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Anne Mather - Jake Howard's Wife

Anne Mather - Jake Howard's Wife



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Published by sarita_shetty

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Published by: sarita_shetty on Mar 19, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Jake Howard's wife
Anne Mather
inter-city express was nearing King's Cross. It was runningbetween the high tenement buildings that did not endear thissection of the city to its planners. More contemporary were thesoaring skyscrapers, as ugly in their way as the tenements: slabsof concrete and glass, stark and impersonal. At least the tenementshad lines of grimy washing outside to advertise human habitation.The skyscraper flats could have been some kind of monolithictemples to the gods.Jake Howard glanced up from the papers strewn on the table infront of him and registered his whereabouts with a faint flicker of surprise. London; only two and a half hours after leaving York.How easy it was to get about these days! He could have flowndown, of course, but he enjoyed the train journey. It reminded himof his youth, of his first impressions of the big city, of the young,inexperienced fool he had been then.A steward tapped on the window of his private compartment andwith an imperative gesture Jake indicated that the man couldenter.'Only five minutes to King's Cross, Mr. Howard.' he said, politely,deferentially. "ls there anything else you need, sir? Another drink,perhaps?"Jake shook his head, and sliding his hand into his trousers' pocketdrew out a five-pound note. 'Nothing else, thank you.' he replied,handing the man the note. 'But you can arrange for the luggage tobe taken to my car when we arrive.'
'Of course, sir. Thank you. sir. I hope you've had a pleasant journey."Jake's grey eyes narrowed ironically. 'Reasonably so, thank you.'he drawled.The steward smiled politely and withdrew. After he had gone Jakebegan to thrust his scattered papers back into his briefcase. Duringthe course of the journey he had been able to complete hisassessment of the Havilland deal and he felt confident that therewould be no hitches there. Havilland Chemicals would soon bepart of the Howard Foundation, and that pleased him enormously.Of course, he would need to discuss the details with Sinclair in themorning, but that was merely a formality.He finished putting his papers away, and taking out a case of cigars put one between his teeth. He lit it casually, resting his dark head against the soft upholstery. Outside the train's slightly mistedwindows the lights of the town glimmered brightly. It was afterseven and it was too late in the year to expect the light to lastmuch longer. It was cold, too. He had felt it as he waited forthe train on the station at York: the sharp biting blast of an castwind accentuating the already cold October weather. After theheat of the west coast of the United States it was doubly chilling.He smiled to himself. What a way to return to London fromCalifornia; via Glasgow, and York railway station! But it was hisusual practice. He always spent his first night back in Englandwith his mother, and as she lived in Selby. in Yorkshire, heinvariably flew into Prestwick and travelled south from there.His thoughts moved on. over the irritating moments of changingfrom train to his chauffeur-driven limousine, to his eventual

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