Broken Places Read Online Free

had barely listened to a single word he’d said, nor had the simple courtesy even to offer him the bread or salt. Even her looks were fast losing their appeal. However blonde her hair or sensational her breasts, how could he be soulmate to someone who thought libraries were a source of plague and pestilence? The whole concept of a soulmate was desperately important to him – had been since his boyhood, when the notion, although impossible in fact, had still been a cherished dream and a future aspiration. Looks were less important than believing in some cause, sharing the same ideals, viewing the world through roughly the same eyes. But this woman had no ideals – only a serious eating disorder, combined with a drinking problem. Even if she offered to pay the whole exorbitant bill – even if she was a millionaire – she was still, at base, a slob and, frankly, his overwhelming instinct was to bolt out of the restaurant and keep running, running, running, until he’d put fifty miles between them.
    In fact, he had come to a decision: he would rather spend his days alone – for ever, till he died – than settle for a female as gross and gluttonous as this.

chapter two
    ‘Who the hell do you think you are , mate? I booked this sodding computer for ten o’clock and now you’re saying it’s not free.’
    Eric deliberately adopted a calm and pleasant tone. The guy was leaning across the counter, one fist clenched aggressively. If he didn’t defuse the situation , and defuse it pretty fast, that fist might well make contact with his face. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but it’s now ten-fifteen and we only hold the computers for ten minutes.’
    ‘Listen, chum, I booked the bloody thing for half an hour, so it’s mine by rights till half-past ten.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Eric repeated, in the same conciliatory manner. ‘If you’re late, we have to release the slot to someone else. It’s library policy. But, look, why don’t I make you another booking, for later on today?’
    ‘Because I don’t happen to have all fucking day to swan around doing damn-all. I told you – I want it now.’
    ‘I’m afraid that isn’t possible. In fact, the earliest slot I can give you, sir, is – let’s see – half-past three.’
    The fist veered towards his jaw. 999, he thought, glancing frantically around for Trevor, who at six-foot-two and built like a bull, might disarm the man at a stroke. But before he could call for help, the man – miraculously – backed off, pushing his way past the queue of people behind him with a torrent of abuse.
    Eric realized he was sweating – and with reason. On two occasions he had been hit, once seriously enough to land him in A & E. Well, he thought, composing himself, at least he didn’t work in Iraq. There, the National Library was subject to constant bomb-blasts, and staff- kidnappings were the order of the day. He suddenly saw himself cowering in a stinking cell, bound and gagged and blindfolded – and about to die of fear.
    ‘I’m looking for this book….’
    The next person in the queue was, he realized with relief, not a hulking prison-guard, come to march him to the torture-chamber, but an elderly woman too frail to hurt a flea.
    ‘Yes?’ he said, encouragingly. ‘Could you give me the name of it?’
    She shook her head. ‘That’s the trouble. I can’t remember names.’
    ‘Well, do you know who wrote it?’
    ‘I think it began with a …’ Her voice tailed off and her eyes took on a glazed look.
    He waited patiently. Who knew what she was suffering – loneliness, confusion, dementia, bereavement?
    ‘It was red,’ she said, in a sudden rush of words. ‘A big red book, with a yellow bird on the cover.’
    He ran through his mental repertoire. Although familiar with most of the stock, he couldn’t recall such a volume. ‘Was it fiction or non-fiction?’
    It was obvious from her baffled frown that she didn’t know the difference .
    ‘Well,’ he tried to explain, ‘more