All the Little Things by Sarah Lawton (the best books to read txt) 📕

‘Okay, then,’ I found myself saying, swallowing my doubts. The lure of watching him draw was just too much, I was greedy for it. ‘When would you like these lessons?’

‘Can I just come when I’m free?’ he asked me, putting his pictures back into their folder carefully. I noticed they had been ordered by size. ‘I work shifts and they aren’t always on the same days.’

‘And you have school? College?’ I asked him, but he just shrugged. Maybe he was older than I’d thought or had dropped out early. I’d never had much time for anything but art myself at his age.

‘Well, I am at home most of the day; I work in my studio in the garden. But I need you to let me know at least the day before if you want a lesson, and I don’t want you messing me around and going weeks without and then wanting me every day, okay?’

He smiled a sharp smile and I realised what I had said, and stammered, ‘J-just take my number.’

‘I’ve already got it, Rachel,’ he said, rolling my name around his mouth. ‘It was on the sign-up sheet for the life drawing.’

‘Well, then, you could have just texted me in the first place, Alex, instead of turning up at my house unannounced!’ I was still cross at the intrusion.

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ he replied, the sharp smile back on his face.

With that he turned and walked away, opening the door and leaving me with another burst of hot air from outside.

Feeling a bit jittery, I returned to the kitchen and impulsively grabbed my handbag before heading out myself, locking the door behind me.

The day was still very warm and by the time I reached the pub I was thirsty. I looked around inside for Steve but didn’t see him, and I supposed he might be sitting outside in the garden. I walked to the bar and got myself a lemonade. I couldn’t face hair of the dog.

I carried my drink outside and, sure enough, Steve was there, laughing, in the corner with one of the regulars. I watched them for a moment, their easy camaraderie. I let myself enjoy the small happiness that having friends who can’t judge you because they don’t know your secrets gave me.

‘Hello, trouble!’ Steve shouted, looking up and spotting me lurking. ‘Not brought your new boy toy, then? We just met him!’ His wicked brown eyes shone with humour and he patted the seat that his friend vacated as I approached, dropping me a wink as he went. The jumpsuit was definitely too young for me, and I felt myself blushing.

I sat down and gave him a push. ‘Steve! Shut up, you idiot. Did you tell him where I lived? He just wants some art lessons.’

‘Yeah, with Mrs Robinson!’

I picked an ice cube out of my drink and shoved it down the back of his T-shirt, causing him to scream loudly.

‘Stop it, Rach!’ he said, pulling at the bottom of his top until the ice cube fell out. ‘Sorry, I did tell him where you lived – he came in and asked. I didn’t think it would be a problem, as he said he was going to ask you for private lessons.’

I could see him trying to keep a straight face but it bothered me that he hadn’t considered my safety, or privacy. ‘He just gives me the creeps a bit.’

‘Maybe you need to get laid,’ said Steve, stretching his arms above his head, oblivious to the damp patches beneath them.

‘That’s your answer to everything.’

‘I know, darling, any excuse for a good shag. I’d do you but I don’t like lady bits. I could give your boobs a quick squeeze if you like, though?’ He made a honking motion at my chest and I slapped his hands away.

‘You are a prize idiot.’

‘Prize everything, my dear. When did you last have a good seeing to, anyway? I haven’t heard any gossip about you getting rodgered, and I get all the rodgering gossip. It’s the only reason I work in the bar.’

‘Steve! It’s not any of your business, thank you very much. I don’t want you gossiping about my love life in the bar to all the smelly old farmers.’

‘It’s obviously all the teenage testosterone he’s emitting,’ he said, elbowing me in the ribs and snorting into his wine glass. ‘You’re not used to it. It’s got you going.’ More laughing.

‘Steve! You emit plenty of testosterone!’ I protested. ‘That’s really not the issue.’

‘That’s true, darling, but my testosterone isn’t wafting your way.’ He sketched a square in the air in front of him. ‘I provide a safe space for ageing-spinster-born-again-virgins.’

I punched him in the arm, protesting that nearly thirty-seven did not make me ageing, and we laughed and I realised I was being stupid about the art lessons. Why wouldn’t I do them? Any income is useful when you’re a freelancer, Steve was always telling me sternly, thinking I was some sort of pauper. He didn’t know how much I’d made on my house sale, and I let him think I was just a poor, single mum who’d wanted a fresh start out of the expensive capital. Why correct him? I didn’t want anyone to know the real reasons we had left London.

‘Where’s the lovely Vivian tonight, anyway?’ asked Steve, topping up his glass, the scent of the wine slipping through the air making me shudder.

‘She’s gone to Molly’s,’ I said, taking a swig of my own drink, lemon tingling refreshingly sour in my mouth. ‘Abi and Gavin are off reviewing a hotel or spa or something and the girls are making the most of their garden, but they’ll be back at ours later.’

‘Do you think they’ll have a wild party?’ he said, the look on his face telling me he was remembering some of his own.

‘No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure there are even enough kids at school to have a