The Alembic Valise Read Online Free PDF Page A

Irish and there were four daughters, each one more beautiful than the next. They all had freckles, reddish hair, almost golden complexions, terrific cheekbones and hypnotic green eyes. Except perhaps daughter number four who she clearly remembered been referred to by a Jamaican school friend, as a real bunga tuffy. So striking was Jim’s physical similarity to those hybrid honeys from Sophie’s schooldays she had wondered if they could be related to one another. She had also been filled with a deep and powerful urge to jump his bones; a thought that she had immediately expunged from her mind; too busy, too much to do, and the certainty that any kind of engagement was more likely to produce pain than the inverse. See here, she had told herself, you are older and wiser; do not board the crazy train.
    She and Joel had split up a year ago after an abortive fling. The timing had been wrong, he was still in pointless grieving mode for his previous relationship and she had overwhelmed him with her intensity of need, or was that the other way round? Maybe so, she thought. After they split up she had begun watching his boat. She once followed him to the station. She had then thrown herself into her work and thus stepped back from the brink of obsession. Now she was obsessive and compulsive about other less emotionally critical areas of life.
    Sophie closed the lid of the laptop, pushed back her chair, leaving the pilgrim’s badge and her notes on the desk and danced down the first few steps of the staircase. She was meeting Jim tonight having immediately agreed to a date when he called.

    Jim gunned the engine of the Maserati, making the wheels spin in the gravel of the courtyard outside his flat, before nosing out into the evening traffic. Heading for a supper engagement at the house at Regents Park where his father lived with wife number three. But first he had to swing by the Gate and pick up Sophie.
    A flashing blue light appeared in his mirrors, then with a truncated warble from its siren the car powered past him. Jim was especially attuned to police vehicles. If the cops inside them were between calls they had a tendency to pull him over. It was to be expected. There were not many six foot three, dread-locked brown men driving Maseratis in this or any other part of London. He usually just flashed the dental work and aired the cut glass accent and they sent him on his way with a patronising smile and a nod.
    It was to be the first visit to his dad’s place with Sophie. He had thought of trying to prep her for the meeting but there was, he decided little point as his old man was a “character” and everybody liked him from the get-go. It seemed that only he knew what a cold-hearted bastard his father was, only him, the two ex wives and several business rivals that were no longer on this mortal coil.
    Sophie was wearing a green linen trouser suit and a cream blouse. In her high heels she was almost as tall as Jim. As they drove towards Regents Park they were both quiet. The voice coming from the stereo opined that he was ‘out of reach, can’t take no more’.
    “Blues singers,” she said. “Always complaining aren’t they?” Her date just smiled.
    Because they were early they had decided to have a drink at a nearby pub. The place was crowded but nobody was taking any notice as Sophie ran some lipstick around her lips then pouted and stuck her tongue out at him. He leant forward and reaching out gripped her left earlobe, drew her forward and mashed his lips into hers. She tasted good.
    “Hey. You’re smudging me,” She whispered.
    Sophie’s bloody Mary was half way down the tall glass already but Jim’s glass was untouched; he took a long drink.
    “Look Soph, you know I told you I grew up in Epsom, and that is kind of true, but before that I, I mean we, did live in St Pauls, in Bristol.” He looked into her eyes, which she narrowed in a cartoon manner. “My old man is bound to mention the old days. So I thought