Fire After Dark Read Free Page A

of bright flower beds, bordered by plants and trees in the full flush of summer. There are gravel paths, a tennis court, benches and a fountain as well as a plain stretch of grass where a few people are sitting, enjoying the last of the day’s heat. The building stretches around three sides of the garden so that most of the inhabitants get a garden view. But the U shape has a small narrow corridor that connects the garden sides of the U to the one that fronts the road, and the single column of flats on each side of it face directly into each other. There are six altogether and Celia’s is on the fifth floor, looking straight into its opposite number, closer than they would be if they were divided by a street.
    Was the flat cheaper because of this? I think idly, looking over at the window opposite. No wonder there are all these pale colours and the reflecting silver panels: the flat definitely has its light quota reduced being close to the others. But then, it’s all about location, right? It’s still Mayfair.
    The last of the sunshine has vanished from this side of the building and the room has sunk into a warm darkness. I go towards one of the lamps to turn it on, and my eye is caught by a glowing golden square through the window. It’s the flat opposite, where the lights are on and the interior brightly illuminated like the screen in a small cinema or the stage in the theatre. I can see across quite clearly, and I stop short, drawing in my breath. There is a man in the room that is exactly across from this one. That’s not so strange, maybe, but the fact that he is naked to the waist, wearing only a pair of dark trousers, grabs my attention. I realise I’m standing stock still as I take in the fact that he is talking on a telephone while he walks languidly about his sitting room, unwittingly displaying an impressive torso. Although I can’t make out his features all that clearly, I can see that he is good looking too, with thick black hair and a classically symmetrical face with strong dark brows. I can see that he has broad shoulders, muscled arms, a well-defined chest and abs, and that he is tanned as though just back from somewhere hot.
    I stare, feeling awkward. Does this man know I can see into his apartment like this while he walks about half naked? But I guess that as mine is in shadow, he has no way of knowing there’s anyone home to observe him. That makes me relax a little and just enjoy the sight. He’s so well built and so beautifully put together that he’s almost unreal. It’s like watching an actor on the television as he moves around in the glowing box opposite, a delicious vision that I can enjoy from a distance. I laugh suddenly. Celia really does have it all – this must be very life-enhancing, having a view like this.
    I watch for a while longer as the man across the way chats into his phone, and wanders about. Then he turns and disappears out of the room.
    Maybe he’s gone to put some clothes on , I think, and feel vaguely disappointed. Now he’s gone, I turn on the lamp and the room is flooded with soft apricot light. It looks beautiful all over again, the electric light bringing out new effects, dappling the silver lacquer panels and giving the jade ornaments a rosy hue. De Havilland comes padding in and jumps on to the sofa, looking up at me hopefully. I go over and sit down and he climbs onto my lap, purring loudly like a little engine as he circles a few times and then settles down. I stroke his soft fur, burying my fingers in it and finding comfort in his warmth.
    I realise I’m still picturing the man across the way. He was startlingly attractive, almost unreal. He moved with such unconscious grace and utter ease in himself. He was alone, but seemed anything but lonely. Perhaps he was talking to his girlfriend on the phone. Or perhaps it was someone else, and his girlfriend is waiting for him in the bedroom and he’s gone through there now to take off the rest of his clothes and