that he intended to hire her. Her instinct was to march straight back and tell him what he could do with the job, but then where would she go? Could she bear to work with him again even if she was certain he would keep his hands off her? She made her way through the crowds, which felt both oppressive and distant, to the car. Until she had the chance to discuss the situation with Ben, the best she could offer herself was a good strong cup of tea.
By the time she was halfway home she was savouring how the first sip would taste. She came off the ring road and steered the car into her street, and the taste grew sour in her mouth. There was a police car outside the house, and a uniformed officer was ringing the bell.
She parked awkwardly behind the police vehicle and ran up her path, her pulse accelerating. "What's the matter? Can I help you?"
The policeman turned, his face so carefully unemotional that she missed a breath. "Is this where Mr Benjamin Sterling lives?" he said.
TWELVE
That morning Ben awoke feeling that his life was about to change. The impression resembled a trace of some dream he couldn't quite recall. The children raced up past him to the bathroom while he descended as if he was counting the stairs. Ellen snatched his plate of breakfast out of the oven and pulled off her threadbare oven glove to blow on her fingers, and he thought that his sense of imminent change must relate to her interview. He gave her a long hug to make up for almost forgetting and to wish her luck, and kissed her fingers. "You be careful of yourself."
He was finishing breakfast when she took the children off to school. Oddly, once he was alone his impression felt stronger, though still as indefinable. As he brushed his teeth he found himself gazing into his eyes in the bathroom mirror, until he wondered what on earth he was expecting to see. He let out a sigh which blurred his reflection, and hurried downstairs to leave a note for Ellen in the car.
The day wasn't as cold as the grey sky seemed to promise. By the time he reached Milligans, having run for the bus and been hemmed in by commuters fat with winter coats, he felt as if his expectancy had been sweated out of him. Dominic was changing the window display, taking books to the door and blowing fake snow off the tops of the pages. "Good riddance. Next Christmas this will be one shop that turns away this kind of rubbish," he said, patches of his squashed face flaring almost as red as his wiry hair. "Books that nobody would buy for themselves, which these television personalities wouldn't put their name to if they weren't sure that everyone knows they don't really write this trash."
The tinsel flakes glittered in the slanting sunlight as they fell into the gutter, and Ben felt a memory gleam and darken, so swiftly that he hadn't time to glimpse it. "Don't look so
dubious," Dominic said, widening his eyes until his high forehead was a mass of ridges. "You're an evangelist compared with these soulless swine. Here, help me cast them out of the window."
When a clock above the roofs began to chime nine, Dominic turned the placard hanging on the door to announce that the shop was open. "We're on our own this week, old pal. Fiona's mumsy says she isn't well. If you want my opinion it's how they bring them up these days, all fashion and fast food and flabbi-ness. People would be queuing up for my father to open the shop when you and I were at school, but that was when schools taught you how to read and made you sweat."
"They'll be back once they've got over their Christmas spending."
Dominic began to prowl the shop in search of books he could grab off the shelves. "I came into the business because I thought books still helped educate people, but the last thing the public wants these days is to be made to feel it can improve itself. At least it sounds as if there's some point to this new book of yours, giving children a hint of the mess we've made of the climate."
Magic is the point,
By the time she was halfway home she was savouring how the first sip would taste. She came off the ring road and steered the car into her street, and the taste grew sour in her mouth. There was a police car outside the house, and a uniformed officer was ringing the bell.
She parked awkwardly behind the police vehicle and ran up her path, her pulse accelerating. "What's the matter? Can I help you?"
The policeman turned, his face so carefully unemotional that she missed a breath. "Is this where Mr Benjamin Sterling lives?" he said.
TWELVE
That morning Ben awoke feeling that his life was about to change. The impression resembled a trace of some dream he couldn't quite recall. The children raced up past him to the bathroom while he descended as if he was counting the stairs. Ellen snatched his plate of breakfast out of the oven and pulled off her threadbare oven glove to blow on her fingers, and he thought that his sense of imminent change must relate to her interview. He gave her a long hug to make up for almost forgetting and to wish her luck, and kissed her fingers. "You be careful of yourself."
He was finishing breakfast when she took the children off to school. Oddly, once he was alone his impression felt stronger, though still as indefinable. As he brushed his teeth he found himself gazing into his eyes in the bathroom mirror, until he wondered what on earth he was expecting to see. He let out a sigh which blurred his reflection, and hurried downstairs to leave a note for Ellen in the car.
The day wasn't as cold as the grey sky seemed to promise. By the time he reached Milligans, having run for the bus and been hemmed in by commuters fat with winter coats, he felt as if his expectancy had been sweated out of him. Dominic was changing the window display, taking books to the door and blowing fake snow off the tops of the pages. "Good riddance. Next Christmas this will be one shop that turns away this kind of rubbish," he said, patches of his squashed face flaring almost as red as his wiry hair. "Books that nobody would buy for themselves, which these television personalities wouldn't put their name to if they weren't sure that everyone knows they don't really write this trash."
The tinsel flakes glittered in the slanting sunlight as they fell into the gutter, and Ben felt a memory gleam and darken, so swiftly that he hadn't time to glimpse it. "Don't look so
dubious," Dominic said, widening his eyes until his high forehead was a mass of ridges. "You're an evangelist compared with these soulless swine. Here, help me cast them out of the window."
When a clock above the roofs began to chime nine, Dominic turned the placard hanging on the door to announce that the shop was open. "We're on our own this week, old pal. Fiona's mumsy says she isn't well. If you want my opinion it's how they bring them up these days, all fashion and fast food and flabbi-ness. People would be queuing up for my father to open the shop when you and I were at school, but that was when schools taught you how to read and made you sweat."
"They'll be back once they've got over their Christmas spending."
Dominic began to prowl the shop in search of books he could grab off the shelves. "I came into the business because I thought books still helped educate people, but the last thing the public wants these days is to be made to feel it can improve itself. At least it sounds as if there's some point to this new book of yours, giving children a hint of the mess we've made of the climate."
Magic is the point,
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