Quarter Past Two on a Wednesday Afternoon Read Online Free

beginning to know, it was hard to believe they could ever be intimate.
    ‘I’m only trying to have a conversation.’
    ‘Trying to put me in the wrong, more like. Let’s face it – whether I go to Ruth’s, or don’t go, you’ll take offence.’ He moved to the sink to rinse the tumbler under the tap; in his way, she made no effort to move aside. ‘At first you complained about me spending too much time with her. Now I’m being callous. Why not accept that it’s nothing to do with you, and let me get on with it?’
    ‘Of course it’s to do with me! And I didn’t complain, not once—’
    ‘Not in so many words. You didn’t need to,’ Martin said, in an I know I’m right tone that made her want to hit him. ‘Weren’t you going to eat? I’ve got papers to sort out for tomorrow.’
    ‘Fine! Don’t let me hold you up,’ Anna flung at him as he left the room. She stood undecided for a few moments before taking the over-browned stroganoff out of the oven. She no longer felt hungry, but obstinacy made her serve a portion for herself and sit at the table to eat. A hard lump in her throat made swallowing difficult. She could have wept if she’d wanted to: whether from sympathy for Ruth, self-pitying frustration with Martin or sheer petulance, she couldn’t tell.

Chapter Two
    Anna walked along High Holborn, wrapped up against the cold in winter coat, scarf and beret, the heels of her boots tapping authoritatively with each stride. Catching a glimpse of her reflection in a full-length window, she took a moment to recognize herself – a tall woman dressed in black, with a frowning expression. She looked in dismay at this forbidding double – was that who she was? This other person had taken her over. She couldn’t see her own self looking out from inside.
    She was meeting Bethan for lunch. Until Christmas, the Italian restaurant had set out tables and chairs under its awning on milder days, and patio heaters wastefully radiating warmth, but today there could be no question of anyone sitting outside. Bethan waved from their favourite table, in an alcove near the bar. She was dressed more casually than Anna, in a printed tunic over a long-sleeved T-shirt. Anna brightened, seeing her.
    ‘It’s all right, you’re not late. I got here early to read something through.’ Bethan had a pile of papers on the table in front of her; she gathered them into a folder, which she stashed in her saggy fabric bag.
    ‘I thought you did everything electronically these days?’ Anna said.
    ‘We do, but this author doesn’t. He isn’t even on line, can you imagine? We have to phone him, or send a letter. But he writes like a dream.’
    ‘Anyway, how are you?’ Anna settled herself next to Bethan on the cushioned bench. ‘You look great. Positively blooming.’
    Bethan always did have a look of robust health: slightly plump, rosy-cheeked in what she disparagingly called her milkmaid look. ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ she said, smug and self-conscious. ‘I’ve got over the sickness now, and I can’t tell you how good that feels.’
    ‘So you’re doing all the right things? Laying off alcohol and coffee, going to pregnancy yoga?’
    ‘Course!’
    Briskly the waiter took their order, geared to quick service for people on lunch breaks.
    ‘It’s a girl,’ Bethan said, spreading the fingers of one hand over her stomach. ‘I just know it’s a girl. Not that I mind, either way. But Cliff wants a girl. Actually, Anna, I want to ask you something. A huge favour.’
    ‘Oh, what?’
    ‘I – that is, we – we’d really like you to be godparent. Would you?’
    ‘Godparent? Me?’ Anna absorbed this. ‘Well, thanks, Beth. I’d love that. Only – what do you mean by the God bit? I don’t think I could make promises in a church without feeling like a hypocrite. Will it be a church christening?’
    ‘I did look at some websites, and you can have a naming ceremony, anywhere you like, and do it your own way. I know, I know.