Chaos Theory Read Online Free PDF Page B

– you should have introduced me. But if she just got married – well, it sounds like it’s too late now.’
    He picked up a small handful of chopped green chillies and scattered them into the gazpacho. ‘Are you around at all? You want to come to my place for dinner? I’m having a few friends around this evening and you’re more than welcome.’
    ‘Sure, that would be great. I want to see you in any case. I have something interesting to show you.’
    ‘Around seven, how’s that?’
     
    He set the round oak table that stood on his terrace. He tried to remember how Jenna used to lay out all the cutlery, and the side plates, and how she folded the napkins. He even found a clear-crystal vase and made a decorative arrangement of purple orchids, placing it in the centre, between the candles.
    Jenna had been one of the few civilizing influences in his life, and even after eighteen months he still missed her. But the stuntman and the jewellery designer? You couldn’t even make a situation comedy about it, let alone try to live it out for real.
    He went back into the kitchen and peered into the oven to make sure that his Moroccan chicken wasn’t burning, and then opened a very cold bottle of Pinot Grigio.
    ‘Here’s to civilizing influences,’ he said, raising his glass.
    ‘Screw you,’ croaked Marilyn.
    He stood by the railing, looking out over Laurel Canyon. Beside him, his flag hung limp and motionless on its flagpole. His neighbour, Cy Winterman, was having drinks by the pool. He could hear Cy’s baying laughter and the screaming of his children as they threw each other into the water.
    Far below, Los Angeles was covered by gilded haze, like a city seen in a dream.
    Noah spent only a few weeks of each year at home in California. When he did, though, he always became reflective, and started to question what he was doing with his life, and who he really was. He was standing in for actors who were pretending to be people who didn’t even exist. How was that for questioning your identity?
    He heard a car pull up in front of the house. The doorbell chimed and it was Silja. She was wearing a white diaphanous dress with big yellow poppies printed on it, and wedge-heeled sandals that were laced all the way up her calves. She kissed him directly on the lips. Her perfume smelled like summer flowers.
    ‘Am I the first?’
    ‘Yes, but that’s OK. It’ll give us a chance to talk. Mo Speller’s coming round tonight and he never lets anybody else get a word in edgewise.’
    ‘Nice place,’ said Silja, walking through to the living room. It was still decorated according to Jenna’s tastes – with pale lemon walls and white-upholstered couches, and white ceramic jugs and figurines.
    ‘I’ve been here nearly eight years now. Bought it from Jimmy Volante when he retired. You know, the guy who used to do Happy Pappy on children’s TV. Or probably you don’t know. Way before your time.’
    Silja went out on to the veranda. The setting sun shone through her dress, and Noah couldn’t help noticing that she was wearing nothing underneath but a white lace thong. He coughed and said, ‘How about a glass of wine?’
    ‘Why not? I have two days free before I have to fly back to London. God, I hate that Pinewood Studios. It’s like a prison camp. And it never stopped raining.’
    ‘So what’s this interesting something that you wanted to show me?’
    ‘I tried to call you, but I can never work out the time difference. Is it nine hours behind or nine hours ahead? Anyhow, when I found out that I was coming back here, I brought it with me.’
    She opened her small white purse and took out a folded page torn from a magazine. She spread it out on the table and said, ‘This was in the Telegraph magazine last Saturday. It was an article about suicide bombers. I was only reading it because I was bored and there was nothing else to read.’
    The headline said, Destination: Heaven . There were several pictures of Middle Eastern