne. Jennifer Byrne—it didn’t sound right. It felt like my mum should always have been a Goodwin.
‘So this must be the Kilsaney residence?’ he said hopefully, looking up from his chart.
‘Ah, the Kilsaneys,’ I said, and he looked relieved. ‘They’re the next house on the left, just through the trees,’ I smiled.
‘Great, thank you. I’ve never been around here before. I’m an hour late. What are they like, the Kilsaneys?’ He scrunched up his nose. ‘Will they give me shit?’
I shrugged. ‘They don’t say much. But don’t worry, they love books.’
‘Good. Do you want me to stop here on the way back out so you can have a look at the books?’
‘Sure.’
I closed the door and burst out laughing. I waited with excitement for him to return, butterflies fluttering around my heart and stomach as though I was a child playing hide-and-seek. I hadn’t felt like this for at least a month. Something had been reopened inside me. Less than a minute later, I heard the bus returning. It stopped outside the house and I opened the door. He was getting out of the bus, a big smile on his face. When he looked up he caught my eye and shook his head.
‘Kilsaneys not home?’ I asked.
He laughed, coming towards me, thankfully not angry but amused. ‘They decided they didn’t want any books as it seems, along with the second floor and most of their walls, and the actual roof of their home, their bookshelf went missing.’
I giggled.
‘Very funny, Miss Goodwin.’
‘It’s Ms, thank you very much.’
‘I’m Marcus.’ He held out his hand and
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