Читать онлайн «My Favourite Wife»
Автор Тони Парсонс
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MY FAVOURITE WIFE
lony Parsons is the author of
11( lives in London.
'I lc takes as his specialist subject contemporary emotional issues which almost every other male writer has ignored'
'Л touching novel . . . full of quiet tenderness and written
h'om the heart'
Tunny, serious, tender and honest… Tony Parsons is writing
the genuine dilemmas of modern life'
'Memorable and poignant – nobody squeezes more genuine
emotion form a scene than Tony Parsons'
'His stories show all too well how we muddle along in search
of love and fulfilment, and when we fluff it . . . sometimes
that's just because it's easier'
'Parsons poses some interesting questions about love and life
in the modern world, proving once again that he's a writer
with his finger firmly on the pulse'
'Bursting at the seams with romantic dilemmas, sex and second
wives, this is another triumph for Parsons'
'Tony Parsons is the master of the bittersweet love story'
Chinese proverb
one
I'. i 11 must have fallen asleep for a moment. He was jolted m. i к с by the limo hitting a pothole and suddenly there was Shanghai. The towers of Pudong split the night. He rubbed Ini eyes, and turned to look at his wife and daughter in the bflcl seat.
I lolly, their four-year-old, was sleeping with her head in I mi mother's lap, blonde curls tumbling across her face, ihissed like some sort of Disney princess. He wasn't sure which one.
She can't be comfortable in that,' he said, keeping his Mine down.
Holly had been awake, or sleeping fitfully, for most of the flight.Hecca, his wife, carefully removed the child's tiara. 'She's fine,' she said.
'foreigners are very jealous they see this,' said the driver, whose name was Tiger. He indicated the Pudong skyline. 'Fifteen year ago – all swampland. ' Tiger was young, barely in his twenties, wearing a half-hearted sort of uniform with three gold stripes on his cuff. The young man bobbed his head with emphatic pride. 'New, boss – all new. '
Bill nodded politely. But it wasn't the newness of Shanghai
that overwhelmed him. It was the sheer scale of the place. They were crossing a river much wider than anything he had expected and on the far side he could see the golden glow of the Bund, the colonial buildings of the pre-war city staring across at Pudong's skyscrapers. Shanghai past facing Shanghai future.
The car came off the bridge and down a ramp, picking up speed as the traffic thinned. Three men, filthy and black, their clothes in tatters, all perched on one ancient bicycle with no lights, slowly wobbled up the ramp towards the oncoming traffic. One was squatting on the handlebars, another was leaning back in the seat and the third was standing up and pumping on the pedals. They visibly shook as the car shot past. Then they were gone.
