Paper Chains by Nicola Moriarty Read Free Book Online Page A

very much like, ‘The last straw, honestly, last straw.’
    India scrambled from her chair to help pick up the glass. ‘Now,’ she asked the waiter, ‘when he says “last straw”, does he mean you just dropped the last straw with that glass of lemonade and he’s upset because now you’ve run out of straws? Or does he mean it in a metaphorical kind of way? As in you’re about to get fired? Cause if it’s the latter, I’ll go in and sort it out. Do you know how much guilt I’ll be weighed under if I find out I’ve got someone fired? I’ll be staggering around under it all day.’
    The waiter laughed. ‘He means the latter, but don’t worry, he won’t actually fire me – today’s my last day anyway, I’m leaving London tomorrow.’
    ‘Really? Where are you going?’ India asked conversationally as she collected the last pieces of glass and piled them helpfully onto his tray.
    ‘Greek Islands. Been saving up for the past six months and now I’m going to take a proper holiday – as opposed to a working one.’
    Hannah had been sitting awkwardly in her chair as the exchange had taken place between India and the waiter, unsure as to whether she should offer to help or just stay out of the way, but now she frowned as she watched an inscrutable expression cross India’s face. There was a pause before India responded, and when she spoke her voice didn’t have the normal bright and bubbly tone of confidence that spelled India. ‘The Greek Islands? Great. That’s great,’ she said, her voice subdued. ‘You’ll have a blast there.’
    The waiter smiled appreciatively and then headed inside with the tray of broken glass. Hannah’s brow creased, as she tried to follow what had just happened. She hesitated, and then asked casually, ‘You’ve been to the Greek Islands?’
    Hannah watched as India allowed a ghost of a smile to pass across her lips before she replied. ‘Yeah, I spent a few weeks there. Beautiful,’ she said quietly.
    ‘Are you okay?’ Hannah asked. It was clear that something was up.
    India shrugged. ‘I guess. I mean yep, sure. I haven’t told you about Simon though, have I?’
    ‘Nope.’
    ‘I met him a month or two back, travelling through the Greek Islands. He works on a boat that takes tourists between the islands. It was one of the rare occasions when I decided to stay in the one place for a little while. Usually I move on after a few days. But when I met Simon – Aussie guy, from Sydney actually – I kind of got stuck for a little while. Stayed much longer than I intended. Didn’t help that he was gorgeous: dark, spiky hair, great shoulders, cheeky green eyes – you know, all the nice trimmings. About three weeks I spent with him. Then I came to my senses, remembered why I’m doing this. I left him in the middle of the night. Put a note on the pillow, kissed him on the lips as he slept, never looked back. In hindsight, I suppose it was just a tad melodramatic, wasn’t it? Like I was a CIA agent on a secret mission or something. But anyway, I guess I missed him. So I’ve been writing to him ever since. But he has no idea, and none of my letters have ever made it to him. Oh, I don’t post them,’ she added when Hannah gave her a confused look. ‘I just give them to other travellers, usually backpackers like me. Doesn’t matter where they’re headed; if it’s not towards Greece, then I ask them to pass them on to someone who is. On the front of the envelope, I just write “Simon” and the name of his boat – “The Aella”. It’s more fun like this. That way, if he ever gets one of my letters, then it’s fate, right? Otherwise, it’s not meant to be. I suppose most of them might have ended up pasted into the inside cover of some backpacker’s journal as a sweet memento of their travels. It’s surprising how many people that I give them to think it’s the most romantic thing they’ve ever heard of – they’re always comparing it to a message in a bottle