My Husband's Wife by Amanda Prowse Read Free Book Online Page B

Lovely.’
    Rosie looked at him. He had the most unusual way of speaking, as if he were reading aloud. ‘I shall remember that: “warm crumbs that the weather gods found in their pockets...”’
    ‘This is my first time here but hopefully not the last. I’m quite taken with the cliff walks, the wild sea. It’s unexpected. But as I say, I leave later today.’
    ‘Are you going back to America?’ she asked, always interested to hear about lives very different from hers.
    ‘Yup, eventually, but I have a few more months of travelling the British Isles first, and then it’s back to Portland, Oregon.’ He ran his hand over his neat, short hair.
    Rosie extended her finger and looked into the distance, as if picturing a map.
    ‘So that’s on the opposite side of the country from New York, almost a straight line across, but up a bit, towards Canada, to the south of Seattle.’ She drew a right angle in the air, raising an eyebrow at him, pleased to be able to demonstrate the geography that lurked in her brain, only usually useful for pub quizzes and Pointless .
    ‘Well, I am impressed, there aren’t many people I’ve met around here who could pinpoint my home city on a map!’
    She smiled, chuffed. ‘What are you doing here? Are you on holiday?’
    ‘More of a working holiday. I’m a writer.’
    ‘Oh. What do you write?’ She had never met a writer before.
    ‘I write for the American market: travel books, guides, walks, cuisine.’ He raised his hand and slapped his leg, as if trying to summarise what he did was a tough call.
    ‘And you’re writing about here?’
    ‘An article, yes. I must confess to coming up here just before daybreak most mornings. It’s the one joy of jetlag – I get to explore while the rest of the country sleeps. Have you ever been up here at dawn?’
    ‘I don’t think I have.’ She shook her head.
    ‘There’s something about it. It’s like the planet is sharing a glorious secret with you: the still, the quiet, even the air is different, as if it’s yet to be stirred. The slow creep of sunlight into a world of hushed expectation. It’s like a blank page and who knows how it’s going to be written? I find that very exciting, the most exciting thing. I think if it were my last day on earth, I would be happy to go if I got to see the dawn.’
    ‘You really are a writer, aren’t you?’
    ‘Yup, really, really.’ He smiled at her; he had neat, even teeth.
    ‘I’m trying to imagine Americans coming all the way over here just to sit on this bench. I guess it’s hard to see the draw of a place I know so well when there are so many other places in the world to visit. I mean, I get why people in the UK would come here, it’s one of the best places in the country and not too far if you’re in the southwest, but to come all the way from America, when you could go anywhere...?’
    ‘Where would you suggest they went instead?’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know – the Seychelles, Bali, Norway.’
    ‘Interesting combination. Which do you prefer?’
    ‘Oh, I’ve never been to any of them. I’ve never been abroad. But I really want to. They’re on my list to visit one day. I’ve always loved the idea of travelling, looking at maps, planning trips, trekking through jungles or building an igloo. I spent a lot of my childhood imagining just that. It was a dream of mine to open a travel agent’s actually...’ Rosie shook her head, remembered who she was talking to and straightened. ‘Anyway, I better be getting off, and sorry for scalding you earlier.’
    ‘Don’t mention it. It’s been nice to chat, and skin heals, right?’ He laughed.
    ‘Oh, don’t! I feel bad enough as it is. I best be going.’
    ‘Sure.’ He raised his hand.
    She heard the catch of lament in his voice. ‘Are you here on your own?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes, recently divorced. Well, actually, not that recently. It’s been eighteen months and I’m only just coming up for air, learning how to breathe again.’ He