An Affair to Remember by Virginia Budd Read Free Book Online Page B

the hill and down the other side and there’s Brown End. You can’t miss it, there’s nowhere else for miles.”
    Be that as it may, she’d already got caught up in the one-way system in Belchester, and annoyingly found herself back on the London road, and is by no means sure even now she’s taken the right road out of town: as always when you want them, there seems a complete dearth of signs. Hoping for the best, she drives steadily on through the lush summer countryside, out of Essex into Suffolk – she sees a sign to tell her so – and at last, just as she’s become absolutely certain she is on the wrong road, a signpost comes up on her right and, wonder of wonders, it’s pointing to Kimbleford, two miles. Thank God for that!
    Only four weeks since the night of her disastrous meeting with Wain Steerforth and finding the ad in The Lady , and here she is already starting a new life. How’s that for a bit of get up and go. And it wasn’t only the mysterious voice in her head that had done it, although that had certainly acted as some sort of catalyst – strangely enough ever since she’d decided to take the job with Selwyn Woodhead, it had left her alone – she’d known for months now, but refused to face up to it, she needed to do something new with her life; escape the stupid, aimless cage she had somehow managed to make for herself over the last few years; that she was thirty-two years old and if she didn’t act soon she probably never would.
    Syl had helped compose the letter to the unknown advertiser that very night, and after several glasses of gin and water, when completed their joint effort had appeared sparkling, even witty; her CV both concise and positive, her previous experience impressive. However, reading the thing through the following morning with a blinding headache, what had seemed so sparklingly witty last night, this morning seemed not only facetious but boastful and conceited to boot. She’d posted the letter nevertheless; what had she got to lose after all, they, whoever they were, probably wouldn’t have replied whatever she’d written. “For goodness sake don’t be so negative,” Syl had said, “if you spend your life predicting the worst you’ll never get anywhere. Anyway as far as I can see you’re exactly the sort of person this guy (I’m assuming it’s a guy) needs.” And, to the surprise of them both, she’d been proved right.
    Three days later, back from work and washing her hair, the phone rang. “Yes?” she’d said crossly, a towel wrapped round her head, water dripping.
    “Miss Travers? I’m ringing about your delightful letter. Selwyn Woodhead here.” The voice was soft, mellifluous; the hint of a drawl, hadn’t she heard that name before somewhere? A spasm of excitement shot through her; she’d made it, who’d have thought, it shows what drink can do for you.
    “Speaking.”
    “Splendid. Firstly, Beatrice – you don’t mind me calling you Beatrice, do you, surnames are such a bore, don’t you agree? I liked your letter so much, and as I’m sure you’ll appreciate I’ve received quite a number. Secondly, I haven’t a great deal of time as I’m only in the Great Wen on a flying visit, which means we need to meet as soon as possible. Can you make seven o’clock in the bar of the Royal Garden? I’ll wear a pink carnation in my buttonhole just in case you’ve been lucky enough not to have encountered my ugly mug on the box.” Light dawned, that Selwyn Woodhead.
    “That would be great Mr Woodhead, I’ll look forward to it. When exactly –?”
    “Tonight, my dear, tonight. Sorry to rush you, but as I said, I’m on a flying visit and need to get things settled before I leave town.” Oh God, she’d never make it, it was after six already. But she must. This was fate with a vengeance, she had no option.
    “Tonight would be fine, Mr Woodhead, only I may be a little late. I’ve only just got back from work, you see, and it’s already…” But