LOVE'S GHOST (a romance) Read Online Free PDF

anyway, I wasn’t sad. I just didn’t want to tell her that her modelling career was over at seventeen years of age.
    She left her seat and came round to the banquette I was sitting on. She gave me a hug. Luckily we were the only diners in this corner of the restaurant.
    “Man trouble?” she asked.
    “No, no, no. I’ve just been working so hard. Are you sure you want to be a model, Anna? It’s a very cutthroat industry. Very dog eat dog. Or cat eat cat.”
    “After you’ve worked in a factory, anything’s fantastic.”
    I returned her hug, but I just wanted to get home.

5. Overheating

    AT WORK I tried to avoid Polly. Luckily, she didn’t bring up the subject of Anna. I think she was so used to people doing her bidding immediately, without question, that she just assumed that I had carried out her instructions, that Anna was no longer represented by the agency.
    It was a first for me. I’d never disobeyed Polly before. I’m not sure why I did it. I think it was because I wanted something good to happen that day, something that would chase away the rain, chase away the low, dark clouds.
    I should have felt a rush of excitement. But I didn’t. It wasn’t much of a gesture, and it was only delaying the inevitable. And yet, I did feel better about life. But I had to follow it up with action. I wondered what else I could do to find Anna work.
    Polly was busy. She was arguing with the publisher of one of the fashion magazines. I was surprised they still took her calls. But I guess they enjoyed the verbal tongue-lashing, men and women alike. It was a way for them to indulge in a bit of sadomasochism while at work.
    “What do you mean there’s no more room left in the issue? Sell more advertising space. This’ll be the first month one of our girls isn’t in one of your magazines. I’m going to come round there with a bottle of Chanel and pour it into your eyes.”
    It shocking to hear a woman talk like that. I know it shouldn’t be, but it was. Polly wasn’t a man trapped in a woman’s body, though. She was an ever-hungry tiger trapped in a woman’s body. She did make us bookers smile with outbursts like this. I think it was partly a relief that somebody else was drawing her ire. Although, this morning, I didn’t feel like smiling.
    Tania, one of the other bookers, smiled at me. But I didn’t have it in me to smile back, so I shrugged.
    I enjoy my job. If a booker becomes too intense about the process, it’s easy to operate like the stereotypical car-salesman: “Got a couple of early models here, good condition, not many miles on the road, careful owners.” But I’ve never taken that approach with the girls I represent. I take a more laid-back approach. Sometimes I forget to mention the models at all when I’m talking fashion editors or advertising execs. Except Anna. In fact, I’d probably mentioned her too much and ruined her chances with overexposure.
    I was glad to get out of the office that evening. The train home was usually less busy than the morning commute. This was because I avoided the heave of the rush-hour, sometimes working late just to avoid the crush.  
    Walking along the platform at Waterloo, I glanced at the first class carriage. I don’t know what I would have done if that annoying stranger had been there — that annoying but very handsome stranger. Actually, I do know what I would have done. I’d have bowed my head and kept walking. How dare he assume that I was single, claim that he had special powers of observation which told him so.  
    But confidence is attractive. I’ll give him that.
    It’s an uncertain world, and a person who can fly in the face of that does possess a certain allure. Not to mention the fact that he was… I hate to use the word… but he was… hot.
    Anyway, I tucked myself away with the evening’s free copy of the Evening Standard and wondered what to cook when I got home. I had to be in the mood to cook, and tonight I wasn’t. I’d just knock up