The Love She Left Behind Read Online Free PDF

asked.
    â€˜Newcastle.’
    â€˜You’re doing a BA . . .’
    â€˜MA.’
    â€˜In—’
    â€˜Media and communications.’
    Patrick snorted into his wine glass. This was all very awkward. Nigel thought the girl looked like she almost certainly was a student, although she seemed very groomed and self-confident. Young people were now though, weren’t they? She could be any age from twenty to thirty. She could be a journalist, and lying through her teeth.
    â€˜I’m really so sorry about your mother; she was so nice to me when I emailed. I was really looking forward to meeting her. Ishould’ve double-checked or rung—it was just—I didn’t think. Stupid of me.’
    â€˜It was all very sudden,’ said Louise emphatically.
    If only she hadn’t come from so far away.
    â€˜Listen,’ said Nigel, ‘this isn’t ideal, obviously. Why don’t we reimburse you for your fare or petrol, or whatever, and you can arrange with Patrick to come down in a month or two?’
    Patrick reared at this. ‘Why the hell should she? The poor girl’s here now.’
    â€˜Well—’
    â€˜Course, totally, I’m really sorry about all this—’
    â€˜It’s not your fault, God—’
    â€˜Don’t listen to this lot—’
    â€˜About inconveniencing you—’
    â€˜You aren’t.’ Patrick was definitive. ‘I’m not inconvenienced. It’s a delight to have you here. What did you arrange with Sara?’
    Mia’s eyes flicked around the three of them, assessing hierarchies.
    â€˜That I’d come and talk to you. She offered for me to stay . . . she said it wouldn’t be a good idea to talk for more than a couple of hours at a time, because of your work. I mean, it started when I emailed—I just wanted to email you the questions, but she said you don’t do email?’
    â€˜I prefer the old ways.’
    â€˜Yeah. So . . . it wouldn’t be like, days.’
    He could check the computer, thought Nigel. The emails would give him some sense of the girl’s credibility, along with ringing the university. For now, he may as well keep Patrick sweet.
    â€˜Holly has to get back to school,’ Louise said suddenly. No one could see the point of this. ‘If you’re wanting me.’ No one wanted her. ‘Maybe you should book yourself into the B and B up theroad,’ she said to Mia. ‘I mean, tonight’s okay, but after that. With the house. Patrick’s not . . . there’s no one to cook or anything.’
    â€˜Oh, I could do that,’ said Mia. ‘I love to cook. Don’t get much chance at uni!’
    She really was hot to trot, wasn’t she?
    Louise’s face set. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t matter to keep Holly off until the end of the week. She’s still a bit off-colour. Then I can see to you all.’
    â€˜You heard the girl,’ said Patrick. ‘She’ll see to me.’
    The innuendo eddied, unintended.
    â€˜I feel awful,’ Mia repeated, her poise unassailed. ‘Look, you’re right, Mr Conway—’
    â€˜Nigel, please. It’s not Conway, I’m his stepson—it’s Dean, actually. But Nigel.’
    â€˜Oh God, sorry, duh, Mia. Listen, I’ll go back in the morning, don’t worry about the fare—’
    â€˜Stay!’
    Patrick slammed the tabletop so hard that the plates jumped. They all stilled. Nigel felt he should be taking command of the situation, but he could never thump anything like that. In the ensuing silence, his stomach bubbled appeasingly. It was a small mercy, he realised, that his hay fever hadn’t made a reappearance.
    â€˜We’ll stay until Friday, then,’ said Louise. ‘It’s not a problem.’ She smiled, forcing her mouth. ‘Does anyone fancy a yogurt?’
    There were no takers.
    Â 
    May 19, 1978
    Cobham Gdns
    Dearest