Page 19 of The Price of Love
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Monday morning. Katie and I huddled in my office with a supply of chocolate biscuits, the phone on divert and a sign on the door warning Neil and Clive what happened to the last man to interrupt us.
‘So? What did he say about the fifty grand?’
‘I didn’t get to tell him. Every time I started to say something . . . Let’s just say, we didn’t really do much talking this weekend.’
‘Was he any good?’
I thought. ‘Oh, Katie, he wasfabulous.’
‘Lucky cow.Andyou got the Lake District. I only got a Saturday night in Blackpool out of Dan.’
‘Could have been worse.’ I got up to boil the kettle again. ‘Could have been Bognor.’
‘Yeah, but I came back pregnant with twins.’ Katie sighed and stood up. ‘Better get on with what we laughingly call “work” then.’ She walked to the door and stopped. ‘Will, can I be nosy?’
‘Why break the habit of a lifetime?’
‘No, it’s . . . whatisit with you and Luke? Is it a casual thing, or something else? Are you falling for him?’
I gave a rather superficial smile. ‘Why the interest? I’ve only known the man a couple of weeks.’
‘Just wondering whether I should be buying a hat or a huge stack of Kleenex, that’s all. Do you want it to be a relationship? Because if you do, then it’s about time you did a bit of talking, Will. If he finds out that you’ve been sitting on all this cash and not saying a word about it, it might give him the wrong impression about you, don’t you think?’
After Katie had gone out and I’d taken the phone off divert, I thought about what she’d said. Not about the talking part, talking could wait as far as I was concerned, but the falling in love part.WasI falling for Luke Fry? Casually, I let the memory of him wash through my mind. An image of him sitting on thegrass as we picnicked, head thrown back as he laughed at my impersonation of a duck, shirt slightly untucked, collar open to show golden skin.
Phew. I fanned at my face until the hot blush receded. So there was no doubt I was in lust with the man, but love?DidI love him?CouldI love him? Was I even capable of loving someone? After all, with my little — well, we decided we’d call it my little problem, didn’t we? — I’d not had a lot of practice at loving men. I loved my parents, wherever they were, and my siblings — sort of. As long as they didn’t interfere, or patronise me, or poke holes in my posters of Duran Duran, the bastards. But falling in love with a man was something else entirely, territory not exactly uncharted, but one with a map drawn on the back of a Mills & Boon cover in purple crayon.
I walked from work to Cal’s to pick up the laptop. At last the sky was the pure blue of a boiled sweet. Tulip and daffodil stems were pregnant with blooms and birds were beginning the annual round of gang warfare in the hedges, so my step was jaunty as I bounced my way up to the flat and leaned on the doorbell.
Cal must have been waiting, because the door swung inwards as soon as I rang. ‘Hey, Willow, good to see you.’
‘Hi.’ I went in. ‘Heard from Ash lately?’
For a second he looked puzzled, then grinned. ‘No. Not so much as a postcard, the bastard. Still, I’m looking on it as not so much losing a friend as regaining a sofa. Come on through. Hungry? I just made a mushroom stroganoff. Yeah, it looks like puke on a plate but, hell, it tastes good.’
‘Sounds great. Yes, I’d love some, thanks, Cal.’ I hadn’t intended to stay. I was going to grab the laptop, maybe have a cup of tea and rush off home for an early night to try to refill some of the bags under my eyes. But there was something about the combination of the sun slanting in through the long windows, the creamy smell of cooking and the general air ofstillness in the flat that made me think ‘sod it’. ‘Do you know where he’s gone this time? He came round for long enough to pack up some stuff and then he was off. Come to think of it, there were a lot of slammed doors — did you have an argument or something?’
Cal paused, mid-stride. ‘You’ll have to ask Ash, okay?’
‘If you say so. I usually avoid asking Ash anything.’ I looked out of the window, for some reason struggling for something to say. ‘It’s a beautiful evening.’
‘Thank you.’ Cal gave me a mischievous half-smile. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it is winching the sun into that particular spot in the sky? I was at it all morning.’
‘What with that and the gazebo I’m surprised you found time to cook.’ We were standing in the kitchen area now, a bare-floored room with exposed brick walls and a surprisingly large and professional-looking stainless steel cooker on one wall. Seating consisted of a big sofa with a low table in front, angled by one of the tall windows.
‘Yeah, I had to invite a tiny vicar to tea, to justify building it. Anyway, he fell off the window box, and it’s two storeys down. We haven’t found him yet.’ Cal gave me another grin. ‘Do you like red wine?’
‘Who doesn’t?’
He took two glasses from a shelf and put them on the table, then grabbed a bottle and corkscrew. ‘Do the honours then.’
I set to opening the bottle as Cal competently moved from stove to fridge and back, adding, stirring, his limp hardly noticeable in this confined space. I wondered exactly what my feral brother had in common with this gentle, domesticated man. But then attraction, I guess, moves in mysterious ways. I mean, look at Luke and me. I knew precisely what I saw in him, but what did he see in me? Apart from my more obvious charms, which I stared at, then jiggled.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ I looked up and saw Cal watching me, a newly poured glass of wine in each hand.
‘Looking at my boobs.’
