The Winter War by Philip Teir Read Free Book Online Page B

sit outside in the afternoon, and Eva often went to Weavers Fields, a nearby park, to sit on a bench and read. Or she would go to Brick Lane and stroll through the flea markets there. She enjoyed peoplewatching, and in London there were plenty of people to watch. Young pseudo-hippies sitting in cafés with backpacks, frowning as they read Hemingway; stylish couples in their eighties roaming through the art museums wearing matching tweed jackets; British children in school uniforms walking in perfectly straight lines through busy streets; bankers outside pubs drinking on Friday afternoons; the multicultural vibrancy of the city itself. Eva liked the anonymity of London and the feeling that no one demanded anything of her. She could wander aimlessly for hours, from one area to another.
    The university was on the northwest side of London, a fortyfive-minute trip on the Tube from her flat. Usually she didn’t have any lectures to attend until ten in the morning, so she would get up at eight, eat a quick sandwich and catch the Tube, provided that it was running. Sometimes she was forced to make her way by means of a combination of buses and Tube lines.
    Her flatmate, Natalia, was often in the kitchen when she got up. Natalia worked at the London Stock Exchange. She was a highly social and extroverted person, which had turned out to be very practical when Eva arrived in London not knowing a soul. She’d found the flat through an advert. Natalia had opened the door in a cloud of perfume, with her brown hair gathered in a perfect knot. She was a large woman, not fat but curvy, and over the past two months Eva had seen how men would turn around to look at Natalia whenever they went to a pub. Eva had inherited her mother’s blonde hair and her father’s scrawniness – she’d always thought that she looked very ordinary compared to her sister Helen, and she’d never really got used to the fact that people clearly regarded her as, if not beautiful, at least genetically interesting.
    That was more or less how Malik, her tutor, had expressed it after they’d slept together for the first time.
    â€˜You could be a fashion model,’ he’d told her. ‘You have that slightly cool and androgynous look about you that’s so “in” right now. Seriously. I mean, don’t take it the wrong way. I like it.’
    â€˜Don’t be ridiculous,’ Eva had told him, turning over in bed with the feeling that she was much too old for that type of flattery. She’d actually caused a stir on the streets of Paris when she’d gone there as a teenager with her mother. Men had wanted to take her picture, claiming to be the owners of model agencies. But that was probably something that happened to all Scandinavian girls. Her first boyfriend had broken up with her because he thought she was too bony.
    After Malik started spending the night at Eva’s flat, they often didn’t fall asleep until two in the morning. When she woke up, she would feel tired and not especially motivated to go to class. Sometimes he’d have his car with him, and they would drive to the university together. Last night Malik had stayed at home, saying that he needed to correct papers. Eva had teased him, offering to help.
    He got annoyed and told her dismissively, ‘It’s okay that we’re in a relationship. We’re both adults. But I take my work seriously, and you need to understand that it’s a point of honour for me. My work takes priority over sex.’
    She hadn’t said another word. She didn’t really know what sort of relationship she had with Malik. She couldn’t remember ever hearing him call her his lover, or anything else, for that matter.
    Eva had arrived in London in mid-August. It was still hot and sticky, and it seemed as though everyone had fled the city. Families with children were on holiday, the schools were empty, and the only people she met when she walked