Page 39 of The Price of Love
We arrived around the front of the building, which must have covered at least the floor area of a football pitch, not counting the space outside, which was hard standing for the cars. ‘Oh.’
‘What?’
‘Well.’ I indicated the sign, newly painted and erected, still with the chains attached which had been used to lift it into position. ‘Why the name?’
‘Sampsons? What’s wrong with that?’
‘I thought it’d be called after you.’
Luke laughed. ‘If I put up an enormous sign saying Fry’s, I’d be inundated with people wanting to buy chips. Sampsons is the name of the place in Boston. We decided to keep it for this one, too. Sort of a tradition, I suppose.’
‘Oh, I see.’ I shivered to myself. The night was chilly under clear skies. Although it wasn’t late, the streets were already empty of cars and this hulk of a building was atmospherically scary. I felt better for having seen it at last. Concrete proof, ha ha, of how my money was being spent. Enough proof to shut Katie and Jazz up anyway. Enough to stop them moaning on about how much investment, physical, emotional and financial, I was putting into my relationship with Luke. In reality they were just pissed off that our drinking sessions had dwindled and I hadn’t rehearsed with the band for weeks. Katie was also annoyed that I’d turned down an invitation to spend this evening at her place whilst Dan was out of town, so that I could go and stand around outside what she called ‘a garage’.
Luke put his arm around me and started leading me back towards the car. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here. I told you there was nothing to see.’
‘Ah, but now I’ve seen for myself.’ I smiled up at him. He was extraordinarily good-looking tonight. A new razored haircut gave him an edge of bad-boy glamour, the stubbled I-don’t-careness mitigated by a soft blue sweater which made his eyes look purple. I hoped he’d wear blue for the wedding.
‘Your brother’s got one of those old allotments, hasn’t he?’ The Morgan roared away from the pavement and out into the curiously traffic-free street. ‘Out along Sowerby Road?’
‘Yes. He wanders down there most days with his pencil and sketchbook. Bless.’
‘Does he know that they’re up for sale as building land?’ My eyes went news-to-me wide. ‘Yeah, apparently there’s only a couple still in use, so the council’s selling them off. Worth a bit, I should think.’
‘I’ll mention it to Flint.’
‘Good idea. He might be able to drive the price up.’
‘I don’t think Flint will be bothered about that, but he might get worked up about losing his allotment.’
We’d reached my front door, and the Morgan was idling throatily. I could feel the eyes of my siblings boring through the brickwork. Upstairs, a curtain twitched. ‘Well, thanks then, Luke. See you tomorrow?’
‘Of course.’
I think Luke was a bit disconcerted by the abrupt way I pecked him on the cheek before I got out of the car, but I couldn’t bear the thought of one of our more involved kisses being witnessed. Particularly by Ash, who would then spend the next ten days criticising my technique. To mitigate any annoyance, I stood and waved until Luke was out of sight at the road junction, before I turned to put my key in the front door. It opened before I had the chance.
‘Good. Glad you’re back.’ Flint stood inside, like the father of a post-curfew teenager.
‘Why? What have I done now?’ As I stepped over the threshold, I became aware that both Bree and Ash were sitting on the living room couch.
‘You might want to sit down,’ Flint went on.
I sat beside Bree, who flashed me a completely unreadable look.
‘Right. I’ve asked the others, now I’ll ask you. Do you know anything’ — a dramatic pause — ‘aboutthis?’
An outstretched hand proved to contain a crumpled-up ball of paper which had obviously been flattened out and screwed up again. The original ‘you can’t have everything you want’ letter.
‘Oh.’
‘Fuck.’ Ash turned to me. ‘Is it me or did it just get allAmityville Horrorin here?’
I explained about receiving the letters, about how I’d been shocked and hurt at first, but since nothing seemed to come of it, and the letters had stopped arriving a few days ago, I’d decided the whole thing had been a mistake.
‘Thing is, Will,’ Flint said awkwardly, ‘the lettersdidn’tstop coming. I’ve had a couple. So has Ash.’
‘I picked one up this morning,’ Bree added, helpfully.
‘We all thought we were the one they were aimed at, you see.’
