Page 43 of The Price of Love
‘Oh. Oh, you mean your . . .’
‘War wound, yes. Can’t do ladders. Great excuse never to have to paint window ledges. Or fit bird boxes.’
‘Or groom giraffes.’ I slowed down to walk beside him. ‘But, it’s not that bad, is it? I mean, you get about all right. It’s not like you’re . . .’
‘What? Not like I’m disabled? But I am, Willow. That’s precisely what I am. Disabled, special needs, a cripple, call itwhat you like. That’s me.’ His voice was so bitter that I was surprised the words didn’t drop, blackened, to the ground. ‘Aspastic.’
‘Cal.’
‘Go up to the cars. There’ll be a signal there.’ Cal stopped walking and turned around, looking out over the house.
‘Cal . . .’
‘Justgo.’
I left him, clenching his jaw and staring ferociously into the distance, and walked up the lane to the road, where the two cars were parked. I leaned against Cal’s (didn’t dare lean against Luke’s, might have smeared the paintwork), working hard not to notice the used condom lying on the backseat. So Cal wasn’t quite as unlucky in love as Ash made it sound? I tried to conjure the image of him making love to a girl in the back of the Micra, and failed. Not because I couldn’t imagine him naked, oh no, that bit was worryingly easy, but because I couldn’t imagine any woman getting down and dirty amid the cast-off sweet wrappers, crisp packets and changes of clothing. I wondered who she’d been. Lucky bitch.
Luke’s phone had a passcode. I stared at the numbers for a moment, a bit dumbfounded. I never locked my phone, none of my family did either, and we all had a tendency to use whichever sibling’s phone was nearest around the house.
‘What’s up?’ Cal seemed to have forgiven me for my faux pas, and had come up the lane behind me.
I held the phone up. ‘It’s locked.’
Cal took it from me and looked down at the screen, his mouth twisting up into a thoughtful expression. ‘Okay. Do you know the code?’
‘Why would I be standing looking at it if I knew the code?’
‘You might be admiring it. I’ve seen your phone, remember, it’s only one stage up from two treacle cans and a bit of string.I thought you might be puzzled about the absence of push buttons.’ He gave me a smile that contained a hint of ruefulness. ‘Sorry, by the way.’
‘It’s okay, I’ve been meaning to get a new phone, now I can afford it I might even get one like this.’ I held up Luke’s to indicate.
Cal grinned. ‘I meant about me being a dick and taking offence. I know you didn’t mean anything. I can sometimes be an oversensitive plonker, I’m afraid, when it comes to . . .’ He tapped his leg with his stick. ‘Give me the phone a sec.’
I handed it over, slowly. ‘You’re not going to do some kind of incantation, are you?’
He bent over the phone for a second, then looked at me, his grin a little broader now. ‘No, I’m going to do psychology. What’s Luke’s date of birth?’
I stared at him. ‘Surely not. I mean — no. He wouldn’t, would he?’
Cal widened his eyes at me and looked as though he was trying not to laugh. ‘Willow. He’s a self . . . I mean, he’s fairly wrapped up in himself.’ There was a weight to the words, as if Cal was trying to lay tact on top of honesty. I told him. Couldn’t believe it would work, half hoped that Luke would have used my birth date, or the date we first met, but the screen unlocked as soon as Cal thumbed the numbers. He held the phone up for me to take. ‘Sorry. Oldest trick in the book.’
‘Well, he’s got nothing to hide, so of course he’d use something like that.’ I sounded defensive, even to myself.
‘If he’s got nothing to hide, he’d tell you the passcode,’ Cal said, and the words were a bit clipped. I looked at him sideways over the phone screen and there was a look in his eyes that I couldn’t pin down, a kind of tightness,
‘I never need to use his phone, do I? I’ve got my own. Even if it is only one stage up from shouting loudly, as far as youare concerned.’ I kept it light. The last thing I wanted was for Cal to fall out with Luke over something as stupid as a phone. Luke might use it as an excuse to pull out of buying the farm. Although Cal really didn’t seem the type to pick a fight for fight’s sake, I’d already seen how Luke could take things the wrong way sometimes and I wanted everything to be amicable between these two. And I definitely didn’t want Cal asking any more questions about Luke, so I called up the phone keypad and dialled Bree’s number before Cal could reply.
‘Hello. Are you all right? Nothing happening?’ I asked of my dear sister, when she finally deigned to answer.
‘That depends what you mean by nothing, I suppose,’ she said. ‘Jazz is here and he and Ash are comparing gig scars.’
‘Who’s winning?’
‘Jazz, at the moment, with a nasty gash under the ribs from a, what was it? Oh yes, a Compounded gig in Manchester. I’m only hoping Ash doesn’t bring out the big guns and start showing everyone the scar he got when that roadie bit him in the bollocks.’
‘That was at an after-gig party. That doesn’t count. Anyway, just called to make sure you were okay. Better go. I’m on someone else’s phone.’ And I rang off, before I got any more details.
Cal was just standing, watching me. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘You know you owe it to yourself.’ His fingers were tapping on the car roof as though he was typing himself a message.
