Nomance, T Price [bookreader .TXT] 📗
- Author: T Price
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A tall, slim man, notyouthfully dressed, although he looked younger than the fairies shehad met outside, handed her a glass of wine and asked, ‘Aren’t youLynne’s sister?’
‘No, I’m Gwynne’ssister.’
‘Gwynne?’ The manexclaimed, delighted to hear the name. ‘I haven’t seen the oldreprobate in two years.’ He gave Carla a fond smile. ‘I never knewhe had a baby sister.’ Carla stared at him and did not reply. Hissmile faltered a little, then, as in a dream, she heard him say,‘Anyway, two years, eh? A long time. But of course, it’s so easy tolose touch with these jet-setting foreign correspondents. Andstepping on that land mine hasn’t slowed him down one bit, has it?By the way, where is he now?’
Carla responded in aslow, even voice, ‘Who? Gwynne?’
‘Hmm, Gwynne.’
‘As far as I know he’sstill working at the EasyHomes DIY Superstore. But he’sliving with that Charmaine, so I wouldn’t know for sure.’
‘The EasyHomesSuperstone?’ The man said, his smile faltering once again. ‘Ishe covering consumer issues now, or something?’
‘No, he’s an assistantin the Timber and Gardening Department. Unless his newband’s been signed up for a recording contract. I expect he’d haveto leave if he started making albums.’
Carla couldn’t helpnoticing how this simple statement stunned the guy. It was then shebegan to wonder how the hell this bloke in Ladbroke Grove happenedto know Gwynne. Her brother’s social horizons seemed to haveexpanded even beyond Hammersmith. Perhaps he was a pop star now,after all.
That settled it, shewas never going to turn the radio on again.
‘Strange, I brought abox of screws and some shelving only last week,’ the man said atlast.
Carla stared at him.‘That’s interesting.’
He winced. ‘Well, whatI meant is, I went to the EasyHomes DIY place recently and,er, I didn’t see him there.’
‘You wouldn’t though,would you? Like I say, he works in Timber and Gardening, notShelving and Screws.’
‘Ah, that explains itthen. Timber and Gardening.’ He was looking unhappy now.‘Trouble is, we don’t have a garden as such.’
Carla was unable toconceal her disgust. ‘The oldest excuse in the book.’
‘But we do go to theodd concert occasionally,’ he added, by way of an apology. ‘You sayGwynne’s in a band? So then, there’s a chance we may bump into eachother after all. That would be nice.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Ibelieve he used to be in a band before.’
‘He was in a bandbefore, yes.’
‘Is this a new one, ora revival of the original?’
‘No. This lot work inthe warehouse too.’
‘Do they? Crikey. A newband then . . . what kind of music do they play? ’Eighties classicsI expect.’
‘No. I think it’scalled Psycho House.’
The man gaped at Carla.He kept on doing that, didn’t he? Just what was the matter withthis drip? She might be disorientated by drugs, but that wouldn’tstop her getting aggravated by a drip.
She snapped at him,‘It’s just a racket though! No one will ever buy it, even thoughthey’re called The Dead Dianas. I told him, a great name onits own isn’t enough.’
‘No, I daresay itisn’t.’ The fellow murmured, just as if (of all things!) he wassorry that Gwynne would continue to be a miserable failure. Thatwas bad enough, but what he did now was try and talk up the swine!‘You know though, Carla, thinking about it, playing in a PsychoHouse band at his age, and with only one leg . . . well, it’s anexample to us all. Gwynne was always young at heart, triple bypassor no.’
‘Only one leg?’ Carlawas affronted. ‘He’s got more than that!’
The man wassympathetic. ‘No, he hasn’t, dear. It was in all the papers.’
‘I don’t read thepapers,’ Carla assured him, like her life depended on it. However,she was already wondering how long it would be before Gwynne was onthe telly too. Might there be no escape?
‘Well, I did hear hewas in denial. Which, in a way, is quite an achievement in itself,’the man reflected. ‘Still, lets forget I mentioned it. In any case,he’s in a Psycho House band now, so it sounds like it hasn’tstopped him living life to the full. And did you say he’s settleddown with someone? That’s just brilliant. At long last, eh?Charmaine you say? You know, I’ve never thought of that as a boy’sname.’
Carla finally lostpatience with these imbecilities. ‘Are you on drugs too?’
It was a simple enoughquestion and yet the guy didn’t seem to have an answer. That’s howfar gone he was. Carla gave him a dirty look and knocked her wineback in one. She needed it.
When she looked again,the weird, jumpy geezer was gone.
She turned a fullcircle, but there was no sight of him. Troubled, she examined hersurroundings again and began to wonder whether she had come to theright address. It was a strange place for anyone to live in. Barewooden boards and odd furnishings, many in buffed steel, made it insome ways reminiscent of Gerald Lytton’s fancy clinic.
The thought of theclinic gave Carla a queasy sensation. She shut her eyes for amoment and waited for her stomach to settle down. When she openedthem again, she found a small, frail woman with huge glisteningeyes standing in front of her.
Carla looked the greasypixie up and down, but without comprehension.
It spoke, ‘Hi, I’mTamsin. Feeling alright, dear?’
Carla handed Tamsin theempty wine glass. ‘Just so tired, really. I can’t seem to sleepnights. I’d like to complain, but I’m scared he’ll get angry and,you know, do stuff.’
Tamsin gave her a“knowing woman of the world” look. Carla knew this look well. Itwas affected by many of her customers in Kew. ‘It’s your neighboursis it?’ Tamsin commiserated. ‘They can be such noisy bastards,can’t they?’
Carla frowned. ‘I havefabulous neighbours. Golden, they are. They’ve both got Alzheimer’sand I never hear a peep out of them. No, it’s the doctor we have toworry about. He has to be stopped and stopped soon, before he ruinsmore lives.’
‘The doctor? MyGod, what did he do?’
‘Artificiallyinseminated me.’
At that, Tamsin’s“knowing woman of the world” hit a brick wall.
Smiling with grimsatisfaction, Carla went on, ‘I wouldn’t worry so much if it was mybaby
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