Love at Second Sight Read Online Free Page A

They had been going out since Year Eleven when Dave arrived at our school. Effy and Mark on the other hand were a much more recent
couple; they’d only been dating a few months.
    ‘So what do you think is a real soulmate then?’ I asked them. ‘Someone you fancy like mad? Someone you’re drawn towards but you don’t know why? How do you
recognise The One when you meet him?’
    ‘I think it’s how he makes you feel. Like, it’s right but exciting at the same time,’ said Tash. ‘Like a vibe.’
    ‘Chemistry,’ I said.
    ‘And you can’t stop thinking about him,’ said Effy.
    ‘And when you’re apart you can’t wait to be with him,’ added Tash.
    Exactly how I wanted to feel with a boy. I just didn’t want him to be a boy from beyond the grave. That was just too spooky.
    After the fair, we went back to my place for a DVD and a sleepover. My house is nothing special. It’s a mock-Tudor semi-detached on a quiet street between Highgate and
Muswell Hill. Three bedrooms and bathroom upstairs and two rooms that have been knocked through to make one big living room and a kitchen downstairs. Faded white walls, Ikea fUmiture and rugs and a
few posters around the place. One is a seascape with dolphins, another is the Field of Poppies by Monet. Every year, Mum and I make a resolution to buy some new artwork but somehow it gets
forgotten as the routines of Mum’s job and my school term take over. That night, Mum was on the night shift at the hospital where she works on the admittance desk in A & E so we had the
place to ourselves.
    After pizza and a fourth viewing of Bridesmaids , we went up to my room where I have made some effort with the decorating in an attempt to make it my space, although it’s three years
or so since I did it. The walls are a dark red colour and I’ve got Pre-Raphaelite posters on the wall. I love that era of art. Ophelia floating on her back in the river by Rossetti. King
Cophetua and the Beggar Maid by Edward Burne-Jones. Echo and Narcissus, Hylas and the Nymphs, both by John Waterhouse.
    Effy looked at the pictures. ‘See, even your posters are from the past, Jo. All tragic ladies.’
    ‘Not all of them.’
    ‘They look pretty tragic to me,’ said Tash as she scrutinised the posters.
    ‘I like them because they’re romantic,’ I argued, ‘and the colours are so vivid. Plus you have to admit, all the boys in them are lush, just look at them high cheekbones,
great hair, not like the spotty oiks that hang around here.’
    Effy pointed at the painting of Hylas and the Nymphs. ‘This one looks at bit like Ben, the bass player from Finn’s band. Good cheekbones.’
    ‘Hah! I knew you loved him,’ I said.
    Effy picked up a pillow from my bed and threw it at me.
    ‘And this one looks like Finn,’ said Tash, pointing at the Burne-Jones poster. It was true, the king in the painting did have a look of Finn. Dark with black eyes that twinkled like
polished gemstones.
    I shrugged. ‘OK. So maybe I do have a type, except it’s not that Ben bloke. He looked well miserable. I swear he scowled at me earlier on the Heath.’
    ‘You’d make a good pair then,’ said Effy. She pulled a sad face.
    ‘I am so not miserable,’ I said.
    ‘Only teasing,’ said Effy. She looked back at my posters. ‘I wonder what Howard looked like.’
    I rolled my eyes and sighed. ‘I thought we’d forgotten about him.’
    Effy shook her head. ‘No way. In fact, I’ve been thinking about what Betty said to you and if you’re not going to do anything about it, I am. I’m going to look for
Henrietta.’
    I laughed. ‘Look for her? But I’m supposed to be Henrietta so you don’t have to look far.’
    ‘No, dozo. I mean the actual Henrietta. If she did exist, then there will be records of her, like when she was born, where she lived, those kinds of things.’
    ‘Don’t waste your time. Betty probably told a dozen single women at the Heath this afternoon that they were Henrietta Gleeson. I