Peacock Emporium by Jojo Moyes Read Free Book Online Page B

expectations. But she had stood in the elevator of the London restaurant where they had just eaten and, heedless of the people queuing behind them, she had wedged her childlike feet in the lift doors and, laughing breathlessly – as if, when the words had bubbled unexpectedly out of his trembling mouth, he had suggested something extraordinarily amusing – had said yes. Why not? What fun. They had kissed then, joyfully, greedily, as the lift doors trundled back and forth in a frenzy of thwarted purpose, and the queue of people behind them had grown, muttered crossly and eventually taken the stairs. And he had realised that his life was no longer on some predestined course, but had been diverted by fantastic possibility.
    ‘You need to knock some sense into her,’ said Colonel Forster.
    Douglas’s head jolted backwards.
    ‘Anthony.’ Justine Forster pursed her lips. She opened her compact and examined her eye makeup. ‘She . . . It’s just that she can be a bit of a handful.’
    ‘I like her like that.’ Douglas’s tone was one of contented belligerence.
    She had dragged him to dance halls run by black people in some of the less savoury parts of London, chiding him if he expressed niggling anxieties, exhorting him instead to dance with her, to join her in drinking, laughing, living. And because she seemed perfectly at ease in those places, his worst fears rarely materialised, and he was forced to confront his own conceptions of poor people, or black people or, at any rate, people unlike himself. Along with his fears, he had made himself shed a few inhibitions, smoked and drunk dark rum, and when they were alone allowed himself to approach Athene sexually in a way that he had been brought up to think of as not just daring but probably illegal.
    Because she didn’t mind. She didn’t care about shopping, or fashion, or furnishings, or the things that had bored him about so many of the girls he knew. If anything she was careless with her possessions – at the end of a dance she would remove her shoes, complaining that they were a bore, then fail to bring them home. Afterwards, when her lack of footwear was pointed out, she showed none of the tearful sense of loss that another girl might have displayed or, indeed, any anxiety about how she was going to get home, just shrugged her shoulders and laughed. There would always be another pair of shoes, that laugh said. Worrying about things was such a bore.
    ‘Yes. Well, dear, don’t say we didn’t warn you.’ Justine Forster was eyeing a piece of wedding cake as if it might spring up and bite her.
    ‘Very silly girl,’ said Colonel Forster, lighting his pipe.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Our daughter. No point beating around the bush. She’s jolly lucky to have married at all.’
    ‘Anthony.’ Mrs Forster glanced at Douglas fearfully, as if afraid her husband’s damning commentary might prompt her new son-in-law suddenly to announce a change of heart.
    ‘Oh, come on, Justine. She’s surrounded by feckless young people, and it’s made her feckless. Ungrateful and feckless and silly.’
    ‘I don’t think she’s feckless.’ Douglas, who would have been appalled to think his own parents might discuss him in this way, felt the need to defend his bride. ‘I think she’s brave, and original, and beautiful.’
    Athene’s father regarded him as if he’d just admitted to being a pinko. ‘Yes. Well, you don’t want to go saying all that to her. Don’t know where it might lead. Just see if you can settle her down a bit. Otherwise she’ll end up as no use to anyone.’
    ‘He doesn’t mean it, Douglas, dear. He just means that we – we’ve probably been a little lax with her at times.’
    ‘Lax with who?’ Athene appeared at Douglas’s shoulder. He smelt Joy and cigarette smoke, and his innards clenched. Her father grunted and turned away. ‘Are you talking about me?’
    ‘We were just saying that we’re very glad you’re settling down.’ Justine Forster’s