Sex and Other Changes Read Online Free PDF

said.
    â€˜And?’
    â€˜I … bought some blouses.’
    â€˜Ah.’
    â€˜Sober and subtle.’
    â€˜Good.’
    She let out a deep sigh very slowly, so that he wouldn’t notice. The moment of danger had passed.
    They settled down with a celebratory Armagnac at either side of the log-effect fire. He buried his nose in a book. Opposite him, in the Parker Knoll, she studied interior design ideas.
    The sitting room was still bleak too. They had not yet fully occupied their new home. They only had one painting, of dahlias, by his Aunt Jessica. It had been a house-warming present. There were ghastly little lantern lights on the walls, reminiscent of a pub with a Tudor theme. They’d have to go.
    â€˜Do you mind if I go on up?’ she asked, shortly after eleven o’clock.
    â€˜Not at all,’ he said. ‘Do you mind if I try and finish my book?’
    â€˜Of course not,’ she said. How polite they were, she thought with a grimace, for their anniversary. ‘What are you reading?’
    â€˜Tess of the D’Urbevilles
. I really want to know how it ends. Spins a good yarn, Hardy.’ Well, she didn’t know that he’d read it eleven times before he was sixteen.
    She went upstairs with a silent yelp of relief, stripped off, washed between the hated breasts, washed around the loathsome crutch, crept into bed and dreamt of manhood.
    She was only vaguely disturbed when he slid carefully in beside her. She dropped off again almost immediately, but it was an uneasy sleep, and in the morning she realised that she must have been dreaming at a very shallow level, because she seemed to recall that he had been sobbing his heart out there beside her, and that must have been imagination.

4 Unlucky Molluscs
    â€˜Alison?’
    There was something in Nick’s tone that made Alison’s heart beat much faster. She straightened up from the dishwasher. They’d had vegetarian moussaka. Em was going through a veggie phase, and there was no reason why Alison should cook a separate meal for her, so quite often they all had a veggie meal. Gray moaned … well, he moaned for Warwickshire … but there was never anything left on his plate.
    â€˜Yes, Nick?’
    â€˜Could we … go through and have a chat?’
    What could he be on about? He sounded ominously serious.
    â€˜Let me finish the dishwasher and get a coffee. Do you want a coffee?’
    â€˜No, no.’ He waved the question away as intolerably trivial, then realised that sounded rude, so he added, ‘No. No thanks. Sorry.’
    He went through, and she finished loading in her own good time. Whatever Nick’s crisis was, it could wait. It was his fault she was taking so long. He knew her back was stiff, but he never offered to do the dishwasher. ‘I don’t like this new one. It’s badly designed,’ he’d said. ‘I just can’t get the hang of the top shelf.’ Excuses excuses.
    Em was out with her boyfriend as usual, this one seemed serious. Gray was surfing the net as usual, that was serious, they’d lose him to the world if they weren’t careful. Bernie was sitting in the granny flat with poor old Marge as usual. Everything was as usual, except Nick’s tone of voice.
    She made the coffee and took it through, handed Nick his, puthers on the garden bird coaster on the smallest table from the nest of tables, and sat in the Parker Knoll. It was well past its sit-by date, but they were reluctant to let it go; they’d had it at Cranbourne Gardens and at Eckersley Crescent.
    This scene would be etched in Alison’s memory for a very long time. Their cool, cream sitting room looked so placid. The log-effect fire was burning merrily. There were four pictures now, Aunt Jessica’s dahlias having been joined by three more originals, which made it pretty stylish for Throdnall. One was a bold, bright Scottish landscape by John Morrison Lowry, who signed