Chapter Fifteen

I didn’t tell Luke about the kiss. Hell, I didn’t even tell Katie. Although I did give Katie and Jazz a highly comically embellished version of events regarding the goat and a hush-hush outline of my plan to buy the white house once my money came through. The kiss was too casual to mention and might have given rise to some awkward questioning, so I simply pretended it hadn’t happened and everything carried on as before. Luke and I continued to date, Flint continued to plague me with wafting around the house and laying maps on every flat surface and Ash continued not to return from Europe.

Eventually the lack of forward motion got to me.

‘Do you think we should set a date for the wedding?’ I asked Luke.

‘If you like. I thought we were going to wait until the flat was all okay first. But, no, if you want to get the date sorted, that’s cool.’

We were sitting beside a moorland stream. I was dabbling my feet in the water while Luke watched. He’d taken his shirt off and the sun outlined his muscles, giving his skin a tawny glow. He looked like a young lion with a decidedly predatory gleam in his eye.

‘It’s not that I’m bothered, as such, just, people are asking. And the sooner we have a target date the easier it will be to organise.’ That’s what it said in the latest edition of Bride anyway. It was advice of the month.

Luke shrugged. ‘You do know that I need to get the business up and running properly, don’t you? Before we kick off the married thing?’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘And that the flat is taking time.’

I knew that, too. Luke was dealing with all the paperwork and there were, apparently, glitches in the purchase because it was a new building. I wasn’t too worried, still hugging the potential of Cal’s house to myself. The flat would be an ideal base for us in town, but the white house was where I wanted to live.

‘So, you want to settle on a date. That’s fine with me. It just might have to be a fairly long engagement, until things are definite.’ Luke took an apple from the basket of food I’d brought and bit into it firmly. I pretended not to notice the lascivious way he licked the juice from his fingers while looking at me.

‘Twenty-first of October,’ I said spontaneously.

‘Aw, are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a summer wedding? All outdoorsy, you like that sort of thing, don’t you? We could have it on the lawn somewhere.’

‘It’s nearly June now. There isn’t really time.’

‘I meant next summer.’

‘Oh.’ Now, why on earth should that disappoint me? I wanted the whole shebang, the big dress, the big party, hopefully a hen weekend somewhere insalubrious. It was traditional, wasn’t it? When he’d said a long engagement, I’d been thinking three months. A year would be much better, give me ages to plan, to go through all the brochures, to pick just the right dress and slim into it. I knew he wanted to marry me, so why did I need to hurry things? ‘All right, next summer. Twenty-first of June. We can have a solstice wedding.’

‘Very New-Agey.’ Luke threw the apple core into the stream. ‘Now, come over here and show me what other New Age tricks you’ve got.’

As we made love, I found my mind wandering. The twenty-first of June. Well, by then I’d have enough cash to make sure things went with a bang. I shivered underneath Luke, who mistook my anticipation of money for sexual frenzy and redoubled his efforts to drive me deeper into the soft peat beneath us.

Afterwards he sat up, panting, and flicked his hair from his eyes. ‘Bloody hellfire, woman, you are fantastic in the sack, do you know that?’

Gosh. ‘Am I?’

‘Oh, wow, yeah. It’s so great to have someone who throws herself into it, not always fussing and nagging. Sorry. Don’t mean to compare you with past girlfriends, but …’ He gave a whistle. ‘Yeah. You’re hot.’

‘I’m hot,’ I announced to Katie and Jazz when we met up the following evening. ‘It’s official.’

‘Thought I could smell something,’ Jazz said into his pint.

‘Of course you are.’ Katie handed me my drink. ‘Never doubted it for a second.’

‘And I’ve got something to show you. Got it today.’

‘Syphilis?’

‘Jazz! No, look.’ Slowly, tauntingly, from my pocket I withdrew the shiny silver object that Luke had driven over to give me that afternoon. ‘It’s the key to our new flat. And anyway, can you show someone syphilis? Isn’t it sort of invisible?’

‘Until your face falls off.’ Jazz took the key and turned it over on his hand, like an insect. ‘So. When are you moving in? You and Wonder Boy?’

‘Not for a bit. I’m really hoping that this money from Ganda’s invention will turn up soon, so that I can get the finances sorted out for the other house and then spend the rest on the flat and the wedding.’

‘Is Luke not paying for any of this?’ Katie asked carefully. I was a bit sensitive to suggestions that Luke’s and my financial situation might be a little lopsided.

