The Travelling Companion Read Online Free PDF Page B

hot-foots it down to Bournemouth to make sure his old pal isn’t going to crack. Maybe he leans on him, but my hunch is he finds it a lot easier to enlist Fanny instead. She thinks she’s succeeded when Louis shows her the burning pages. He then rewrites the story, shifting location from Edinburgh to London and changing Hythe to Hyde …”
    â€œWas he a doctor?”
    â€œI’m sorry?”
    I met Turk’s look. “Was Edwin Hythe a doctor?”
    I watched him shake his head. I had emptied my glass and refilled it without thinking. “How do you know all this?”
    â€œIt’s a tale passed down through my family.”
    â€œWhy, though?”
    â€œAs a warning maybe.”
    â€œYou’re a Hythe,” I stated, maintaining eye contact.
    He eventually let out a snort of laughter. “I sincerely hope not.” And he raised his own glass in a toast.
    â€œCan I see the whole story?”
    â€œWhich one?”
    â€œBoth.”
    â€œIn good time.”
    â€œWhy not now?”
    â€œBecause I’m not sure you’re ready.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    But he just shook his head.
    â€œIt’s like water torture,” I ploughed on. “One page, two pages, three …”
    â€œWhen I said that you weren’t ready, I meant me— I’m not ready to let go, not just yet.”
    â€œAnd after all these generations, why me?”
    He offered a tired shrug. “I’m the last of my line. Maybe that’s reason enough. How about you?”
    â€œMe?”
    â€œBrothers … ? Sisters … ?”
    â€œAn only child.”
    â€œWe have that in common, too, then.” He yawned and stretched. “Forgive me, I think I need some sleep.”
    â€œI could stay here and read.”
    He shook his head again. “Perhaps tomorrow.” He rose to his feet and gestured for me to do the same. As he accompanied me down the hall, helping me into my jacket, I felt the negative mirror image of his fatigue. I was crackling with energy, a need to be in movement, a need for activity and exertion.
    â€œI saw your friend,” I told him. “She was passing the shop.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œAlice, with the blond hair.”
    â€œAlice,” he echoed.
    â€œI just thought I’d say.”
    â€œThank you.” He pulled open the door and I skipped out, almost dancing down the stone stairs. She was waiting, of course—at the same spot across the street, wearing her floral dress and looking cold. I slipped off my jacket and placed it around her, then led her by the hand.
    â€œWhere are we going?” she asked.
    â€œThe river. I feel like walking.”
    There were no tourist boats at this hour, just a few silent lovers and noisy drunks.
    â€œDo you live with him?” I asked her.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œSo where do you live?”
    â€œNot far.”
    â€œCan we go there?”
    â€œNo.” She sounded almost aghast at the idea.
    â€œMy room back at the shop then,” I offered.
    â€œWhy would I go anywhere with you?”
    â€œBecause you kissed me.”
    â€œI shouldn’t have done that.”
    â€œI’m glad you did though.” I came to a halt, facing her. “I’d like it to happen again.”
    She took a few moments to make her mind up, then stroked my face again, this time with both hands, as though checking that I really was flesh and blood. I leaned in and our lips met, mouths opening. But partway through, she started to laugh, easing away from me. I tried for a disappointed look, and she had the good grace to look slightly ashamed.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just …”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothing.” She shook her head, but then perked up and grabbed my hand, leading me along the riverfront towards the nearest brightly-lit bridge. “We can cross to the other side.”
    â€œWhy would we do