More Than You Know Read Online Free PDF Page A

an office boy for six months in a big insurance company. His sharp eyes had led him to where he was sure a lot of money lay: the world of property.
    Big buildings were going up all over London: the company he was working for insured some of the smaller ones; Matt always read very carefully the memos he carried about from office to office, realising how much he would learn from them, and one of the girls who worked in the typing pool and who fancied him would supply—in all innocence—information on the figures she typed up all day during an evening at the pictures or in a coffee bar. She didn’t realise she was doing this, just found Matt’s interest in her work rather touching.
    It was small-beer stuff, a few thousand here and there, but Matt would work out for himself how the thousands would multiply to the power of millions for the big boys behind the big buildings. And it wasn’t just the money; he felt a sense of genuine excitement as he travelled to work each morning on the bus—watching the buildings grow, watching London turn modern, as he put it, staring at the bomb sites that still scarred it, and wondering what might be growing shortly in their place. He had read in his Daily Mirror that the money spent on new buildings had almost doubled in the past ten years. It seemed very clear to Matt that this was the industry to go into.
    When he left the army, he’d decided to get a job with one of the commercial estate agents that were multiplying almost daily; he could earn at least eight pounds a week just for starters. The sky towards which thegreat towers soared could be literally the limit. And Matt would have a part of it.
    That was his dream, at any rate.

    “So—any news?” Charles said as they drove towards Kensington. “Got a job yet?”
    “Not really,” said Eliza. “I mean, I’ve got one, but it’s not what I want; I’m just a secretary.”
    “So, what do you want exactly?”
    “Well, I’d like to get into the fashion business, work on a magazine maybe, but I haven’t quite got there yet.”
    “Jolly good. I can’t say I quite understand, but—”
    “It’s very simple. I want a career; I don’t just want to get married. Well, I do one day, but I certainly don’t see getting a rich husband as the be-all and end-all, even if it is what Mummy and Daddy hope for.”
    “They’re struggling a bit, aren’t they?”
    “I really think they are. And the house is a huge expense and worry, lovely as it is. Incidentally, I thought he was rather sweet, your Mr. Shaw. Awfully good-looking.”
    “Is he? I hadn’t noticed. Eliza, do look out; you nearly knocked that chap off his bike. Now tell me about your flatmates. Anyone I know? And where are we going tonight? I’m ready for a bit of fun, I can tell you.”

    Sarah took a deep breath; she had to broach this subject; she couldn’t leave it any longer.
    “Adrian?”
    He was deep in an article in the Telegraph . They were having breakfast outside.
    “Interesting. They could start work on this Channel Tunnel in two years. I can’t believe it. Wonder if it’d be a good investment.”
    “Adrian, please don’t talk about investment. We can’t afford to buy as much as a premium bond at the moment. And anyway, if—”
    “If what, my love?”
    She stopped somehow. She’d been about to say one of the unforgivablethings, about how Adrian’s investments had invariably left them worse off.
    “If we did have any money, we’d need to spend it on Summercourt.”
    “On what exactly? Seems fine to me.”
    “It isn’t fine, Adrian. It needs painting, the whole house, outside, every door and window, and that would cost at least five hundred pounds. And there’s damp in the cornices of some of the top bedrooms; I think there’s quite a lot of water getting in. Really and truly we need a new roof, you know. Mr. Travers warned us about that last time he replaced the slates, said he couldn’t patch it all up indefinitely.”
    “Now, darling,