‘Well, yes, obviously. He’s put the deposit down on the flat and he’ll be contributing to the wedding. The house of Cal’s, that’s private, that’s mine.’

‘I thought you already gave him some more money for the deposit on the flat.’ Jazz was still turning the key over and over. ‘And for his business.’

‘Yes, I did. It was only another sixteen thousand, we had to get the deposit down before someone else did. But, come on, what is this? Luke and I will sort it all out between us. At the moment I’m the one with the big cash income and he’s still setting up the business, but in the future’ – like when I’ve stopped work to have babies and to wander through orchards in flowery dresses – ‘then he’ll be the one with the money. Things work out, Jazz, in relationships. Not that you’d know, of course.’

There was a communal in-suck of breath. ‘Bit near the mark there, Wills,’ Katie said.

‘How come my love life is fair game for the two of you and yet I’m not even allowed to mention Jazz’s total lack of success with anything female. Hell, even the cat left him after a week.’ I rounded on Jazz, jumping to my feet and catching my knees on the underside of the table so that drinks slopped about all over the surface.

‘We worry about you. Jazz is quite capable of looking after himself.’

‘And by implication I’m not?’

‘The difference between us is that I know what I want.’ Jazz mopped at his spilt beer with the sleeve of his jacket.

‘Oh, great. So now I’m incapable of looking after myself and indecisive?’ I gathered my things together. ‘Thanks very much, guys.’

Katie caught my arm. ‘Will, sit down. We’re not having a go at you, we’re just telling as we see it. From our perspective things seem to have moved incredibly quickly and, yeah, it’s a fantastic coincidence that you met Luke again, and it’s wonderful that you’ve come into this money and everything, but we want you to be sure that you’re doing the right thing.’

‘Bullshit. You think he’s after my money. Look, how many times do I have to point out that Luke didn’t know I had any money when we met. Hell, I didn’t know I had any money. Luke isn’t like that anyway. He’s sweet and he loves me and we’re going to get married and we’ve set a date and I was going to tell you, but now I’m not even sure that I’m going to invite either of you because you’re horrible to me and I’m going.’ The three of us eyeballed each other for a moment, or at least Katie and I eyeballed. Jazz raised his eyes ceilingward and mouthed ‘bloody women’, then we all burst out laughing.

‘You can’t not invite me,’ Katie said. ‘I have to be the one in the pictures who makes you look all thin and gorgeous.’

‘What, you mean like I was at your wedding?’

‘Yep. I have to wear something so bright that it strobes, and have a fat face with a horrid headpiece which makes me look like a hamster in a wig. ’S obligatory.’

Jazz grinned. ‘And I have to look sensationally shaggable so your new husband gets all jealous and punches me.’

‘Gosh.’

‘Yeah. He has to break my nose or it’s not a proper wedding, apparently.’

‘Ooh, ooh!’ Katie bounced and squeaked. ‘And I have to be caught in a compromising position with the best man. So if you could steer Luke to pick someone who’s good-looking, or at least doesn’t smell, I’ll be grateful.’

‘I didn’t get caught in a compromising position at your wedding.’

‘No, but you did get my grandma stuck in the toilet. That counts.’

‘Oh, yes.’ I collected my bag and jacket. ‘I’m glad we got that sorted out. Now I really am off home. Luke and I are going to Cornwall this weekend and I want to pack.’

It was a tiny fib, not even that, more a fibbette. I did want to get home and pack, but first I wanted to go and investigate the new flat. The key shone virgin in the evening sunshine as I fitted it into the lock and pushed the door open. Inside, the late light sliced in over the balcony and fell just so on the spot where I planned to put the intended Italian leather sofa. Mocha, a nice practical colour I could liven up with throws. I wandered around the rooms, much as an artist might walk around a blank canvas – potentially, an iron-framed bedstead just here and some light gauzy curtains over these windows. Then I went out to stand on the balcony to watch the last of the natural light drain from the sky. Luke was right. It was a fantastically central, wonderfully appointed, fabulous investment. It just didn’t feel as though it would ever be my home.

As I walked back across the river, I felt a familiar sense of potential hanging over my head. This usually meant the return of my twin – I’ve explained to you already, haven’t I, that Ash and I have the twin-unspoken-communication thing, although neither of us wants it – and, sure enough, there was the red Yamaha slouched in the front garden as though it had never been away. Proving, however, that away had very much been the case, was the rucksack left pointedly by the washing machine. One undone strap gave us a view of grey lycra, like an overweight and grubby stripper flashing her underwear. Farther into the house, Ash was sitting on the kitchen table with his feet on a chair, holding forth to Flint on the beauty of Slovakian architecture, smoking a joint and spinning a beer bottle top in a saucer.

