Blowing It Read Online Free Page A

it wasn’t a human, or even a pet. Someone else, someone better equipped, with time and money and energy, would be able to take it on, give it the love and attention it deserved. She wondered if Mac was feeling the same way. Something told her he was.
    Lottie scooped up the fragments of Mac’s bus pass application from the table and threw them into the bin. Her mother had been keen on bus trips late in her life. The highlight of each fortnight had been her Friday outings to historic houses, gardens, craft fairs, anywhere that could accommodate a mini-bus packed with old ladies in need of a loo, a sit-down, tea and a scone. When she’d died, Lottie had been moved to tears by the collection of small souvenirs her mother had collected on these trips. All the pottery thimbles, scenic coasters, printed tea towels and commemorative mugs tucked away unused in a cupboard were testament to a woman who liked to get out and about a lot and was far too well mannered to visit anywhere without making a grateful contribution to the economy of the venue.
    ‘Your rooster has raced up from the henhouse to crap on your car roof again.’ Mac reappeared in the kitchen doorway and indicated the sight of the fat Light Sussex cockerel strutting his stuff on top of Lottie’s Audi. ‘So do you fancy going there then?’ he added, looking oddly shy as if he was still a young boy asking her for a date. He’d looked a lot like that the first time she’d met him, when at sixteen she’d been refused entry (on grounds of looking under eighteen) to The Roundhouse to see Spooky Tooth and he’d managed to get her in, by way of the guest list.
    ‘Do I fancy going where?’ Lottie asked, wondering why you couldn’t reason with poultry.
    ‘India. On a bus. Or a plane, whatever. Like we were just talking about. It wasn’t
just
talk, was it?’
    Telepathy like that was what you got, Lottie thought, when you’d lived with someone so long. She held her breath, waiting to see if he really was on the same thought rails as her.
    ‘It’s only …’ he continued, ‘I don’t want to be harvesting boring bloody leaves for the rest of my days. Perhaps we need to flog this massive great place and go, while we can still get around without needing new hips and knees.
And
I’ve been reading this great book about world events not to be missed. There’s a camel fair, at Pushkar, up in Rajasthan, sometime in November. It’s a sort of mixture of Glastonbury and the Appleton horse fair but with camels. Very colourful, very noisy. Smelly too, probably.’
    Lottie pushed the door of the dishwasher shut with her foot and heard something fall off inside the machine. It was a loud clunk and sounded terminal. When,
if
, the time came for clearing out to be done, and she felt a choking rush of both terror and excitement at the thought, this gadget would be first into the skip.
    ‘Sounds great! And in theory, I’m right with you. But there’d be a huge amount to think about, wouldn’t there? I don’t want to put any kind of a downer on things, but what about Sorrel? This has always been her home. We’ll have to sit her down and talk to her about it properly, give her some idea where we might be thinking of living when we get back. Wherever it is, unless we stay in the village she’ll be leaving all her friends.’
    ‘But she’ll be leaving them anyway – and they’ll be leaving her when they all go off to university. She’s only got a few more weeks in school, and she’ll keep the friends who really matter. They do far more getting together on the internet than they do in real life. She’ll be OK, one darkened room with a computer in it is much the same as another. For one thing she can always go and stay with Clover. She’s got plenty of room over in Richmond.’
    Lottie looked at Mac warily. He seemed more determined with every sentence. He was persuading her now, fielding each and every possible problem with growing enthusiasm. She’d seen him like