In Your Dreams Read Online Free PDF

well.
    Won’t mention this to Sophie , he thought, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He put on his coat and headed for the front office.
    No goblins as such; but Mr Tanner’s mum was on reception. That is, behind the reception desk was a stunningly lovely chestnut-haired beauty he’d never seen before in his life, who winked at him as he went past. Mr Tanner’s mum was a goblin; like the rest of her kind she could assume human shape at will, and she made no bones about the fact that she fancied him rotten, something he tried very hard not to think about. Pretending that he hadn’t noticed, he hurried past and didn’t slow down till he reached the bus stop.
    It’s not true that it’s easier to get from Bokhara to Tashkent on a three-legged camel than to travel from the City to Kentish Town by bus. It just seems that way, particularly when you’re in a hurry. Paul had found out long before that magic doesn’t work on traffic jams (implying, rather disturbingly, that traffic in Central London is meant to be permanently gridlocked), so he spent the journey fretting and looking at his watch, which if anything appeared to be running backwards. His idea had been to get home before Sophie did, tidy the flat, do the washing-up, cook dinner and generally impress her with his caring, responsible side. After dinner, he’d smear a solemn look onto his face and suggest that it was time they had a Serious Talk about Us, which would please her no end; Us was probably her favourite topic of conversation, and although generally speaking he tended to lose the thread after the first few minutes, it never seemed to matter, so long as he agreed with everything she said and maintained eye contact. That was the plan; a sort of pre-emptive apology for whatever it was he’d done, or was about to do, wrong. Unfortunately, infuriatingly, it looked like sixty thousand cars had sworn to stop him or die trying.
    When Paul eventually set toe to pavement, it was thirty-five minutes after his ETA. As he scuttled homewards from the bus stop, he quickly reshuffled his plans. If he still managed to get home first, the main priority was the washing-up, followed by a quick skirmish with the dirty laundry on the bedroom floor. Most important of all would be that he suggested the Serious Talk. Basically, once he’d tabled the motion, that’d be his duty done for the day. He could rely on her to do all the serious talking.
    When he unlatched the door and flopped through it, his first reaction was relief. She wasn’t there, so obviously she hadn’t got home yet. Then he saw the envelope.
    It was on the kitchen table, and it said Paul in her handwriting; and that was very bad, because when she left him little notes to say she’d just nipped down to the shop or the video library, she wrote them on yellow stickies and stuck them on the fridge door. An envelope on the table, with Paul on it, couldn’t possibly be anything good. Feeling as though some malevolent joker had opened him up and stuffed him with newspaper, he sat down and opened it.
    Paul—
    We’re finished. When I got home tonight I realised that there’s no point going on. I care about you and I know you care about me but I also care about us and I know you don’t. It’s not your fault, it’s just that you’re you and I’m me and I can’t see any way round that, and if we tried we’d end up with neither of us being who we are. I’m sure you can see that, can’t you?
    They want me to go and do three months at the Hollywood office – I didn’t know they had one but presumably they do – and when I get back I’ll come and get the rest of my things. I’ve sent the landlord a cheque for my half of the rent, so you don’t need to worry about that. If you need to get in touch with me I suppose you can call me at the office out there, but I’d rather you didn’t.