(1992) Prophecy by Peter James Read Free Book Online Page A

presented and poured. She became increasingly surprised at the things they had in common. Attitudes and interests. She told him how she had first become interested in archaeology as a child, from a book on the Romans at school, and had persuaded her parents to take her to stately homes and museums at weekends.
    Oliver elaborated on his love of mathematics and how he believed that it was both an art and a science, one which could ultimately solve all the mysteries of the universe. She talked about her love of archaeology and how she believed that it was through uncovering the secrets of the past that the mysteries of the universe would be solved.
    Finally, Frannie noticed there was no one left in the courtyard except themselves. She looked at her watch, and saw with shock that it was four o’clock.
    Oliver took her back to the Museum in a taxi, and asked her if she would have a meal with him on Friday. She told him she would like that very much.
    She hurried back up the steps into the shadow of the colonnaded portals, stepping on air, her guilt at being so late back cushioned by the haze of alcohol.
    An hour later, as she began to sober up, she had a slight sense of unease about Oliver and she was not sure why. He seemed almost too good to be true. It was as if there was something about him that did not totally fit together; a piece missing from the equation. Something about himself that he wasn’t telling her, perhaps; that he was either hiding or holding back. And she was still bothered, also, by the feeling that she had seen him before.
    Normally Frannie was confident and looked on the bright side and she found it unsettling to feel this way. All the more so as she realized quite how deeply she fancied him.

C HAPTER F IVE
    Debbie Johnson rang her late on Wednesday evening, curious to know how her date had turned out. Just back from her aerobics, Frannie tried not to say too much, afraid it might be bad luck to talk about it too soon. She promised to call her friend back on Saturday and report on Friday’s date.
    As she hung up, the phone rang again. It was Oliver. He apologized for having made her so late in getting back to work on Tuesday afternoon and she told him it had not mattered, although actually she’d been carpeted by the unpredictable Declan O’Hare. They chatted easily. He asked her what she had been doing at work and she told him she had spent the day cataloguing Indian daggers and had then been to her aerobics class; and he said he had just got back from playing tennis. There had been a pause in which she had been tempted to say, ‘Why don’t you come over?’ but she did not want to seem pushy or too keen. It was enough that he had called. And she was secretly pleased that at nine o’clock he was at home and not out on a date.
    On Thursday evening she washed her hair but could not settle down and relax. She was unable to concentrate on reading, or on the television and instead spring-cleaned the flat. She knew she was behaving like a besotted teenager and was angry with herself. But she could not help it.
    On Friday she left work punctually at half past five and hurried home, having a sudden, uncustomary panic about what to wear. She unhooked the black dress, a high-street version of Chanel, which she haddecided on. She liked it because it was short and neat, but she was worried in case it didn’t make her look attractive enough for Oliver Halkin. She tugged several more outfits out, but nothing else looked right, so it was going to have to do.
    A narrow rectangle of sunlight lay across the bedroom floor, touching the edge of the white rug she had bought in Petticoat Lane a few months ago to try to brighten up the room. Sometimes it could feel dark and oppressive even though the walls were white and the ceiling was high, and at times it had an atmosphere that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. A window opened on to a basement well which only accentuated the subterranean feel of the