Moonlight Read Free Page A

I'm sure you'll understand , I enjoy the solitude of the night. It sounds a little pretentious, I know, but I prefer to work that way.”
    "Okay , mister, but...” Winnie started.
    "Please, call me Thaddeus,” he reminded her with a smile.
    "Okay, Thaddeus,” she said, “but what you’ve said doesn’t explain a great deal. Why choose me? I’m a beggar, living on the streets of London, without anything to offer. To be honest, I can barely read and write...”
    Before she’d had a chance to finish talking herself out of the job offer, Thaddeus cut over her and said, “I've been in London over this last week visiting with my publishers, and each evening it has been my wish to walk along the river. Each night when I've reached the Embankment, there you have been, begging and being sneered at by strangers. Don't get me wrong; I'm not offering you pity or charity. If you do decide to come back to Cornwall with me, you'll be working hard for your keep. As I have already pointed out, I do have some strange habits, and perhaps a few requests from time to time that you might think a little odd, but let me assure you once again, I don’t want you for sex of any sort."
    Winnie looked across the table at him and asked bluntly, “Are you gay?”
    “No, I’m not gay,” Thaddeus said, with a smile. “As I have already explained, I’ve been married. I loved my wife very dearly and she will never be replaced."
    Winnie watched him. She had become good at people watching during the many hours she had spent begging outside railway stations, and she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes grew almost black as he spoke of his wife. It was more than just sadness she could see in them; it was despair. 
    "How much will you be paying me?" she asked, changing the subject.
    "You'll have your own private room. All food and any other extras will be paid for,” Thaddeus explained. “You won’t have to pay any bills. I’ll give you two hundred pounds per week, to spend in whatever way you see fit, as long as you are there when I need you, and are willing to succumb to any other little request I might make of you.” 
    Winnie swallowed hard. Two hundred a week. Lately, she'd been lucky if she'd scrounged two p ounds a week from begging. M oney aside, she was still wary of Thaddeus Blake. She only knew what he had chosen to tell her about himself.
    “Two hundred a week, huh?” she said, pulling the ends of her sleeves down over her dirty hands. “A big house in the country… I didn’t know anyone could make so much money from writing down a few fancy words that rhyme.”
    Thaddeus laughed and said, “I wish my poems made me money, they only make a fraction of my income - just pocket money, really. No, my wealth has been inherited. Like I have explained, I am the last and have no one to share it with – unless , that is, if you take me up on my offer.”
    Winnie looked back at him across the table and said nothing.
    "What have you got to lose, Winnie?” he asked.
    Again, she said nothing and just stared into his brown eyes.
    “I have been honest with you,” he shrugged, as if now the whole thing was not so important after all. “It’s up to you. No pressure. I have kept to my side of the bargain. I bought you dinner and we talked."
    Sensing that her opportunity of escaping London and the evils she had discovered there was may be slipping away, she whispered, "How can I be sure that I can trust you?"
    Thaddeus looked Winnie squarely in the face and said, "You won’t know unless you come back to Cornwall with me.” Then pushing his chair back from the table, he added, “The hour is getting late. I’ll be leaving tomorrow evening at seven from Paddington R ailway Station. If you wish to take up my offer, meet me on the concourse an d we shall leave together. I f you chose not to meet me, I shall go back to my home and forget this meeting, and you."
    They parted company outside the pizza parlour, Winnie making her way back to