Потерянная любовь : [новелла] = Lost Love : [a short story]

Маргарита Авербух

Потерянная любовь

НОВЕЛЛА

Lost Love

A SHORT STORY

Учебное пособие

Москва
Издательство «ФЛИНТА»
2021

УДК 811.111(075.8)
ББК  81.432.1я73
          А19

А19           

Авербух М.Д.
Потерянная любовь : [новелла] = Lost Love : [a short story] 
[Электронный ресурс]: учеб. пособие / М.Д. Авербух. — Москва : 
ФЛИНТА, 2021. — 64 с.

ISBN 978-5-9765-4463-5

Пособие состоит из двух частей: первая часть — новелла “Lost 
Love”, написанная на английском языке; вторая часть — упражнения, которые способствуют глубокому усвоению материала. Автор 
уделяет много внимания стратегии чтения, дает рекомендации, как 
работать с названием книги, как и где искать ключевые слова и предложения и т.д. Автор также объясняет, как писать различные виды 
сочинений. В конце английского текста представлены англо-русский 
словарь, подробный перечень употребляемых грамматических моделей и список дискуссионных тем.
Пособие предназначено для использования на занятиях по чтению 
на факультетах или отделениях английского языка, а также подойдет 
для тех, кто изучает английский язык самостоятельно.

УДК 811.111(075.8)
ББК  81.432.1я73

ISBN 978-5-9765-4463-5
© Авербух М.Д., 2021
© Издательство «ФЛИНТА», 2021

To my daughter

Посвящается дочери

Предисловие

Данная книга, новелла «Потерянная любовь», представляющая 
собой художественное произведение, не только предназначена для 
широкого круга читателей, владеющих английским языком в объеме 
“Intermediate Level”, но может быть также с успехом использована в 
качестве учебного пособия на факультетах или отделениях английского языка на занятиях по чтению.
Сюжет новеллы основан на встрече двух молодых людей, испытывающих сильное влечение друг к другу. К сожалению, их встречи 
внезапно прекращаются по вине молодого человека. Однако они вновь 
встречаются и, как оказалось, их любовь не угасла. Но финал новеллы 
остается загадкой до самого конца.
Публикуемая книга состоит из двух частей: первая часть — новелла 
“Lost Love”, написанная на английском языке; вторая часть — огромное количество методических упражнений к английскому тексту, которые способствуют глубокому усвоению материала и которые преподаватель может использовать по своему собственному усмотрению.
Предваряя методические упражнения, автор уделяет много внимания самой стратегии чтения, т.е. дает советы, на что обратить внимание на уроках чтения: как работать с названием книги, как и где искать 
ключевые слова и ключевые предложения, как создается настроение 
текста и для чего это надо, с какой целью в повествовательном тексте 
может иметь место диалог и т.д. Автор также объясняет, как писать 
различные виды сочинений. Более того, первая глава новеллы полностью укомплектована методическими упражнениями.
После завершения английского текста печатается англо-русский 
словарь (glossary), в котором слова даются в порядке их использования в тексте. Помещен также подробный перечень грамматических 
моделей, употребляемых в тексте, и прилагается список дискуссионных тем для обсуждения в учебном процессе, например:
1) воспитание детей в семье;
2) отношения супругов;

3) отношение к работе;
4) мода;
5) внешность;
6) любовь;
7) природа;
8) еда;
9) мебель и т.д.

Каждый преподаватель найдет для себя много ценной и интересной информации.
Книга написана современным английским языком с использованием большого количества выражений, мало известных не носителям 
языка и мало используемых в современных учебных пособиях. Книга 
читается легко и увлекательно. Автор желает и читателям, и преподавателям, и студентам приятной работы с книгой.

Chapter 1

“That’s weird,” I think to myself. I don’t feel like working any more at 
all. And no wonder. I’ve been totally stressed out lately. Without thinking 
twice, I set my office answering machine, grab my bag, and off I go. Five 
minutes later I am outside my office, hanging out and watching the world 
go by. “Oh, Lord!” I can feel my heart pounding wildly, as in the distance  
I see Mike, sauntering along, carrying a large bundle in his hand. I am right 
in his path. He is on the back foot on seeing me and there is bewilderment 
in his face. Frankly speaking, I am taken aback too. We stop and there is 
a taut silence between us. Instinctively, I back away a little, and feel blood 
ebbing in and out of my face. I need to get my head straight. But I can’t,  
I am a bit light-headed. Eventually, I manage to find my voice: “You never 
breathed a word! How dare you!” I want to yell at him. I want to give a 
go at him. I shrug, as though to brush away my fury. My anger abates 
a little and I stop in dismay. Suddenly, my mobile phone comes alive in 
my handbag, but I ignore its constant vibrations, though it keeps ringing 
shrilly. “Why not put it on hold? I hear him saying, so that we can talk a 
little.” I know I have to get a grip of myself, but my stomach is lurching. 
“A talk? What can we talk about?” But actually, he has a point. It was 
him who broke things off, with no warning, no talking, and no discussion. 
Things went a bit weird at that time. He keeps shooting wary looks at 
me. I realize he wants to give us a way out of this sticky situation. I steal 
a glance at Mike and he looks totally freaked out. I nod because I don’t 
want to do anything rash. 
We head for a cafe. I know this café too well as I often pop in there to 
grab something to eat. I try to compose myself. I unbutton my jacket, sling 
it over a chair, and flop on my seat. We exchange fretful glances. — “It’s 
always best to talk things through, isn’t it?” He expects me to say something 
in response, but I can’t bring myself to speak. I try to gather my wits, but 
instead, I start fidgeting with my bracelets, entwined around my wrist. At 
last, I look up. His eyes are scanning my face and I flinch. Now his eyes 
are boring into mine. To be quite frank, they are giving me the twinges. 

