"Simon R. Green - Nightside 1 - Drinking Midnight Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Simon R)

Toby looked up to see the last of the summer sunshine swept away by dark, lowering clouds. At once
the rain fell heavily, as though someone up above had just pulled out a plug, and the commuters
ran for waiting cars and buses with shocked cries of surprise.
Toby tucked himself away under a convenient railway arch, and struggled with his stubbornly
awkward umbrella. No waiting wife or family for him. The umbrella was a collapsible job, just
right for his coat pocket; but every now and again it would refuse to open so he wouldn't take it
for granted. He could have made a dash for one of the waiting local buses, but unfortunately he
was supposed to be on a diet. Eat less and exercise more - he didn't know which one he detested
most. Either way, his waistline was still expanding, so he had no choice but to walk home,
regardless of the weather. If he started allowing himself to make excuses, he'd never get any
exercise. He knew himself too well.
Cars were already jostling for position as they fought their way out of the car park, as though it
mattered one jot whether they got home in twenty minutes rather than fifteen. The two local buses
were revving their engines impatiently as the last few commuters climbed aboard, filling the wet
air with heavy exhaust fumes. It was Friday, the beginning of the weekend, and everyone was eager
to start celebrating finishing the working week. They'd all survived another run of nine-to-fives,
and now they couldn't wait to forget it all in pubs and at parties, dinners and clubs, and with
special treats they'd been promising themselves. Or perhaps they just wanted to get home, bury
themselves in the bosom of their family and batten down the hatches for two precious days of small
domestic things. Toby had no plans. He was tired of pubs, of the same conversations with the same
people, and no one invited men like Toby to dinner parties. There were no clubs or parties on the
horizon, and no one at home to care whether he was in or not. Toby often felt that life was
passing him by, while he reached out with desperate fingers for someone to throw him a lifeline.
Soon enough all the cars and buses were gone, and a blessed peace fell over the car park as a
small scatter of pedestrians trudged off homewards through the increasingly heavy downpour. There
was an unseasonal chill now to the early-evening air, and overhead the sky was almost pitch-black.
Toby fought his umbrella and the umbrella fought back, just to spite him. But Toby was dogged and
determined and quite prepared to beat the umbrella against the nearest wall until it realised he
was serious, and finally it gave in and sprang open with bad grace. Toby relaxed a little as the
rain drummed loudly on the stretched black cloth over his head. The walk home was tedious enough
without having to do it soaking wet. And it was only then that he noticed he wasn't alone.
The woman with the most perfect mouth in the world was standing not ten feet away from him,
holding her folded paper above her head, and glaring about her as though the rain was a personal
affront. Her light blue suit was no match for a downpour, for all its expensive elegance, and it
was clear she'd be soaked through before she could even get out of the car park. Toby could hardly
believe his luck. It was raining, she was stranded, and he... he had an umbrella! All he had to do
was walk over to her, casually offer to share his umbrella, and they could just walk off together.
It would be perfectly natural for them to get talking, and maybe agree to meet later, so she
could... thank him properly. He might even finally find out her name. If he could just bring
himself to cross the gaping abyss of the ten feet that separated them.
Toby stepped forward into the rain, and then watched in utter amazement as the woman glanced at
the station house, not even seeing him, and snapped her fingers imperiously. The sound seemed to
hang on the air, impossibly loud and distinct against the din of the driving rain, as she strode


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towards a door in the station-house wall that Toby was sure as hell hadn't been there the moment
before. He'd been buying his ticket here for years, on and off, and there had only ever been the