The Inn at the Edge of the World Read Online Free

sugary trails were the probable reason for this. ‘And . . .’ she went on, ‘he used to scratch his balls all the time.’ This was another of the reasons she’d poured the coffee over him. As well as she knew him it would have somehow seemed indelicate to remonstrate openly with him about this habit.
    ‘I can’t stand that,’ agreed her agent. ‘It’s almost worse than nose-picking.’
    ‘He did that too,’ said Jessica.
    ‘You’re well rid of him,’ said her agent. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Jessica. ‘I was just passing.’ Since she was out of her house her fear had vanished. She didn’t mind waiting for the new year, and now she couldn’t see why she should look for work when she didn’t need the money. She thought she might possibly be suffering from a previously undiagnosed claustrophobia and deter mined that if it should overwhelm her again she would consult a psychiatrist. ‘I’m going away for Christmas,’ she said, ‘so if I don’t see you before I go I’ll ring as soon as I get back.’
    She said no more about going away and her agent asked no questions: she knew the movements of her clients not by interrogating them but by listening in on the grapevine. In the course of time she would know precisely how Jessica had spent Christmas. She was not particularly curious but she knew she’d find out.
    As she left Jessica looked round for her copy of
Private Eye
, but it had gone. She reflected as she went off in search of another taxi that it was strange to be able to discuss with people the most intimate shortcomings of your paramour while feeling the need to conceal from them the fact that you were going to spend Christmas in a small hotel at the edge of the world.
     
    When Jon strolled into his usual pub the usual customers at the bar sent up the usual groan. Jon, as usual, affected to take this as friendly badinage. He was of the opinion that his beauty and his personality were such that they could arouse only jealousy in others, but was sufficiently magnanimous to excuse them.
    ‘Hi Jon,’ said one, ‘how are Kenny and Emma?’
    Jon ignored this. ‘Double brandy,’ he said to the barman. ‘I’m celebrating,’ he said to no one in particular. He was pleased, not that Jessica had recognized him, for he would have expected no less, but because fortune had been so good as to throw them together again.
    ‘Celebrating?’ asked somebody else, sneering slightly while winking at his neighbour.
    ‘Got a job,’ said Jon. He didn’t explain that this would entail hanging upside down outside a window while a deeper voice than his own extolled the virtues of a substance which, judiciously applied, would render the said window unearthly with brilliance. ‘And I’m spending Christmas with Jessica,’ he added. Until he spoke he had had no doubt that Jessica would be staying at the destination she had so determinedly ringed in black. Why else should Providence have left her copy of
Private Eye
for him to pick up? It was all meant, he knew. His horoscope had indicated some such happening and advised him to seize an opportunity.
    Hearing himself speak he felt a moment’s unease. Could there be any other reason why she had marked the advertisement? No, he decided, but just in case he added that the arrangements had to be finalized, taking no notice of the jeers that followed this amendment.
    He left when he had drunk his brandy, having no fondness for the company of his fellows: they had heard what he had to say and so had served their purpose.
     
    Anita surveyed her department with an unaccustomed sense of dissatisfaction. It had extended, as was customary in the Christmas period, into the gardening section, which had been moved downstairs until such time as the hyacinths began to spring from their bulbs and the holly and tinsel were only a dusty memory. The encroachment had started in August which even Anita, dedicated as she was to the sale of stationery,