Read Online The Poison Morality by Stacey Kathleen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stacey Kathleen
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learn more about sexuality, there were plenty of books on the subject but she was too embarrassed to even go into those sections. Was Sydney alive? If so, where had she been for twenty years?
Maybe she should give it a rest and do something else for a while. Maybe lunch at the café or checking out the exhibit or going onto the internet in search of the missing sister, which made her hesitant still not knowing how far down this rabbit hole she wanted to go.
She could start by searching the social media websites but nothing came up for a Sydney Newton in London. Maybe, she didn’t want to be found. Maybe someone else wanted her to know about Sydney and perhaps Sydney got a copy of the photo and had the same shock of finding out about Sophie.
She was restless, that was it, restless. Her mind drifted to Oliver. Oh great from Sydney to Oliver, there were too many new people in her life suddenly. Being a recluse it was somewhat a shock to the system.
He was a nice guy and no amount of bad past experiences would change what Oliver is, not to mention handsome. Her phone startled her, vibrating in her pocket. It was him, again. She had successfully ignored his calls and his messages without listening to them. She may have inadvertently agreed to share a meal with him but she didn’t say when. They obviously were thinking of each other at the same time. If this was a romance novel, she thought, that would be considered kismet.
Sighing, she rushed through the aisles, grabbing books without looking. Leaving without books just wasn’t an option in her opinion. She checked out and walked out into the early February day. The sun was surprisingly warm, minimizing the chill. Sophie walked the ten minutes to Regent’s Park and picked a bench by the lake watching the swans glide gracefully across the water. The ducks waddled to her in the hope that she had crumbs to give them and quacked at her when she didn’t deliver. The birds signalled the arrival of spring and Sophie was glad. She was tired of the cold. The warm weather made her work easier.
Reaching into her bag of books, she pulled one out, totally ignorant of what she had picked up and pulled out a book of photographs from around the world. For an hour she sat looking at it enjoying it very much, even wishing that she could go to some of those places but she had never left England.
They revealed mysterious and glamorous worlds her favourite being Paris; she always wanted to go to Paris. It was so close, yet it seemed so far away. She stared at a photo of the Eiffel Tower for several minutes when an older man shuffled along standing on the side of the lake, his bread bag in hand, caught her attention. Birds surrounded him in anticipation, beaks upturned; chasing the bread he tossed about.
He was hunched over in the shoulders, his coat ragged looking, and his pants were at least two sizes too big held on by a belt cinched tightly around his waist. His gaunt face making his hooked nose seem more prominent, a short white, scruffy beard, lined his jaw and chin.
Sophie watched him throw the last of the crumbs and fold the bag neatly and stuff it in his pocket. He spotted her and walked over and sat on the other end of the bench. “What you got there?”
Sophie felt awkward, fingering the pages nervously, “Um… photos from around world.”
“Ah, the world, eh? Well, you’ll never get anything out of that book. You want to see the world, go,” he waved his hand, “Go. You’re young,” he spoke slowly; “you should just go see it. When I was in the Royal Navy, I travelled but I saw more water than land. I can’t go anywhere now.”
“Well I’ve never been out of England, I’m not sure if I can go by myself.” Was this what people defined as small talk?
“You don’t have a bloke? A pretty bird like you doesn’t have anyone to take her places? Pity,” he paused and Sophie didn’t
Maybe she should give it a rest and do something else for a while. Maybe lunch at the café or checking out the exhibit or going onto the internet in search of the missing sister, which made her hesitant still not knowing how far down this rabbit hole she wanted to go.
She could start by searching the social media websites but nothing came up for a Sydney Newton in London. Maybe, she didn’t want to be found. Maybe someone else wanted her to know about Sydney and perhaps Sydney got a copy of the photo and had the same shock of finding out about Sophie.
She was restless, that was it, restless. Her mind drifted to Oliver. Oh great from Sydney to Oliver, there were too many new people in her life suddenly. Being a recluse it was somewhat a shock to the system.
He was a nice guy and no amount of bad past experiences would change what Oliver is, not to mention handsome. Her phone startled her, vibrating in her pocket. It was him, again. She had successfully ignored his calls and his messages without listening to them. She may have inadvertently agreed to share a meal with him but she didn’t say when. They obviously were thinking of each other at the same time. If this was a romance novel, she thought, that would be considered kismet.
Sighing, she rushed through the aisles, grabbing books without looking. Leaving without books just wasn’t an option in her opinion. She checked out and walked out into the early February day. The sun was surprisingly warm, minimizing the chill. Sophie walked the ten minutes to Regent’s Park and picked a bench by the lake watching the swans glide gracefully across the water. The ducks waddled to her in the hope that she had crumbs to give them and quacked at her when she didn’t deliver. The birds signalled the arrival of spring and Sophie was glad. She was tired of the cold. The warm weather made her work easier.
Reaching into her bag of books, she pulled one out, totally ignorant of what she had picked up and pulled out a book of photographs from around the world. For an hour she sat looking at it enjoying it very much, even wishing that she could go to some of those places but she had never left England.
They revealed mysterious and glamorous worlds her favourite being Paris; she always wanted to go to Paris. It was so close, yet it seemed so far away. She stared at a photo of the Eiffel Tower for several minutes when an older man shuffled along standing on the side of the lake, his bread bag in hand, caught her attention. Birds surrounded him in anticipation, beaks upturned; chasing the bread he tossed about.
He was hunched over in the shoulders, his coat ragged looking, and his pants were at least two sizes too big held on by a belt cinched tightly around his waist. His gaunt face making his hooked nose seem more prominent, a short white, scruffy beard, lined his jaw and chin.
Sophie watched him throw the last of the crumbs and fold the bag neatly and stuff it in his pocket. He spotted her and walked over and sat on the other end of the bench. “What you got there?”
Sophie felt awkward, fingering the pages nervously, “Um… photos from around world.”
“Ah, the world, eh? Well, you’ll never get anything out of that book. You want to see the world, go,” he waved his hand, “Go. You’re young,” he spoke slowly; “you should just go see it. When I was in the Royal Navy, I travelled but I saw more water than land. I can’t go anywhere now.”
“Well I’ve never been out of England, I’m not sure if I can go by myself.” Was this what people defined as small talk?
“You don’t have a bloke? A pretty bird like you doesn’t have anyone to take her places? Pity,” he paused and Sophie didn’t
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