31 Dream Street Read Online Free PDF Page B

the line of his nose and the contours of his forehead. She touched his thick hair with the palm of her hand. And then, she couldn’t resist it, she leaned over and brushed his lovely cheek with her lips.
    ‘Jesus!’ he jumped. ‘What! What is it?!’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Leah, springing away from him. ‘Nothing. I was just kissing you, that’s all.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because… I don’t know. I just wanted to.’
    ‘Jesus. It’s nearly two. Why are you awake?’
    She shrugged. ‘I can’t sleep. It’s that man. That Gus. I can’t stop thinking about him.’
    ‘Oh, God.’ Amitabh sighed and pulled the duvet back over himself.
    ‘How do you do it?’ she said. ‘I mean, you must see it every day. Old people, dying, alone. Doesn’t it, I don’t know, doesn’t it… get to you ?’ Amitabh was a nurse in a geriatric ward. He knew about these things.
    ‘Oh, God. Leah. Not now. Please.’
    ‘But is it better or worse if they’re alone? Does it seem sadder if there are loads of relatives and grandkids and things, or is it worse if there’s nobody there at all?’
    ‘Let’s have this conversation in the morning, shall we?’ He reached out and squeezed her wrist perfunctorily.
    ‘I don’t want to end up all on my own,’ she said. ‘I really don’t want to.’
    ‘It’s OK. You’re a nice person. You won’t be on your own.’
    ‘Yes, but being nice isn’t any guarantee that you’ll get married and have kids and that all your friends won’t die before you, is it?’
    ‘It helps,’ he said.
    ‘Hmmmm.’ Leah sank back into the bed and pulled the duvet over her chest. Within ten seconds Amitabh’s breathing had grown heavy. Ten seconds later he was fast asleep. Leah looked at him again and suddenlyknew what she had to do. It was obvious. She’d never felt more certain of anything in her life.
    ‘Am. Amitabh,’ she shook him gently by the shoulder. ‘Am.’
    ‘Oh, God! What?’ He turned over and stared at her accusingly.
    ‘I love you.’
    He raised an eyebrow at her.
    ‘No. I mean, I really love you. And I want to be with you for ever. You know. Until I die. I want to marry you.’
    ‘ What! ’
    ‘I want to marry you.’
    ‘No, you don’t.’
    ‘Yes. I do. Will you marry me?’
    ‘Oh, my God. You’re being serious, aren’t you?’
    ‘Uh-huh.’
    ‘Jesus,’ his face softened, ‘Leah. It’s so late. I can’t…’
    ‘It’s OK,’ she said, brushing his hair away from his face. ‘You don’t need to answer now. Sleep on it. Think about it.’
    ‘Is this to do with that old man? Are you having some kind of crisis?’
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘Honestly. No. It’s just made me think, that’s all. About what’s important. About what I want. And I want you. For ever.’
    ‘Let’s talk about it in the morning,’ he said.
    ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘let’s.’

7
    Wallace Beaton was a dusty-looking man in a grey suit and a bottle-green tie. He sat behind a desk the size of a dining table and turned paperwork with long, dry fingers. ‘Mr Veldtman has left instructions that you be the sole beneficiary of his estate.’
    ‘Estate?’
    ‘Yes. Mr Veldtman has bequeathed you all his personal possessions which are, I assume, in your property?’
    Toby gulped and thought sadly of the ugly pre-war furniture and the snuff-box collection. ‘Yes. That’s right.’
    ‘And guardianship of his cat.’
    ‘Oh, God. Really?’
    ‘Yes. With the strict instruction that it must stay with you. Until it dies. Or you die.’
    Toby gulped again. ‘And if I die?’
    ‘Then it should be sent to live with Mr Veldtman’s great-niece in Guernsey. Right. Next.’ He pulled out another sheaf of paper and cleared his throat. ‘Mr Veldtman has a, er… novel in print.’
    ‘He does?’
    ‘Yes. Published in Dutch in 1930. And reprinted twelve times since. Mr Veldtman has a royalty account with a firm of agents in the Hague. He has instructedthat his literary estate be bequeathed to you and any