His face flickers with a smile. But it’s not his smile which I used to like so 
much. It’s a fake smile. The smile fades away and I can hear him talking: 
— “You have no idea what I went through.” He sounds remote, but I can 
feel he is at the end of his tether. — “I’ve been meaning to make contact with 
you for months, but I’ve been so scared and I am still is.” I look expectantly 
at him. He used to be tall and broad, with dark wavy hair, and I am still is. 
But now he is hunched over in his chair. — “I have a daughter, Emmy, he 
suddenly blurts out. She is about a year old. I know it’s hard to accept, but 
that’s the way things are. And that’s why I’ve been away for so long.” I shrink 
in my seat. My face crumples in distress. But Mike goes on: — “Well, to 
begin at the beginning, I got a letter from Nataly, a close friend of Emmy’s 
mother, Paula. Nataly wrote that Paula died of some incurable disease just 
some months later after she gave birth to Emmy, and she asked Nataly to 
track me down.” Mike suddenly stops and looks at me and there is so much 
pain in his face. I can’t process the enormity of what I’ve just heard. It’s 
just like a bolt from the blue. Mike keeps talking, looking at me without  
blinking. — “What’s more, Paula asked me to take care of the girl, because 
there is nobody else in this world to support her. She, I mean Paula, even 
succeeded in having collected some necessary papers that were verified 
by a lawyer. The only thing I had to do was to have a DNA test done. Then 
the lawyer started formal proceedings. To make a long story short, Emmy 
is really my daughter.”
For a moment I think I must have heard wrong. The enormity of the 
news is slowly sinking in. I look up in a daze and my heart drops in dismay.  
I bury my head in my hands despairingly. It’s such a preposterous story, 
and I stare at Mike dumbfoundedly. His face sags. All my misery of the 
situation is bursting out in a vent of anger. My voice wobbles and I burst 
out crying. My sobs are so bitter, and so loud and so heaving that no doubt 
there are astounded looks, passing between the people in the café. Shooting 
anxious glances at me, Mike ushers me out of the café. Then, as he wraps 
his arms around me, and pulls me tighter to him, I give a small squeak 
of fright. Mike doesn’t know what to do with me. His voice is weary. —  
“I’ll hail a cab,” he is saying. But a taxi is sailing past even though the 
green light is on. At last, he flags a cab, and helps me into it. He is saying 
something, but I can’t make out his words. The taxi sails off. 

Chapter 2

I am at home in a vicious mood and my brain is going soggy. I am on 
the brink of meltdown. To damp down my agitation I pour myself some 
wine. It never even has crossed my mind that I am still smitten with Mike 
though I thought my love affair was dead. I feel tears brimming up in my  
eyes. 
A new idea has flashed into my mind. “How did our relations start? ” 
I am asking myself. I remember having got acquainted with him at some 
presentation. My colleague introduced him to me. He was tall, and his 
dinner jacket (DJ) fit him perfectly, and he looked cool. After a while  
I asked my friend to have a look at me. She scanned my top-to-toe black 
outfit: pencil trousers, a camisole, a little cropped jacket, ballet pumps and 
not much make-up. “Perfect,” my friend said. Little by little we started 
dating. We had so much in common that very soon we were THE perfect 
match, as he was absolutely my sort. Once when we had a heart-to heart 
talk, he confessed that he had had sex before meeting me, but it wasn’t 
a love affair, just sex. Glumly, I’ve come to terms with it, and we agreed 
to take things slowly and sensibly. Then, out of interest, I log on to my 
computer, but there are no e-mails waiting for me. I don’t know what to 
busy myself with, and in order to set my mind at rest, I flick on the kettle, 
pour tea, slosh milk into my tea, dump the milk carton back into the fridge, 
dump the dirty dishes into the sink and feel much better. 
And then I have an idea. Why not phone Mum? She is always good 
at straightening things out, but Mum is out, nobody answers the phone. 
Then I hear the doorbell ringing and I see Mum. Her brow is creased with 
anxiety. Mum plunges in first. She phoned the office and was told that 
I took a day off and she immediately went to see me. Frankly speaking, 
it’s such a relief to see Mum. Barely knowing what I am doing, I dissolve 
into heaving sobs. Glumly, I turn my head away as I don’t want mother 
to see me crying. Mother kicks off her shoes, sits down cross-legged on 
the sofa and talks and talks. Actually, mother has a point. — “Sex is not 
a love affair. It’s something else. Something that is extremely difficult to 

explain. You had a boyfriend too, didn’t you?” Deflated, I just nod. She 
has no idea that he dumped me by e-mail, and I have neither desire, nor 
stamina, nor time to put her in the picture, as his e-mail still winds me 
up. I can’t make out why he had to do that. But I am fine about it now. 
Things do happen. Mother feels that I am drained and wants me to have 
a nap. That’s exactly what I am going to do now if I possibly can. We 
arrange to get in touch later.