Lovers and Newcomers Read Online Free PDF Page B

busting to get started.’
    That was obvious enough. The undischarged electricity that flickered in the room seemed to crackle about him, just as it had done when they were young.
    Miranda looked across at Colin, inviting him to take his turn.
    ‘I’ll monitor progress and supply strong drink when required. When I’m not working I’ll stay if and when Miranda lets me.’
    Colin was a theatre set designer. Mostly he worked in London, but sometimes a job took him to Italy or New York. Unlike the others he was not planning to move to Mead for good. Miranda leaned over and covered his hand with hers.
    ‘There are nine bedrooms in this house. Be here with us as much as you can,’ she implored.
    Colin needed to be with somebody, after everything he had been through. They all thought that, not just Miranda. And if not with them, then whom?
    ‘Thanks, Miranda. Here I am.’
    Selwyn had fidgeted and twitched through all the talking. Now he tipped back half a glass of red wine and jumped to his feet.
    ‘Sitting for hours makes my back ache. Where’s the music, Mirry?’
    ‘Next door.’
    He bounded through a set of double doors, dragging the white loops of earphones and a black iPod out of his pocket. Ten seconds later music crashed out of the speakers.
    ‘C’mon, let’s dance,’ Selwyn hollered.
    They groaned, but left their seats. It was ‘Baba O’Reilly’.
    Selwyn kicked back a rug to expose dusty oak floorboards. They launched into the dance, laughing and kicking out their arms and legs and swinging their buttocks, without the embarrassed scorn of the Knight boys or Selwyn and Polly’s son and twin daughters to inhibit them. The Who were succeeded by Pink Floyd.
    ‘Haven’t you heard of the Arctic Monkeys, Selwyn?’ Amos shouted.
    ‘No, and neither have you.’
    Katherine, flushed and beaming, was jiving with Colin. As always Amos missed every beat but made up for it with general enthusiasm.
    Watching the dancing, her nervous anticipation melted into delight at the success of the first evening, Miranda noticed that there was no wine left on the table. She thought of the remaining bottles of Bollinger in the fridge in the pantry and slipped out into the hall to collect one or two of them. A narrow passage behind the stairs, lined with coats and cluttered with wellingtons, provided a short cut directly to the pantry. She didn’t need to switch on the lights, she knew every creak underfoot and every draught on her cheek, so she swore softly when her ankle connected sharply with a suitcase that Amos had brought in and left there. As she stopped to let the pain subside there was a rustle and a darker shape moved against the darkness.
    It was Selwyn. She knew the scent of him before he reached for her, before his lips touched her ear.
    ‘You are beautiful, Barb. You’re so fucking gorgeous tonight, I don’t know where to put myself.’
    ‘And you’re pissed, Sel.’
    ‘No, I’m not.’
    Even though it was pitch dark Miranda could see the lines of his profile. Through the muffle of waxed jackets and tweed caps she could hear pairs of feet thudding to the beat.
    ‘You didn’t always think I was gorgeous.’
    There was a ripple of amusement in her voice.
    ‘Oceans of water have flowed under more bridges than there are in Venice, since those days,’ he protested.
    He kissed her and she responded with a sharp intake of breath that seemed to catch in his throat.
    ‘Stop it,’ Miranda breathed, but they still hung together. He ran his fingers over her throat, down to the open buttons of her top.
    She did move then, forcing herself to duck under his arm and skip away to the kitchen. He followed her, into the bright lights and the debris of cooking.
    ‘Take a couple of those bottles through for me?’
    ‘Amos has had quite enough already.’
    ‘So have you,’ she countered.
    In the drawing room they were still dancing. Miranda was relieved that no one had missed them, even though all that had happened was a