The Trouble with Henry and Zoe by Andy Jones Read Free Book Online

truth beneath all the layers of thought and doubt
and indecision. Henry loved April, right up until he didn’t. And then back the other way, changing his mind like a kid in a comic shop. Changing his heart. April never asked how he had known
what size ring to buy, so Henry never told her.
    He has finished his tea and the clock tells him it is now 3.31 a.m. Tomorrow morning he will wake up next to his wife in the four-poster bed on the other side of the castle. Their suitcases are
packed, passports and sun cream all in the appropriate compartments of their luggage. The newlyweds will take a ten-minute taxi ride to the train station, a train to Manchester airport, an internal
flight to Heathrow then a long wait before a two-hour flight to Ibiza. They will arrive at their hotel close to midnight, fatigued and clammy with travel. There is an earlier flight, arriving at a
more civilized time, but to make all the connections they would have to catch the 5.28 a.m. from the local station – the first train of the day. It is Saturday morning now and Henry wonders whether
the trains run to the same timetable today as they will tomorrow.
    He estimates the station is six miles from the castle, a cold walk along dark twisting lanes. On foot it would take ninety minutes, maybe as long as two hours. He looks at the clock as it clicks
over to 3.33.

Zoe
Fingers To Shred
    Of course he had a girlfriend.
    Zoe all but laughed when he told her.
    Alex was already in the pub when Zoe arrived, drinking what she guessed was a gin and tonic. He spotted her walking towards him and immediately stood up, waving a short salute across the room.
She was surprised to see DJ Lexx wearing a suit, but before she had a chance to make a glib comment about it (scrolling through her mind:
Been to court? Been to a wedding? Blimey, is this what
all DJs wear on their days off
?), Alex had stepped away from the table, gesturing for Zoe to sit while he asked what she was drinking.
    The pub Alex had suggested turned out to be a charmless cave tucked away in a knot of narrow cobbled streets with names – Ludgate, Newgate – that reminded Zoe of Dickens and his city
of urchins, riots and Victorian gaols. They were a stone’s throw from St Paul’s Cathedral, and this grotty boozer seemed a peculiar choice in an area replete with far more salubrious
wine and cocktail bars. Perhaps Alex thought it was cosy, or characterful or intimate.
    When he returned to the table with Zoe’s drink, Alex was visibly awkward. If they’d been dating already she would have sworn he was about to dump her. She’d been planning what
type of kiss to greet him with (cheek or lips; peck or subtly lingering, delicately foreshadowing), but the moment had gone and Alex’s discomfort was contagious.
    ‘Cheers,’ she said, raising her glass, air-clinking and taking a sip of generic red wine. ‘So, is this what all DJs wear on their days off?’
    ‘Sorry, what?’
    Zoe thumbed invisible lapels. ‘The suit.’
    ‘Ah, oh, right, yeah. Actually, I . . . I work in the City. Well, kind of, oil and gas. It’s a bit . . .’ Alex made an apologetic shrug and blew air through his lips.
‘Well, it’s oil and gas.’
    Zoe nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. ‘Cool. I mean . . . great! That’s . . . people always need oil and gas. Do they?’
    ‘Well, let’s hope so, otherwise I’m out of a job.’
    ‘You could always DJ?’
    Alex laughed. ‘That would be nice.’
    ‘So . . . at our party thing, what was that?’
    ‘Favour for a friend. Well, I got paid, but . . . not much.’
    ‘And free champagne.’
    Alex smiled. ‘Yes, and free champagne. But not enough to give up the day job, unfortunately.’ He seemed to hesitate a moment before saying: ‘I did play at a fairly big club in
Thailand for a while.’
    ‘Thailand?’
    After graduating, Alex had secured a job at the firm where he still works today. He had managed to defer his start date for twelve months,