|
Dudley Chalk was in a medically-induced coma, but he had a job to do...
|
Wishing
Chapter 5
Moving her feet and looking down -- like someone practising a dance move -- she said, “it’s a deal.” She looked up, biting her bottom lip slightly and Adam was hypnotized by it. “Half the people here are lying through their teeth anyway,” she said. “Apart from that man over there who has recreated scenes from the film ‘Zulu’ in his back garden, which I suspect may be true. So who are you going to be? I’m going to keep calling you Gideon all night so you might as well get used to it.”
“Oh, won’t people rush to get a chair if I say ‘Hello, I’m Gideon Faint’?”
“Seriously, that would be fantastic wouldn't it?” she said, emptying her glass at the exactly the same time as Adam emptied his. “Let’s get a refill. We need it. So what about me? Who shall I be?
Trying and failing, Adam could think of no other name but Lisa. Her hand on his arm -- a light and playful move -- drew him back to the game.
“Hmmm, well, ok,” he said. “What do you do for a living? What are your hobbies? Let’s find some inspiration in what you like to do.”
Angling her head up and away she searched for answers. Adam saw the line of her jaw and the sweep of her neck and wished desperately that he were artistic.
“Unless you like ghosts, I can't come up with anything,” she said.
“No, really? Ghosts?”
“Terribly over-hyped if you ask me, but yes, the company I work for, Surrenden Associates, is based near a village where almost every building claims to be haunted. I kid you not. Not ours, thankfully, it's not that old.”
“Ever seen one of them?”
“Don't think so,” Lisa said, “though my secretary is very pale and I often wonder about her. The village has lots of them, apparently. Ghosts I mean, not secretaries. We have a White Lady, obviously. And a highwayman I think. And, believe it or not, a Red Lady.”
Verbalising his thoughts with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm, he said, “I would very much like to see her.”
Instantly Lisa fought off a smile. She looked into his eyes with the mischief that so characterised the writer of the note, and said, “Any time Gideon. West of Ashford, south of the M20, you can't miss it.”
Laughing, he said thanks.
Lisa took in a thoughtful breath. “Hobbies, hobbies,” she continued. “Not much inspiration there either. Mostly I read.”
Adam asked what she was currently reading and she said A Brief History of time by Stephen Hawking.
“Goodness me, some light bedtime reading?”
“Entertaining stuff Adam, have you read it? It’s a real page turner.”
They looked at each other and spontaneously laughed. Clutching each other’s hands seemed almost natural.
“Hello Paige Turner,” he said.
“Hello Gideon Faint.”
She held out a hand, palm down, fingers perfectly relaxed, and Adam raised it to his lips and kissed it. She smiled. Adam's intake of breath was more satisfying than any nicotine-filled inhale.
Mrs Bishop, who apparently learned her hostess technique from watching a pinball machine, hurtled up to them and beamed in uncontrolled delight. She flashed a pleased look at Lisa while speaking to Adam. “How are you dear?” she asked.
“Gideon Faint,” he said.
“Well, perhaps you should eat something. There’s vol-au-vents, sausages on…” and then she was gone, departing with a congratulatory look.
After yet another drink they thrashed out the occupations of these two fictitious people. Paige Turner, quite rightly, was a best-selling novelist. Adam’s hobby list wasn’t proving very fruitful and Lisa suggested that he said the first thing that popped into his head. His expression prompted her to suggest he use the second thing that popped into his head.
Adam scoured his creative tap salesman’s brain for inspiration and came up with the very second thing he thought of.
“Forensic Poet,” he said.
Moving her feet and looking down -- like someone practising a dance move -- she said, “it’s a deal.” She looked up, biting her bottom lip slightly and Adam was hypnotized by it. “Half the people here are lying through their teeth anyway,” she said. “Apart from that man over there who has recreated scenes from the film ‘Zulu’ in his back garden, which I suspect may be true. So who are you going to be? I’m going to keep calling you Gideon all night so you might as well get used to it.”
“Oh, won’t people rush to get a chair if I say ‘Hello, I’m Gideon Faint’?”
“Seriously, that would be fantastic wouldn't it?” she said, emptying her glass at the exactly the same time as Adam emptied his. “Let’s get a refill. We need it. So what about me? Who shall I be?
Trying and failing, Adam could think of no other name but Lisa. Her hand on his arm -- a light and playful move -- drew him back to the game.
“Hmmm, well, ok,” he said. “What do you do for a living? What are your hobbies? Let’s find some inspiration in what you like to do.”
Angling her head up and away she searched for answers. Adam saw the line of her jaw and the sweep of her neck and wished desperately that he were artistic.
“Unless you like ghosts, I can't come up with anything,” she said.
“No, really? Ghosts?”
“Terribly over-hyped if you ask me, but yes, the company I work for, Surrenden Associates, is based near a village where almost every building claims to be haunted. I kid you not. Not ours, thankfully, it's not that old.”
“Ever seen one of them?”
“Don't think so,” Lisa said, “though my secretary is very pale and I often wonder about her. The village has lots of them, apparently. Ghosts I mean, not secretaries. We have a White Lady, obviously. And a highwayman I think. And, believe it or not, a Red Lady.”
Verbalising his thoughts with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm, he said, “I would very much like to see her.”
Instantly Lisa fought off a smile. She looked into his eyes with the mischief that so characterised the writer of the note, and said, “Any time Gideon. West of Ashford, south of the M20, you can't miss it.”
Laughing, he said thanks.
Lisa took in a thoughtful breath. “Hobbies, hobbies,” she continued. “Not much inspiration there either. Mostly I read.”
Adam asked what she was currently reading and she said A Brief History of time by Stephen Hawking.
“Goodness me, some light bedtime reading?”
“Entertaining stuff Adam, have you read it? It’s a real page turner.”
They looked at each other and spontaneously laughed. Clutching each other’s hands seemed almost natural.
“Hello Paige Turner,” he said.
“Hello Gideon Faint.”
She held out a hand, palm down, fingers perfectly relaxed, and Adam raised it to his lips and kissed it. She smiled. Adam's intake of breath was more satisfying than any nicotine-filled inhale.
Mrs Bishop, who apparently learned her hostess technique from watching a pinball machine, hurtled up to them and beamed in uncontrolled delight. She flashed a pleased look at Lisa while speaking to Adam. “How are you dear?” she asked.
“Gideon Faint,” he said.
“Well, perhaps you should eat something. There’s vol-au-vents, sausages on…” and then she was gone, departing with a congratulatory look.
After yet another drink they thrashed out the occupations of these two fictitious people. Paige Turner, quite rightly, was a best-selling novelist. Adam’s hobby list wasn’t proving very fruitful and Lisa suggested that he said the first thing that popped into his head. His expression prompted her to suggest he use the second thing that popped into his head.
Adam scoured his creative tap salesman’s brain for inspiration and came up with the very second thing he thought of.
“Forensic Poet,” he said.
