Page 98 of Last Letter Home
‘I have the time. But Greg let slip some of it. He says you and he are cousins or something? He’s trying to view you in a new light. Sounds weird.’
She nodded, sure now that Greg was stepping back, allowing Luke to have his chance.
‘He knows about Aruna, too,’ Luke went on. ‘He must have done the whole time.’
‘Because she was asking questions?’
‘I got it all out of her. About the man she’d met in the flash car outside the villa, who told her about the British soldiers who’d murdered Antonio. She started to make her own investigations and approached Greg behind your back. I still don’t know why.’
‘I think I do,’ Briony whispered. ‘She can be like that sometimes. I don’t know if it’s jealousy, but she can play these power games.’
She thought about all the times that Aruna had interfered in her life. The awful TV show . . . She also didn’t want to discuss any of this with Luke. That seemed a low thing to do.
‘She loved you though, Luke. Still does, by all accounts.’ She felt she had to say this, to be fair to Aruna.
Luke said nothing, but sat with both hands cradling his mug staring down into his tea. ‘It’s over,’ he muttered finally, ‘and she knows it.’
‘Luke, Aruna blames me, but I don’t know why.’
‘Don’t you?’ he said, staring up at her, his eyes narrowed, his expression serious. ‘You really don’t know?’
‘What?’ Her voice was faint.
‘You haven’t “done” anything, but Aruna sensed the truth anyway.’
‘That . . . things weren’t right between you?’
He sighed, placed his mug on the table and sat back in his seat. ‘Are you being deliberately obtuse?’
She flinched at his tone of frustration, then was angry. ‘Stop talking in riddles. Luke, listen, I first thought things couldn’t be right between the two of you when you came here on your own that day. There was something . . . different about your behaviour. I thought, well, that you were being flaky and that sort of thing really hacks me off.’
‘And that’s not me, Briony. I’m not like that. It’s just I’d started to realize properly . . .’ He was sitting up straight now, and his look was fiery, the red lights in his toffee-coloured hair glinting. ‘I don’t know how to say this. I’ll only get it wrong.’
The room was full of a charged energy. Slowly, Briony put her tea down, rose and went to sit beside him on the sofa. It felt like the bravest thing she had ever done. ‘Tell me,’ she whispered. ‘I’m listening.’
He smiled, his eyes brightening with amusement. Very gently he reached out and took her hand. ‘Close your eyes, then, and I’ll tell you.’ She did as he bid.
‘The day it happened, when the three of us first met, I was, if you remember, pressure washing a patio I’d been mending. Horribly wet and noisy it was. Suddenly someone taps me on the shoulder, making me jump, and I turn to see this pretty cool chick who’s babbling on at me about a lost cat.’
‘I was not babbling.’
‘OK, asking me, then. I turn off the water and we have a chat about this mog, and all the time I’m thinking how nice she looks, and it’s touching how upset she is for her friend, and I’m glad that it’s so easy to help her because I’d been hearing meowing from the place next door all afternoon.’
‘Poor old Purrkins, he must have been terrified getting stuck like that,’ Briony said, relishing the sense of warmth creeping up inside her.
‘And I made some appalling joke about cats’ nine lives and you laughed and you have such a great laugh, Briony, have I ever told you that?’
She shook her head. Luke’s grip tightened on her hand, she felt his warm breath on her cheek.
‘But the next thing that happens is that another cool chick arrives, this petite little thing, and she is really upset about her cat and she definitely does babble away. And when I shimmy over the fence and push the cat flap so the mog can get out, she’s so grateful, almost crying with relief, and she hugs me and invites me over to supper.’
‘I remember,’ Briony gave a grim sigh.
‘But wait. When I get back over the fence, there is the first chick and it’s like the light has gone out inside her. She’s all frosty, just thanks me in this polite voice and gives me a polite smile. Then the second chick, who’s invited me over, asks you, too, but it’s like she’s tossed you some ball invisible to the likes of me and you catch it and say, no, you’re busy that evening and smile warmly at your friend. Then you give me a nod and off you go.’
‘That is really how you saw it?’
‘Oh yes.’
