"Simon R. Green - Nightside 1 - Drinking Midnight Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

to buy half a dozen long-stemmed roses, for a frankly extortionate price, and hoped they'd serve
as a peace offering, at least to show that his heart was in the right place.
How much longer before she was going to answer the bell? It had taken him ages to work up the
courage to press the bloody thing, and now she was taking for ever to answer it. He debated
whether to ring the bell again, but decided against it. It might make him seem impatient, even
aggressive. Not a good first impression. There was always the chance she wasn't in. Who said Carys
had to be infallible? Toby was almost relieved at the thought that Gayle might be out. Then he
wouldn't have to go through with... this. But all he had to do was remember all those times he'd
sat opposite her on the train... and the thought of meeting her again brought a daft, happy smile
to his lips and a spring to his heart.
The door opened suddenly, and there she was, even more beautiful than ever. The more casual look


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suited her. And her mouth was every bit the perfect thing he'd thought it was. Unfortunately, her
mouth wasn't smiling at him. In fact, she was looking at him as though trying to figure out what
he might be selling. Toby tried to say hi, but his breath was still trapped in his throat, so he
thrust the roses at her, to speak for him. Gayle accepted the roses, carefully avoiding the
thorns.
'Oh, how nice,' she said. 'You killed some flowers for me.'
Her tone wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for. In fact, for a moment Toby was sure she was
going to throw the roses back in his face, but she just sighed and stepped back, indicating for
him to come in with a jerk of her head. Toby stepped quickly forward into the narrow hall, just in
case she might change her mind. Gayle pushed the front door shut, and then headed back into the
house, leaving Toby to follow her. He looked quickly about him as he hurried to keep up, trying to
get some sense of Gayle's character from how she chose to live. The walls were decorated with
pretty flowered wallpaper, the furnishings were basic but elegant and the carpeting had a cosy,
worn down look. An old-fashioned barometer hanging on the wall was stuck on changeable. Toby
tapped the glass with a knuckle, but the needle didn't even quiver. Gayle went into the kitchen,
and Toby hurried after her.
The kitchen was bright and airy, morning sunlight streaming through the open window. The walls
were painted in pale pastel colours, and there were lots of polished wood surfaces. The fittings
were elegant, some old enough to be classified as antiques. There were large posters on the walls,
mostly of dolphins, swimming and frolicking in the open sea, and one very large poster from
Greenpeace, with the word peace crossed out, and war written in above it in a large feminine hand.
There were thick coloured candles, hanging wind chimes, and pots and pans and crockery all neatly
arranged on shelves. Toby was impressed. His kitchen usually looked as though a grenade had gone
off in it.
Gayle ran some water in her gleaming, spotless sink and put the roses into it. Then she sat down
at the breakfast table and gestured briskly for Toby to sit opposite her. There was a lot of food
laid out, as though she'd known he was coming. It was good food, and smelled delicious, but Toby
was so nervous and on edge by now that he couldn't have eaten a forkful even if she'd put a gun to
his head. It didn't help that he still couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound trite
or forced or just plain simple-minded, and Gayle was still looking at him expectantly, waiting for
him to explain himself. For a long while they just sat and stared at each other.
She really was beautiful. Toby thought of telling her that, but decided she probably already knew.
She wasn't beautiful like a fashion model or a film star, with that artificial, high-gloss look,
all the little imperfections carefully removed by computer. Gayle looked... utterly female.