Read Online The Sudden Departure of the Frasers by Louise Candlish - Free Book Online
Authors: Louise Candlish
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show herself soon enough.’
He nibbled at a thumb, nail in the groove between his front teeth. ‘I don’t see you as a guttersnipe, I must admit.’
‘Not any more, sure.’ My coffee arrived and I brandished the white plastic spoon that came with it. ‘But I was born with one of these in my mouth, so you can imagine how chuffed I am to have switched to silver.’
He laughed. ‘Not everyone’s so honest about their humble beginnings.’
‘I find that silly,’ I said. ‘After all, the less you begin with, the more reason you have to be proud of your achievements.’ Quite what my achievements were, I couldn’t say offhand, but I could see that with every minute I was becoming more fascinating to him and that was accomplishment enough for now.
‘Well, I’m plastic spoon by choice,’ he said, his gaze lingering on the sizeable diamond on my left hand. I had a disconcerting image of him sliding it off with his teeth. ‘I consider it my moral duty to lower the tone of our upwardly mobile street. Neither my flat nor I are in any way modernized.’
‘Unreconstructed. I like that.’ This was verging on farce: I couldn’t have been more flirtatious if I’d sat in his lap and unzipped my top, pressed his face into my cleavage.
‘This obsession with renovation,’ he went on, leaning towards me very slightly, just close enough for the edges of our breath to meet, ‘I don’t understand it. What is it with ripping everything out and starting again? Every timesomeone moves in they replace the kitchen and the bathroom and maybe the windows. Then the same happens again a couple of years later. I don’t remember a time when there wasn’t a skip in the street with German basins in it.’
‘German?’ I giggled.
‘Or Italian, Swedish, wherever. And it’s all completely intact, some of it in mint condition. Not exactly in tune with the recycling zeitgeist, is it?’
I thought of the worn but perfectly serviceable oak cabinets being torn out of my kitchen as we spoke to make way for the costly and high-maintenance bevelled-glass replacements that our successors might very well loathe.
‘So you’re our resident eco-warrior, are you?’ I said.
‘Not at all. I’m just not an arrogant twat.’
My eyes went very wide precisely as his narrowed, and neither of us blinked. It was an interesting moment, in which I guessed he anticipated the rebuke that he’d gone too far, but I made it clear with my gaze that he could never go too far, not with me. And that was that, the dynamic was established: we were each as bold as the other, each as damned.
I sipped my coffee as I watched him cast about for a change of subject, a half step back. ‘Have you met Felicity yet?’ he asked.
‘Yes, she seems like a character.’
‘Oh, she is. She’s a big Glen Campbell fan. If the drilling gets too much, she’ll blast you back with “The Wichita Lineman”.’
‘I don’t know it,’ I admitted.
‘You’ve never heard any Glen Campbell?’ He began murmuring a melody, presumably a line from the song he’d mentioned, and it felt like a siren call, drawing me to my death and releasing me only when it faded, which it soon did as he began chuckling at his own foolishness. ‘It’s too early in the day for karaoke. But gen up, if you want her onside.’
‘I’ll remember that.’
Together we strolled the short distance home, our stride slow to the point of reluctance. We used the main park gate; only Felicity had access to the private gate for number 38, Rob told me, and I was not yet ready for him to set foot in my house or garden. We arrived at our front gates to find the usual dust cloud billowing from my open front door, the drone of power tools beyond. Two builders leaned against the skip, smoking, and I called hello, noticed Rob clock the appreciative stares I received in return.
‘You really are living in there,’ he said, grimacing, ‘while all of this chaos is going on.’
‘Yep. Most of the rooms
He nibbled at a thumb, nail in the groove between his front teeth. ‘I don’t see you as a guttersnipe, I must admit.’
‘Not any more, sure.’ My coffee arrived and I brandished the white plastic spoon that came with it. ‘But I was born with one of these in my mouth, so you can imagine how chuffed I am to have switched to silver.’
He laughed. ‘Not everyone’s so honest about their humble beginnings.’
‘I find that silly,’ I said. ‘After all, the less you begin with, the more reason you have to be proud of your achievements.’ Quite what my achievements were, I couldn’t say offhand, but I could see that with every minute I was becoming more fascinating to him and that was accomplishment enough for now.
‘Well, I’m plastic spoon by choice,’ he said, his gaze lingering on the sizeable diamond on my left hand. I had a disconcerting image of him sliding it off with his teeth. ‘I consider it my moral duty to lower the tone of our upwardly mobile street. Neither my flat nor I are in any way modernized.’
‘Unreconstructed. I like that.’ This was verging on farce: I couldn’t have been more flirtatious if I’d sat in his lap and unzipped my top, pressed his face into my cleavage.
‘This obsession with renovation,’ he went on, leaning towards me very slightly, just close enough for the edges of our breath to meet, ‘I don’t understand it. What is it with ripping everything out and starting again? Every timesomeone moves in they replace the kitchen and the bathroom and maybe the windows. Then the same happens again a couple of years later. I don’t remember a time when there wasn’t a skip in the street with German basins in it.’
‘German?’ I giggled.
‘Or Italian, Swedish, wherever. And it’s all completely intact, some of it in mint condition. Not exactly in tune with the recycling zeitgeist, is it?’
I thought of the worn but perfectly serviceable oak cabinets being torn out of my kitchen as we spoke to make way for the costly and high-maintenance bevelled-glass replacements that our successors might very well loathe.
‘So you’re our resident eco-warrior, are you?’ I said.
‘Not at all. I’m just not an arrogant twat.’
My eyes went very wide precisely as his narrowed, and neither of us blinked. It was an interesting moment, in which I guessed he anticipated the rebuke that he’d gone too far, but I made it clear with my gaze that he could never go too far, not with me. And that was that, the dynamic was established: we were each as bold as the other, each as damned.
I sipped my coffee as I watched him cast about for a change of subject, a half step back. ‘Have you met Felicity yet?’ he asked.
‘Yes, she seems like a character.’
‘Oh, she is. She’s a big Glen Campbell fan. If the drilling gets too much, she’ll blast you back with “The Wichita Lineman”.’
‘I don’t know it,’ I admitted.
‘You’ve never heard any Glen Campbell?’ He began murmuring a melody, presumably a line from the song he’d mentioned, and it felt like a siren call, drawing me to my death and releasing me only when it faded, which it soon did as he began chuckling at his own foolishness. ‘It’s too early in the day for karaoke. But gen up, if you want her onside.’
‘I’ll remember that.’
Together we strolled the short distance home, our stride slow to the point of reluctance. We used the main park gate; only Felicity had access to the private gate for number 38, Rob told me, and I was not yet ready for him to set foot in my house or garden. We arrived at our front gates to find the usual dust cloud billowing from my open front door, the drone of power tools beyond. Two builders leaned against the skip, smoking, and I called hello, noticed Rob clock the appreciative stares I received in return.
‘You really are living in there,’ he said, grimacing, ‘while all of this chaos is going on.’
‘Yep. Most of the rooms
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