Page 10 of The Price of Love
I heard him snort as I went upstairs. ‘Yeah! You’d freeze your howdy-doody off in that skirt and I’ll be fucked if someone sees me with a girl on the back of the bike. They’ll think I’ve gone straight, and whoops goes my reputation up the PVC Emporium.’
Since Ash had been as gay as a neon jelly baby all his life, this was highly unlikely to be the case. I wrestled myself into a set of his old leathers, popped my helmet out of its box (which always, satisfyingly, reminded me of squeezing a blackhead) and galumphed down the stairs. Ash has skinnier legs than me, which means I can’t bend my knees in his trousers and have to walk like I’ve wet myself. Ash stared.
‘Fuck off, you’ve lost weight, bitch.’
‘You think?’ I did a smug twirl. Going out with Luke was obviously good for me. Good as it might be, I didn’t yet feel I could unveil him as a full boyfriend to Ash (who would only ask, with painful accuracy, why the hell he wasn’t taking me out on a Friday night if he was such a catch) or Bree (who had merely been told that I was bringing a friend to lunch tomorrow). Fate was, in my experience, not something to be tempted. Rather like Luke then, I thought sourly.
‘You’ll be prettier than me soon.’
‘Shutup, Ash. Honestly, if you weren’t my brother.’
‘You’d be happy, I know.’
Ash and I get on a whole lot better when no one else is there. It’s like we don’t have to compete for attention any more. We’re the classic case of the observer changing the thing observed.
‘Piss off and start the bike.’ I checked my phone to make sure Luke hadn’t had a change of heart and decided to call me after all. But he hadn’t, and so I mounted up behind Ash and wound my arms around his ribcage. So it wasn’t quite how I’d envisaged spending Friday night, but right now it beat the alternatives.
Chapter Six
It was a tiny, hidden valley in the depths of the moors. Great grey drifts of heather heaped themselves like breaking seas at the base of dry stone walls. The walls combed up the sides of the valley, dividing it into small squares, each of which held about half a dozen huddled sheep.
‘Come on.’ Ash propped the bike up on its stand and began to lead the way down a tiny lane between two of the walls, carefully stepping over the scatterings of sheep dung.
‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ll see.’
Down the trackway we filed, it being too narrow to walk side-by-side. I followed Ash gloomily, wondering exactly what I’d let myself in for. The whole place had an ominous air. Trees overhung the path, making it spookily dark, although I couldn’t imagine any ghost being desperate enough to hang around here. Except possibly the earthbound spirit of some recalcitrant farm animal.
‘Ash?’
‘Shh. Nearly there.’
‘Oh. Wow.’ The way suddenly widened, throwing up the view of a small whitewashed house perched on the bank of a stream which was tickling its unassuming way between the green rise of the hills. Meadows dotted with early white flowers surrounded the house and a goat was grazing, tied to an apple tree outside a shed.
‘Who the hell are we visiting? Heidi?’
‘Cute, isn’t it? Come on.’ Ash grabbed my hand and we ran down across the fields towards the dinky dwelling, me suppressing a desire to yodel. Around the back we raced, through a little cobbled yard, and on, through a door standing open, into the house itself.
It was hideously dark in contrast to the daylight outside and I stopped dead. ‘It smells funny.’
‘Yeah,’ said a voice I didn’t recognise. ‘What do you reckon?’
I sniffed. ‘Mushrooms?’
‘Dry rot,’ the voice said glumly. ‘Or possibly wet rot. Some kind of fungal thing. Knowing my luck the place will probably turn out to have athlete’s foot as well.’
‘Willow. This is Cal.’ Ash moved away so that a little more light filtered in through the doorway.
There was a strange note in his voice that I didn’t recognise. Pride and a touch of warning, plus a warmth that was usually lacking in my twin. Oh God, was Ash in love?
‘Hi, Cal.’ Outside, the sunset suddenly broke through the clouds and bounced off the internal whitewash, revealing the owner of the glum voice in a halo of reflected light. I widened my eyes.
‘Hello, Willow.’
Certainly a very definite step up from Ash’s usual muscle-bound types, I thought. The initial impression was of eyes — huge, brown eyes in a pale face, unshaven and a bit hollowed around the cheeks. The second impression — as he moved forward to shake my hand — was ‘phwoar’. He had the looks of a poet who’s spent too long staring into the abyss; long dark hair and lines of stress around the mouth. Luckily, as ever when meeting my brother’s boyfriends, I had no inclination to vomit on him. Dunno why, but something inside tells me that, however gorgeous, it’s not for me and my stomach remains steady. ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’
‘It could be. Would you like a tour?’
