Page 11 of The Price of Love
‘Go ahead, show Will round. I’ll make some tea, yeah?’
What, my ludicrously undomesticated brother making tea?
‘Boiling water. From a kettle,’ I called as Ash disappeared into the recesses of the dark.
‘Ha. Bitch.’
Cal stood smiling curiously at me. ‘You’re very pretty,’ he said disarmingly. ‘Ash has told me a lot about you, but he didn’t tell me that.’
‘Um, thank you,’ I stammered. I actually felt a bit windswept from the journey over and kept catching sight of a wayward piece of hair sticking out at right angles above my left ear. ‘I’m not sure he’s noticed, actually. Have you known Ash long?’
‘’Bout three years.’ Cal moved forward towards a door which he threw open to reveal a large room, and I could see properly. See, for example, that he was using a stick. See also that he moved in a lurch as though one leg was longer than the other. I bit my lip.
‘Living room. Dining room at the back. Over that side of the house is the kitchen and study, which is actually the old walk-in larder. Upstairs’ — the stick gestured at the ceiling — ‘there’s two bedrooms and a bathroom so disgusting I’d advise you to pee in the field. I haven’t found out where it flushes to, but I betthat’snot going to be good news.’
I half-smiled but was finding it hard to tell whether this man was joking or not. He kept a straight face and delivered his words sharply, as though he wasn’t used to talking to strangers.
‘Cal.’
‘Willow.’
‘Why am I here?’
‘Ash wanted to bring you. He thought we should meet.’ Cal shuffled himself around to face me. ‘And I’m glad we have.’
Okay, I had to get this question out of the way, whilst we were still relative strangers. It would be a lot more awkward if his relationship with Ash really took off and I was still skirting around the topic. ‘What’s the matter with your leg?’
Cal tipped his head on one side. ‘War wound,’ he said, deadpan. ‘Got shot up in ’45, had to put the old crate downbehind enemy lines. All very hush-hush, donchaknow.’ Still no trace of humour, but a slight brittleness which told me this was his standard reply, a running gag to keep people from intruding. It made me wince on his behalf.
‘You don’t look old enough to have fought in the war,’ I replied in kind. If he wanted his privacy, he had nothing to fear from me.
‘Oil of Olay, m’dear. Fantastic stuff. I’m actually a hundred and three.’ I couldn’t help myself, and snorted back a laugh. Cal’s face brightened. ‘That’s better. You shouldn’t take me seriously. And you’re even prettier when you smile.’
Despite knowing he was Ash’s, despite his clearly doing his best to keep me at arm’s length as far as personal questions were concerned, and despite the fact that I’d only just met him, I blushed. As I was about to say something witty and snappy and devastating, Ash bounced back into the room with three mugs of something which looked almost like tea.
‘Ash, you’re going to make someone a wonderful wife.’ Cal, still deadpan, took his mug. ‘Can you iron?’
Now it was Ash’s turn to blush. I looked over my tea at the pair of them: Ash skinny in his leathers, hair ruthlessly spiked into a bleached Number 2, and Cal unkempt in a check shirt and jeans, tall, thin and dark, dark, dark. Talk about an odd couple.
‘Look, I really should be getting back.’ I swallowed my scalding tea.
‘Are you still having trouble with your laptop?’ Cal asked out of nowhere.
‘What? Laptop? Oh, yeah, loose connection or something. Bloody stupid machines. Better off with a piece of paper and a slide rule.’
Cal looked at Ash. ‘Well, that’s me Luddite-ed out of a job.’
‘Cal’s a computer consultant,’ Ash explained, whilst I watched Cal being quietly amused. ‘That’s why I told him aboutyour laptop. Thought you might want him to take a look at it for you.’
‘Oh. Sorry. About the slide rule thing. Obviously. Couldn’t, um, do spreadsheets with a slide rule.’
‘Only I could pick it up from you and drop it round to Cal’s tomorrow.’ Ash’s voice had a pleading tone. Oh-ho, I thought, still at the looking-for-every-opportunity-to-drop-in stage, eh?
‘No, it’s too far to bike all the way over here again just for my laptop.’
‘No, it’s fine. Cal lives in York. Works from home.’ Normally if I’d asked Ash for a favour such as, say, picking up my dry-cleaning you’d have thought I’d asked him to mud-wrestle Madonna, but now it seemed he couldn’t do enough.
‘I just inherited this place,’ Cal said calmly, as though the intimated early-morning presence of a sex-crazed Ash was a well-known occupational hazard to computer consultants. Perhaps he was looking forward to it. ‘My great-aunt died. Well, obviously. Inheriting from the living is something of an extreme sport, I should imagine. I used to spend summer holidays here and she knew I loved the place, so . . .’ A twist of his head and a small shrug. Again, that touch of vulnerability, quickly glossed over. I was beginning to see what Ash saw in Cal — apart from his total shaggability, of course.
