Blowing It by Kate Aaron

Author:Kate Aaron [Aaron, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Croft House
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

We left Eric’s house in the early evening. I sank happily into the leather passenger seat and waved to Elaine and Lorna, who were standing in the doorway to see us off, as Magnus backed out the drive. As he turned the car out of the cul-de-sac and onto the road towards home, I released a contented sigh, closed my eyes, and rested my hands across my full stomach.

“Did you have a good time?” Magnus asked as the radio played the soft strains of something classical.

“I really did.” I looked at him and smiled when he glanced in my direction. “My family aren’t that close, so it was different. Nice.”

“You don’t see your parents?”

He’d phrased the question in an offhand tone, but I could tell he was curious. We’d never spoken about my mum and dad.

“I do,” I said, “but not often. Certainly not as often as Mum would like.”

“There a reason for that?”

I thought I recognised the melody currently playing, and after confirming it was “Morning” from Peer Gynt, Magnus pressed the question, rebuking me for changing the subject.

I grinned sheepishly. “It’s my fault,” I admitted. “My parents are great—they really are—they’ve always been supportive, I just… I don’t know. I moved to London, and I was young and the lights were bright, and we seemed to lose touch. I should call them more often.”

Magnus nodded. “It happens. You had your own life to lead.”

“True. I still feel guilty about it, though.”

“It’s never too late,” he pointed out, his tone gentle and without judgment.

“I know. And it’s not like they live far.”

“Where are you from?” he asked. “There’s something in your accent I can’t quite place and it’s been bugging me for weeks.”

I laughed. “You should have looked on Wikipedia. It’s my West Country burr. I did everything to get rid of it when I moved to London, but it still slips out occasionally.”

Magnus caught my eye and grinned. “You’re a Cornish lad?”

“Not quite. Bristol.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s a nice city.”

“It is,” I conceded. “Although I didn’t always think so. Growing up, it seemed too provincial, too far from anywhere. It’s all hills and sheep for miles around in any direction.”

“Or sea,” he added.

“Or sea,” I agreed. “We used to call it the Avon Bore.” I shook my head. “It wasn’t a very funny joke.”

Nonetheless, Magnus chuckled politely.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d listen to this stuff,” I said, indicating the radio, which was now playing another classical track I knew the name of, Delibes’s “Flower Duet” from Lakmé. The sopranos’ melodies rose and fell in delicate harmony, climbing ever-higher as they warbled their way through the lyrics.

“My tastes are pretty eclectic,” Magnus said. “Have a look.” He indicated the glove box in front of me, which I opened to reveal a dozen or so CDs.

Taking them out, I pored through them, surprised to see how similar our tastes were. There were a couple of classical compilations, mostly songs familiar from TV themes or adverts, as indeed the Delibes was.

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