Read Online The Life and Loves of Gringo Greene by David Carter - Free Book Online

say about letters, you always start at the beginning, and see where the adventure takes you. Then again, his mother saw adventures everywhere, but she was right about that, the letters. She often was.
       Dearest Glen.
       Stop!
       Too soppy!
       He ripped the sheet off, screwed it up, and threw it in the corner.
       Start again.
       Dear Glen,
       I have been meaning to write to you for some time.
       (Lie number one. How could you write when you didn’t have an address?)
       I guess I owe you an apology for not attending your leaving do, but I made a mistake, and I’m sorry for that. Am I forgiven? I do hope so. The office seems quite empty without you and everyone’s asking after you.
       (Lie number two. No one, and he meant no one, had ever mentioned her name. Weird!)
       I hope you are enjoying your holiday in the States and are behaving yourself.
       (Fat chance!)
       When are you due back? There is still a job for you here if you want it.
       (Lie number three. There probably was no job. Natural wastage, cut backs, credit crunch, finding a job anywhere would be a damned hard thing to achieve.)
       If you ever fancy a chat you know my number. Ring any time you like. Don’t worry about the money, reverse the charges. I’ll pay. Dialling from the States you need to put +44 before the number, then the city code, and I am sure you remember it, 246-1966.
       Have you been anywhere exciting? What is New York like? Why not drop me a line? I’d love to hear from you. Tell me all your news, eh?
       That’s about it for now,
       All my love,
       Stop!
       You can’t write that!
       Not All my love!
       Give me a break. Jeez!
       He ripped off the page, screwed it up; tossed it on the floor.
       Start again.
       Maybe it should be ended: Sincerely yours .
       Bollocks! He reprimanded himself. You are not writing to the bank manager trying to get a bloody overdraft!
       What about: Lots of love .
       Bit girly, bit school girlish.
       What about: I miss you babe.
       Yeah, he liked that, I miss you babe , that’s the answer, but when he’d written it down in his over large scrawl, it looked and sounded dreadful. I miss you babe. Jeez! I am supposed to be playing hard to get, he muttered. Who the hell would write I miss you babe , if they were playing hard to get?
       Oh Please!
       Stop!
       He tore it off. Screwed it up. Tossed it on the floor.
       All my love is cool.
       Yeah, you can take that as serious or as casual as you like. Then he remembered. That’s what he had written before, the very first time, All my love . Jee-zuss! One of screwed up efforts languishing on the floor! He cursed aloud again. He couldn’t bloody well unscrew it!
       Do it again! Write it again!
       Do it now! Get on with it!
       Get the job done! Get writing!
       Ah… Finished at last!
       An hour and a half to write one and half pages. Give me a break.
       He picked up the address and read it out loud. He wondered what it was like, Lincoln Heights. It certainly sounded grand. He wondered what Harry Wildenstein was like. Gringo’s mind flashed back to that last fateful date with Glen.
       He’s a banker, Gringo, rolling in it they say, a very wealthy family, tall, dark and handsome. I could find myself falling in love with Harry Wildenstein, and that’s a fact .
       It was almost as if she was in the room now, her sweet voice bouncing off the walls. I could find myself falling in love with Harry Wildenstein, and that’s a fact .
       Gringo wanted to strangle bloody Harry Wildenstein; and her too for that matter, for thinking such hideous thoughts. He wanted to hit her, to knock some sense into that thick head of hers, but that wouldn’t do any good, not really, and the thought evaporated as soon as it had germed. Sometimes life sucks. In times like these it definitely does.
       He eased an envelope from the flat pack and wrote the address as