What You Wish For Read Online Free PDF Page A

were clenched.
    ‘I’d better get going,’ he said to Marie, who still didn’t look at him, pretending to be fascinated by a one-legged pigeon pecking at a discarded chicken nugget. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He nodded goodbye to me and walked off, holding himself straight, his hands in his trouser pockets.
    ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said again.
    ‘Don’t worry, honestly.’
    I waited to see if she would say any more, tell me what the argument had been about. After a long pause I said, ‘So what do you want to do? Eat, drink? Play Crazy Golf?’
    She laughed. ‘You really know how to spoil a girl.’ She took hold of my hand and said, ‘Let’s just walk.’
    We walked down to the beach and trod along the pebbles, still hold ing hands. Hers was very warm. My heart was doing all sorts of strange acrobatic things in my chest. There were still people sunbathing, even though most of the heat had gone out of the sun by this time of the day.
    ‘What were you and Andrew arguing about?’ I asked, unable to hold back any longer.
    ‘We weren’t really arguing,’ she replied. ‘We were having a discussion. We’re going to a convention in London tomorrow and we were talking about which train to catch. Andrew wants to leave ridiculously early to get there before the doors open, but I don’t see the point.’
    It seemed a rather petty thing to be arguing so vehemently about, but I didn’t want to push it. I asked, ‘What kind of convention ?’
    ‘It’s called Encounters.’
    ‘Let me guess – it’s about online dating.’
    ‘Very amusing. It’s actually a convention for people who are interested in UFOs and alien abductions. It should be really interesting. There are some visiting American researchers who are going to give some lectures, and there’s this guy who used to work for the FBI . . .’
    ‘A real-life Fox Mulder!’
    ‘Sort of. And basically people can get together and discuss their beliefs and experiences and hopefully learn something.’
    ‘And buy the merchandise.’
    ‘You really are a cynic.’ She stooped to pick up a pebble that had caught her eye. It was smooth and round and green. She offered it to me. ‘Here, have a present.’
    Her face took on a serious expression. ‘Please don’t mock me, Richard. If you want to be my friend, you don’t have to believe too, but you do have to accept that it’s what I believe. Do you think you can cope with that?’
    She fixed her huge eyes on me and I felt myself melting.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I do respect your beliefs. Really.’
    ‘OK,’ she said, after a long pause. ‘Though you’re right to be cynical about these conventions. They do attract some real weirdos. But Andrew thinks this will be a good one.’
    ‘I would like to know more about what you believe in,’ I said.
    She gestured across the road. By accident or design she had led us to her flat.
    ‘Come in and I’ll tell you.’
    The hallway smelt of fried eggs and dog hair. We climbed six steep flights of stairs to reach Marie’s front door. ‘Welcome to paradise,’ she said, pushing open the door.
    She lived in a box-room with just enough space for a single bed and a wardrobe. A door to the left revealed the smallest bathroom I had ever seen: just a sink and a shower in a space the size of an airing cupboard. She had a Baby Belling cooker and a tiny fridge – more a coldbox, really. The walls were papered with pictures of extraterrestrials, stills from the Roswell autopsy among them. An ancient-looking PC gathered dust on the floor beside a litter tray. There was a cat sitting on the bed, purring and dribbling on the quilt.
    Marie sat beside the cat and stroked its beige and brown fur. ‘This is Calico.’
    ‘Hello, Calico,’ I said, stroking the cat, which looked pretty old. Its purr rattled like an old motorbike that needed attention.
    ‘I’ve had him since I was nine,’ Marie said. ‘When I left my mum’s house I couldn’t bear to leave him