The Garden of Magic Read Online Free

jacket. ‘I’m done in.’
    ‘Are you sure?’ Nicola was gazing up at Jon with shiny eyes. ‘It’s not late. I’m sure there’s plenty of stuff we could do –’
    Bex stopped her eyes from rolling with an act of will. Nicola was her friend. She shouldn’t be mean.
    Jon picked up his guitar case. ‘I’m sure.’
    Outside the spring weather was holding and the night was mild. The town was quiet, and Bex could hear the river, and a lonely nightingale calling, its chirrups and peeps echoing off the stone of the town bridge. It was easy to see the place as timeless, the ancient cottages with their tiny windows and lopsided walls, the cobbled streets and the countless feet that had polished them. A car appeared on the road and whooshed past and the spell was broken.
    ‘Why don’t we go to mine for a bit?’ Jon said, shifting his grip on his case. ‘If you’re not too tired?’
    ‘Sure,’ Bex said, ignoring the leaping in her heart. That was part of the pain and pleasure of being Jon’s friend. He wanted to spend time with her. She knew he liked her. More than that, he cared for her, looked out for her. If only that were enough. It hadn’t been enough when they’d met last year and it wasn’t enough now, but she wasn’t sensible enough to stay away from him. No matter how much it hurt, she couldn’t give it up. Give him up.
    ‘I’ll carry that.’ Bex went to take the small amp and their fingers brushed. Her pulse kicked up from the contact and she felt her cheeks flush. Something had to change or she was going to drop down of a heart attack. This much stuttering and racing and jumping couldn’t be healthy. Bex couldn’t believe Jon hadn’t noticed yet, hadn’t seen her heart leaping out of her chest like in a cartoon.
    Jon lived in a shared house on Priory Lane. It had a sagging roof and a failed damp course along the back wall, but it was timber-beamed and pretty. On the outside, at least. Inside, the charm had been somewhat overlaid with music equipment courtesy of Jon, rugby kit courtesy of his housemate, Ben, and bicycles courtesy of both of them. Bex squeezed past the clutter in the narrow hall and into the tiny living room. There was a stone hearth with a wood burner, the effect slightly ruined by a clothes horse draped in shorts and t-shirts and jogging bottoms, steaming gently.
    They slipped into their well-oiled routine. Bex closed the curtains and fetched the DVD while Jon made tea; then they sat on the sagging sofa to laugh through
Life of Brian
for what was probably the fiftieth time.
    It was late and, despite the nearness of Jon and the funniness of the film, Bex felt her eyelids get heavy. She told herself that she wasn’t going to fall asleep in Jon’s house; that she was going to get up and go home like a sensible adult. It was insane to keep staying over on Jon’s sofa, no matter how welcome he made her feel. She was being pathetic and she ought to get up and walk home. One more minute and that was exactly what she was going to do.
    Bex woke up lying on the sofa, alone. The television was switched off and there was a thick yellow blanket slung across her body. She pulled it over her shoulders and went back to sleep.
    In the morning, Bex woke early. A shaft of light pierced a gap in the curtains, shining onto the
Life of Brian
DVD case on the floor like a message from God. The house was completely quiet and her neck felt stiff and sore from the sofa cushions. She tiptoed past Jon’s bedroom and opened and closed the front door as quietly as she could.
    Outside, the sun was just up and the air was cool. It was pleasantly refreshing and Bex felt all the promise of a new day. There were advantages to waking up with a crick in her neck from Jon’s sofa; she was up early enough to swing home and wash her face and change her clothes before work.
    On the way to the Farriers’ she gave herself the well-worn talk; this had to stop. She had to move on. She had to see less of Jon. She had to