Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [79]
She’d finished the day at the temping job, after their conversation, working on her pathetic cough and pained expression, and excused herself early the next morning with a fake croak in her voice, and a sincere apology for letting people down, although the guy she’d been working for had been more of the “collect my dry cleaning and brew my tea” kind of boss than usual, and she wasn’t, in truth, all that sorry. He’d manage. Her absence would not be a major spoke in the wheels of industry. One day she really ought to think about doing something important. She’d caught the train straight afterward, getting to Paddington, in her customary manner, with seconds to spare, and collapsing, panting, into a vacant seat. She liked long train journeys. She loved to watch the changing landscape. When you caught a plane, once you got to thirty-five thousand feet, everything was off-white cloud, and landing somewhere where the scenery and the weather were completely different from where you embarked was a discombobulating experience. On a train you watched it change. She loved leaving London, with its relentless urbanity, row on row of terraced cottages built too close to the line, discarded shopping trolleys clinging onto steep banks, plumes of smoke, and seeing the countryside open out, greener and wilder with each rhythmic mile. It was quiet, this mid-January midweek train. Eventually, the carriage had disgorged most of Amanda’s traveling companions, and she was alone, her nearest fellow passengers several rows away. She slept a little, balling up her Dr. Who scarf into a pillow, finished the Sarah Dunant, plus a couple of discarded newspapers. She had texted Lisa, letting her know she would be away for a few days. It felt good, to be escaping. Wasn’t that what she always did? But it felt better to be heading toward Ed. This was different.
And now here he was. It was weird. This was only the fourth or fifth time they’d ever said hello in person. She was aware, as he hugged her, that they hadn’t quite figured out how their bodies fit together, standing up. They were better at lying down, she realized. He kissed her once, on the mouth, and then pulled her back into the hug. It was strange to be reunited with someone with whom she’d been so intimate, but about whom she still knew relatively little.
“You smell different.”
“That’s my country smell.”
“You look different, too. Is that a Barbour you’re wearing?” She stood back and looked him up and down appraisingly.
He smirked at her.
“Indeed. This is Squire Ed, an incarnation you haven’t met before. All waxed jacket and wet gun dog.”
“When’s the next train back?”
He adopted a Mellors accent. “Ah, m’lady, that’ll be next Tuesday, I reckon.”
“Bugger. Guess I’ll have to stay, then.”
“You’ll have to stay. Mum’ll have a Barbour you can borrow.”
“Get lost. Not in a million.”
“You say that now, m’lady, fresh from town, but give it a couple of days, and you’ll go native like the rest of us.”
“We’ll see.”
They laughed, delighted at the easy return of the easy banter, and Ed hoisted her rucksack on his shoulder, taking her hand with his other arm. “Come on, it’s freezing.”
She giggled again when he opened the door to an unlocked, ravaged old Land Rover. “You are joking! The transformation is complete, you bumpkin!”
“Dad totaled his car, I’m afraid. And Mum’s got hers at the hospital. It was this or horse.”
“Of course.” Then, “You have horses?”
“No. No horses. Would horses have been a problem?”
“Can’t stand them. Got thrown off once. All my mates were into riding, when we were about, I don’t know, ten. Just before boys, you know. They talked me into going with them one day. Happened first time. Thought the bloody thing was going to trample