A Shorter History of Tractors in Ukrainian with Handcuffs by Marina Lewycka

Author:Marina Lewycka [Lewycka, Marina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780241966327
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2012-12-13T05:00:00+00:00

8

Next morning, over a full English breakfast, Grayson told her that one of the old man’s daughters had been in touch with him (Laura gathered from the tone of his voice that they had in fact been more in touch than he was letting on), because Valentina’s son had phoned her out of the blue to ask what had happened to the house in Duckwith. The sister was worried that he might be about to stake an ownership claim, since the house was still unsold.

‘Yes,’ said Laura, ‘I checked. It’s still empty. Apparently it’s said to be haunted.’

‘Ah,’ he said, squeezing her hand over the dish of morning-gathered mushrooms. ‘How the past comes back to haunt us. Or maybe it never really leaves us.’

‘Mm,’ she said, trying but failing to think of something profound to say, and wondering whether her daughters had remembered to pack their gym kits.

She and Grayson parted affectionately in the car park of the hotel, with sweet lingering kisses and promises that they would meet again. But in her heart, she knew they never would.

She went straight to the office and called Graham, who was already at work.

‘I’m so sorry. Had too much to drink. Couldn’t trust myself to drive. Legless, actually. Don’t know what got into me. Are the girls alright? Left phone at the office.’

That last bit was the only actual lie.

His voice was cool and distant. ‘Not a convenient time to talk. In a meeting. Catch up tonight – if you’re planning to come home, that is.’

Oh dear.

She had a penitential salad for lunch, and gazed out of the window at the patisserie over the road, longing for a crusty tart with raspberry mousse and whipped cream topped with freshly grated chocolate to sweeten her afternoon tea break. It was drizzling again, people were scurrying along the glistening pavement with hoods up and umbrellas out. So she didn’t immediately recognize the couple crossing the road. The man had a cagoule on with the hood up covering his hair, but his backpack was visible as a bulge between the shoulders. The woman was carrying an umbrella, spinning it gaily as she skipped along, avoiding the puddles. They were talking animatedly and walking towards the bus stop again.

She grabbed her raincoat and keys, and raced down the stairs. Their bus was already pulling away, but the timetable at the bus stop told her it would be in Duckwith in about an hour. She went straight to the car park, and picked up her car. Although the rain had caused the traffic to build up, slowing her progress, she overtook the bus at the next stop. As she turned into Thorpe Road, she glanced in her mirror. There, a couple of cars behind, was the low-slung silver sports car. Furiously, she accelerated through an amber light, turned off the main road into a side street, and pulled over. A few moments later, she saw the sports car pass by on the main road.

She rejoined the traffic

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