An Absence of Natural Light Read Free

only spoken face-to-face to about five people since I moved here and four of them were crewing a furniture van.’
    â€˜I’ll put you on hold,’ she said, ‘while I get my violin.’
    â€˜I really, really like the flat. I feel like I’m due a celebration and for obvious reasons, I’d like to celebrate with you.’
    â€˜If I say no?’
    There was a pause. Then he said, ‘I’ve still got the number of the bloke who switched on the gas supply, I suppose. He’s bound to look more fetching outside of his overalls. Plus, he follows the club I played for.’
    â€˜You’re very funny.’
    â€˜Except I didn’t call just to amuse you.’
    â€˜I’m not a one-night stand, Tom.’
    He was silent on the end of the line. She thought he might have broken the connection and endured an unexpected surge of disappointment. Then he said, ‘Melody was the first woman I shared a bed with and I never entertained a single unfaithful thought throughout our marriage.’
    â€˜I believe that, Tom. But now you’re thinking as a single man.’
    He was silent again. Then he said, ‘Yes, Rebecca, I am.’
    â€˜I’m free on Saturday,’ she said.
    â€˜A drink?’
    â€˜We’ll start with a drink. I’m actually pretty confident I like you enough for dinner.’
    â€˜Three whole courses?’
    â€˜That might be pushing your luck.’
    They went to a pizza restaurant she knew at Gabriel’s Wharf on the South Bank. It wasn’t far from her own flat on the south side of Blackfriars Bridge. She chose it because it wasn’t The Ivy or the Chiltern Firehouse where he would have spent eight or ten times more. Other diners wouldn’t have approached him for selfies at either of those places because they were either way too cool or because they were as famous in their own way as Tom Harper was. But he was only approached a couple of times in the pizzeria and he was gracious about it. He was a gracious man, unless he just wanted his dinner guest to think he was.
    That was an uncharitable thought. Rebecca hadn’t always been so wary. She was wary now because of her past mistakes in thinking the best of men who hadn’t in the end turned out to be very good, or nice, or honourable. She felt justified in being cautious with someone as good-looking and successful as the man who’d invited her out. He was absurdly eligible. She thought him almost dangerously attractive. But she needed to be careful not to try to make him pay for her past misjudgments when he’d done nothing at all to hurt her. It was tricky. She thought she’d almost blown it over the phone.
    They had been served their puddings, were on the cheese and biscuits and coffee, technically their fourth course, when he mentioned the music.
    â€˜You know that joke I made about Lars Ulrich?’
    â€˜He isn’t in London, Tom. Honestly he’s not. He went from Denmark on a sports scholarship to America as a student. He was a tennis prodigy and basically he formed a band and just stayed. That was in Southern California. He lives in New York now.’
    Tom was staring at her. ‘Christ,’ he said, ‘what a mine of unexpected information you are.’
    â€˜It’s my guilty secret,’ she said. ‘I like Metallica.’ She pointed at her iPhone on the table between them. ‘Lars is drumming on about half the tunes on my playlist.’
    Tom looked at the phone. He said, ‘Anyway, you’re right, it isn’t him.’
    â€˜What isn’t?’
    â€˜The music I’ve been hearing at night. It’s very faint and it’s not every night and it sounds like it’s coming from downstairs.’
    â€˜Well it no doubt would be if you’re hearing it in bed.’
    â€˜No. I hear it sort of drifting up, usually when I’m in the sitting room. Like I said, it’s very faint, almost like an echo