Чжун Куй – хранитель ворот. Народное творчество

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СКАЧАТЬ to her stomach. Internal turbulence. But in nineteen years her diary had never let her down, never told her it was too busy, never not been there for her…until now.

      Ben refused to open his eyes. Having tossed and turned for most of the night, typically he’d only finally managed to drift into a proper sleep moments before the alarm had gone off. Yet it appeared, from the generally high activity levels going on around him, that his sister was well and truly up. On a Friday morning. On vacation. He must have been adopted; there was no way they could share genes.

      Doing his utmost to pretend he was still asleep, he willed the steady hum of the air-conditioning to lull him back into unconsciousness, and was practically knocking on nirvana’s door when a very familiar voice started up right next to his ear. He should have read the small print. This had been sold to him as a free weekend away, not some sort of boot camp. But there was always a catch.

      ‘Ben…jy.’ The sing-song pre-school approach to his name was quickly cast aside in favour of an impatient bark. ‘Ben… Come on.’ If he’d had four legs he’d have known he was in trouble. ‘Look, I know you’re awake—your breathing’s changed. Come on, will you?’ No wonder David hadn’t minded him taking his place. Ben wondered whether his clients really were in town this weekend.

      Ali poked his arm and Ben faked a somnolent shrug and murmur before opening one eye—partially and deliberately obstructed by his arm over his face—giving him a restricted view of his sister, who was squatting down at the edge of the bed. He tried not to smile. Things hadn’t changed in twenty-five years. Then on Sunday mornings she’d physically prised his eyelids apart to prove that he was awake before forcing him to play stupid games—usually involving dressing up in clothes their mother had charitably donated to their cause—he suspected now, merely so that she hadn’t had to actually throw or give them away.

      ‘Ha! Stop pretending. I just saw you open your eye. Your arm shield needs work.’

      Ben stretched indulgently before propping himself up on the pillows. ‘Give me a break.’

      ‘I know you.’

      ‘I’d hope so.’

      ‘Better than you know yourself.’

      ‘Hmm, I’m not sure about that.’

      ‘Well, I know that this pretending to be asleep ruse is a) gym avoidance…’

      It was fair comment. But the sight of Ali in full Nike regalia before nine on a Friday morning was inducing acute narcolepsy. After hours of sleep deprivation, his eyelids felt incredibly heavy, and a vortex of dizziness was threatening to pin him to the mattress.

      ‘…and b) because you’re still worrying about Julia. Come on. You should come for a workout with me.’

      ‘Are you insane?’ Ben yawned and stretched before springing back into the foetal position.

      ‘You could do with it.’

      Ben clenched his stomach muscles and stabbed at his T-shirt-covered torso to reassure himself that he still had some muscle tone, even if it was currently a few centimetres below the surface.

      ‘Maybe later. I’ve never been any good at physical exertion first thing. And I’ve only had about ten minutes’ sleep so it might just kill me.’

      Ali rolled her eyes.

      ‘Okay, maybe a couple of hours, tops, but I didn’t sleep much on the plane.’ He couldn’t help it if he was a sucker for seat-back Nintendo games and multiple movie channels playing on a loop. ‘And I’ve never been a morning person.’

      ‘It’s nearly two in the afternoon for us.’

      ‘For you, maybe. Anyway, that would make it just about time for an afternoon snooze.’ Ben folded his arms behind his head and indulged in a prolonged blink. Closed was definitely preferable to open.

      ‘You can’t just lie here moping.’

      ‘I would have been quite happy sleeping.’ Ben pulled the heavy Egyptian cotton covers up to his nose and relished the weight of the down duvet on his weak body.

      ‘Bull…it’d be good for you to get your blood pumping.’

      ‘It’d be better for you. You’re the one writing an article on the gym refurbishment. I might come along tomorrow, or I’ll go for a run in the park later. I need more sleep.’

      ‘Whatever.’

      ‘One of the advantages of being single is autonomy. Or at least that was the idea…’

      ‘Julia wasn’t bossy.’

      Ben smiled to himself. In some respects she and Ali had been way too similar. They always say girls pick men like their fathers, but did brothers pick women like their sisters? Right now, he hoped not. ‘Besides I hate gyms. Too many mirrors. I want the before and after, not during. I mean, who looks good while they’re exercising?’

      ‘You’ll have to look yourself in the eye eventually, and she’s bound to have pulled herself back together by now—she’s a tough cookie…’

      He just wished she didn’t have to hate him in the process.

      ‘Far better that you were honest. The longer you’d left it, the harder it would have become—and if you’d strung her along I’d have disowned you. Plus, just for the record, there are far more single women of your age out there than men. Read any of the magazines on my bedside table if you don’t believe me.’

      ‘Hey, I’m not desperate.’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘Even if I said the “d” word out loud, which might mean that you think I am because I’ve said I’m not.’

      ‘You are such an amateur shrink sometimes.’

      ‘I’m just a little disheartened. She wasn’t who I’d thought she was.’

      ‘We’ve all done it.’ Ali shuddered at the memories of dating pre-David. The drip-feeding of information at appropriate moments in an attempt to generate common ground before coming out with the more contentious, potentially deal-breaking stuff farther down the line. At seventeen she’d even reinvented herself sartorially in pursuit of Johnny’s affections. But he had been very cute. Everyone in her year had wanted to date him.

      Ben smiled. ‘Are we talking ten-hole Doc Martens?’

      Ali nodded sheepishly. Hormones had a lot to answer for.

      ‘And the rockabilly quiff…?’ He was enjoying this moment. She’d looked like a cross between Morrissey and the B52s.

      She laughed nervously, willing the conversation to move on. ‘It was an important experimental phase…’

      ‘Turn-ups on your vintage 501s…bright red lipstick… Mum thought you were about to come out.’

      ‘Yeah, yeah… All photographic evidence has been systematically destroyed. And I don’t think I need to take this from the СКАЧАТЬ