through large table entitled 'Bargain Books.'
"By the way," Denise said as she peered over his shoulder, "Randa knew about that woman anyway."
"Really?" Carl looked up surprised. "You told her?"
Shaking her head Denise pulled Carl away from the table and continued her approach to the signing area. "Nope, she's only gone and installed satellite
television so I can get Brit shows in the US. She saw it on a news item."
"Unlucky!" Carl laughed. "Was she pissed?"
"She was actually okay about it." Smiling in memory, DJ thought back to the conversation she'd had with Randa the night before. It had been the nurse's
idea to communicate through their computers even though Denise had assured her that she would pay any long distance telephone costs. She even tried
to encourage Randa to call her reversed charges but Randa still insisted on other less expensive means. Besides, using Randa's new toy had turned out
to be an amusing event and she had never been able to resist teasing the blonde.
Positioning herself upon the corner of the table DJ glanced at Carl. The editor had taken a detour from the signing area. He was now heading back
towards her accompanied by a smartly dressed woman in a pinstriped suit with long blonde hair.
"DJ, this is Kay Blackwood; the store manager."
Oops! Rising from the table sheepishly Denise held out her hand. "Hi."
"Miss Jennings, it's an honour to have you here today."
"No problem." Denise smiled politely. "So I take it we are ready to get under way?" The poet made a show of flexing her hand, causing the other two to
smile. "I'm ready and raring to go."
The manager looked around the store. "I presume I shouldn't leave the queue waiting any longer& so yes, I do believe we are ready." With a polite nod
Kay Blackwood walked off in the direction of the main doors.
Carl watched her leave with a grin. Letting his head fall to the side his eyes rested upon the woman's retreating behind. Denise caught his line of sight and
rolled her eyes. Reaching out she grabbed the blonde man's ear and pulled him around to the back of the desk.
"Ouch, Ouch, Ouch! Bloody hell! DJ, are you trying to pull it off?" He rubbed his ear with a low hanging lip.
"No, I was just going to remind you about that gold band around your finger!" DJ lifted his left hand and tapped his wedding ring.
"Nothing wrong with looking." Carl straightened his blue, two-toned checked tie. "I would never be unfaithful to Chris. 'I' wouldn't even allow another woman
to kiss me."
DJ sat down behind the desk and let her feet rest upon the wooden surface. "Jealous?"
"Yes!" Carl smiled as he said, "Anyway& no matter what I say I know that woman would still of had more chance with me than you!"
Understanding his meaning Denise nodded. "You are bloody right there, Carl. There is only one person for me!"
"Lucky sod."
Denise frowned. "Who?"
"Randa& you& the both of you. You know that I& " Carl paused as he caught movement in the corner of his eye. He looked across the shop floor. "Looks
like you are in business!"
Eyes wide, Denise pulled her feet from the table and sat up straight. A flood of people began to filter into the shop. "Let the madness begin!"
***
Feeling a slight cramp settle into her left wrist, Denise dropped her pen and looked up at the middle aged man standing by her table. With an expression
of thanks the greying man walked away and DJ took a moment to massage her stiff hand. Nimble fingers manipulating her left palm, she glanced over at
the last of the waiting queue. Denise figured she had to have signed over two hundred copies of her book. By the look of the remaining line she presumed
she now only had two or three people left. An internal flood of relief washed over her. The poet hadn't moved from her chair in almost three hours and the
desire to stretch her legs and ingest something other than mineral water was becoming a high priority in her mind. She looked across the shop floor to
where Carl stood. He was busy tucking into a sausage roll that he'd just brought from the bakery across the street. He had slipped past her earlier stating
that the bakery also sold éclairs and that thought alone had fuelled her desire to continue.
Draining the remaining water from her bottle Denise looked over to the queue. Two of the remaining three walked over and she smiled wondering how
they would act. Denise had found she was able to put them into a number of categories. There were the shy people who blushed more than spoke. The
stunned people who seemed more surprised to see her than anything. The exuberant people who talked non-stop and felt the need to ask her as many
questions as they could, and of course the small group of opportunists who flirted with Denise and even propositioned her for a night out. Though the poet
did admit that they were mostly women she wondered whether any of them had actually taken her dedication to Randa seriously!
A mother and young daughter stopped by DJ's table and the poet looked up expectantly.
"Umm." The woman placed her copy of the book down and froze.
Denise opened the front cover as she looked back and forth between the mother and daughter. "What would you like me to write?"
Seeing no response from her mother the young girl said, "You can write 'to mum and your name'."
Denise smiled as she leaned forward in her chair. "I don't think I can call your mum& 'Mum'!" She smiled at the mother politely, noticing she was still rather
quiet. DJ looked back at the girl, "You will have to tell me her name."
The young girl giggled. "It's Clair."
"Okay." Denise said as she signed her book. "Nice pigtails, by the way."
"My mum did them." The little girl smiled and looked up at her mother.
DJ nodded as she handed her book back to the woman with a smile.
"Thank you," she said. "Sorry."
"No problem." Denise winked at the young girl. "Have a good day."
The girl waved as her mother led her away and Denise chuckled as another book was placed in front of her. Still smiling she looked up into light blue eyes
framed by red wavy hair. "Hi."
"Maggie." The woman said simply.
"Umm& okay." Furrowing her brow, Denise opened the book and signed her name. She looked back at the redhead and pushed her anthology over the
surface of the table. A silence stretched out between them as Denise waited for her to either speak or take the book and leave. When the woman did
neither the poet's expression changed to one of confusion. She didn't want to appear impolite but the way in which the woman was looking at her was
beginning to feel disconcerting.
"Is there something& ?"
"You think you know everything about her?" Maggie interrupted, "But do you know who I am?"
"I um& " as what the woman was saying sunk into her mind, clarity hit DJ and she realised she was facing the writer of the anonymous letters. Denise rose
to her feet. "You," she said, "You wrote the letters?"
"You don't know who I am& why would you?" Maggie continued.
Denise studied the redhead carefully. She didn't understand what Maggie was saying. "Look, I think you may have your wires crossed here. I have no idea
what you are trying to imply and for that matter what you are even talking about. I really don't appreciate& "
"Oh, you don't appreciate?" Maggie interrupted again, "I bet it has always been about you and what you want, hasn't it?"
Confused, Denise asked, "What?"
"Why would she want you and not me?" Maggie leaned closer to the poet. "What is so special about you?"
Confusion clouding her mind, Denise sighed in frustration. "Look, why don't you just explain yourself or leave? I really don't have time to stand here and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]