Dirty Minds Read Online Free PDF Page A

like auburn. We’ll go with that. Now, weren’t you going to tell me what you do for a living?’
    ‘I write.’ He saw her glance up, and he hastened to clarify. ‘At least, that’s what I spend a lot of my time doing. My normal job is at Exeter University. I teach English, but I’ve taken a year off.’
    ‘Is that so? Well, we would seem to have more in common than chocolate Hobnobs. I do a bit of writing myself. What are you writing at present?’
    He suddenly felt very embarrassed. He took refuge in a version of the truth.
    ‘Historical novels, mainly. I’ve just finished a trilogy set in the Middle Ages.’
    ‘Wow. Have you done lots of research? Are you doing research at the moment?’
    The embarrassment returned.
    ‘I had to do lots for the medieval stuff. I came to history relatively late on. I’ve spent most of my spare time over the past ten years reading anything I could get hold of about the twelfth to fourteenth centuries.’
    ‘Twelfth to fourteenth. That would be before the Tudors and the Stuarts, wouldn’t it? That’s about all the history I did at school.’ She sounded interested.
    ‘A fair bit before. Henry VII was the first of the Tudor line. If I remember right, he came to power in the 1480s, after the Battle of Bosworth Field. No, my period covers the Crusades, the Cathars, Knights Templar. I suppose we’re talking about a couple of hundred years earlier. To be honest, most of my research has been on French history. I’m not that well up on England.’
    ‘Who were the Cathars, again?’ She screwed up her face and tilted her head to one side, as she struggled to remember. Even with her face screwed up, she still looked amazing.
    ‘Southern France in the 1200s. They were wiped out by the Catholic Church. Their beliefs were branded as heretical.’
    ‘“Branded as heretical?” Why do you say that? Weren’t they heretics?’
    ‘They called themselves “Good Christians”. Their views were unorthodox, but not deserving of genocide. They believed in the duality of God –’ He stopped himself in time. ‘I’m sorry, unless you are very careful you’ll still be here tomorrow morning, with me droning on. So what about you? What sort of writing do you do? Wait a minute, let me guess. You’re a fashion journalist. Am I right?’
    To his surprise, she nodded. ‘That’s what pays the bills, and lets Sophie and me live down here in the country six days a week.’
    He noted that she only mentioned herself and the dog.
    ‘For fun, I write whodunits. At least I’ve finished one, and I’m thinking about the next. But tell me, how do I get hold of these books of yours?’
    ‘Not on the shelves, I’m afraid. I’ve been beating my head against a wall for years, trying to get somebody in the trade to read one of them. Every time I send off a synopsis I get the same reply: “I’m afraid” – ’
    ‘“Your work is not suitable for our list.”‘ Clearly this was something else they had in common. ‘“But this does not mean to say that another publisher or agent or whatever won’t find your work appealing etc. etc.” Signed by a girl called Fenella or Lysistrata. Tell me about it. I’ve been there too.’
    He changed the subject in case she asked him what research he was currently undertaking. ‘So you spend six days here each week. What about the seventh?’ He really wanted to know with whom she spent the seventh.
    ‘I’ve got a little place in London. Sophie and I take the train up most Sundays. If all goes well, we are back on the train again on Monday evening. Although I work from home most of the time, I like to keep up personal contact with my editor. I wouldn’t want her to forget me.’
    ‘I can’t imagine anybody forgetting you in a hurry.’
    If she heard what he said, she gave no sign. ‘Of course, during spring and autumn collection time, I’m away a bit more. But I love Devon, and can’t wait to get back down here. And dear old Soph loves it to