‘How long have you been back?’

‘Nice to see you, too.’

‘Sorry. Hello, brother dear. How was your trip and how fucking long have you been back?’

‘That’s better. Just since this morning. Flint tells me you’re going away? With a man? God, I can’t leave you alone for a moment, can I? Who is he, then? Anyone I know?’ He looked at me through a cloud of blue smoke, eyes narrowed, doing Lauren Bacall for all he was worth.

‘No. His name’s Luke.’ This was as much information as Flint had and I didn’t feel up to giving them any more. ‘Why did you tell me Cal was gay?’

‘And who the hell’s he?’ Flint asked.

‘Friend of Ash’s. You met him a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Oh, yes. Dark guy, awful clothes, ate all the bread and I had to run up to Morrisons in my pyjamas.’

‘That’s him.’

‘I didn’t tell you he was gay.’ But I could always tell when Ash was toying with the truth. He sort of blushed, although not completely. The tips of his ears went pink and he developed a nervous swallow. He was doing it now.

‘You let me think it. You told me you were living with him.’

‘All right, all right, but look’ – Ash lowered his voice – ‘not here. Come on.’ Flicking both the joint and the bottle top back into the saucer, he slithered off the table and headed for the stairs. I followed, and we ended up in his old room, sitting on the bed staring at a poster of David Boreanaz as Angel, a formative influence on Ash throughout his youth, peeling off one purple wall. It was just like the old days. ‘I didn’t want Flint to know,’ Ash explained, draping himself across the bed. ‘He already thinks I’m a complete wanker.’

I shrugged and began picking at the Blu-Tack remnants on the wall beside the bed, where, until fairly recently, Robbie Williams had resided. ‘At the moment I’m not far behind him,’ I said. ‘I felt a complete idiot when I found out Cal was straight.’ Carefully not mentioning the definitive kiss.

‘Okay.’ Ash took a deep breath. ‘Here it goes. I met Cal—’

‘Three years ago when you were both in therapy, yeah, I know.’

Ash bounced a bit and took a sudden interest in a split in the laminate on his bedside table. ‘Okay, what else do you know?’ There was a cautious note to his voice.

‘Cal told me why you were there.’ I looked at my twin properly now. He’d always just been Ash to me, just my brother, but now I could see the lines forming alongside his eyes, the raise of stubble along his chin. He was a person. A person who hurt. ‘I’m sorry you felt all left out and everything, Ash.’

A dismissive shrug. ‘Not your fault. Iain and Sophie’s, if anyone. All that “be who you are, be free” bullshit, when they’d already put us in their little niches.’

‘I don’t think they did it deliberately.’

Another shrug. ‘So, when you were on about meeting people, I thought, hey, Will and Cal are both a couple of weirdos, they might get on, so I asked him if he’d like to meet you.’

I rolled the Blu-Tack between my fingers. ‘And what did he say to that?’

‘He said, “no way, man, she’s a weirdo.”’ Ash laughed and swung himself up to sit on the bed. ‘But I took you over anyway. Has he told you why he was in therapy?’

The Blu-Tack was sticky now, warm and pliable under my fingers. I pinched it into shape. ‘He just said he was mad.’

‘Oh. Okay. It’ll come, I guess. Look, I hold my hands up to wishing he wasn’t straight, I mean, there were a couple of times when I thought my gaydar might be on the blink, but it was all wishful thinking on my part. It’s not fair, and it’s not right, but he’s definitely hetero.’ Ash had his back against the headboard now, and was running his finger over the cracked laminate. ‘So, yeah, bit jealous. You get to be the responsible one, and you get the hot boys, what the fuck has a guy got to do round here?’ But he was laughing. There was a tiny hint of a bitter edge to his laughter, but he seemed genuine. ‘You bitch.’ Ash got up off the bed. ‘So, you and Cal?’

‘No. Like I said, I’m going out with Luke. Cal, he’s a friend. Kind of. He’s bloody odd though, isn’t he?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Ash and I gave each other a slightly ashamed smile. ‘Fucking sex-on-legs though. Wasted on girls.’ He stretched himself out in the doorway. ‘Right. I’m off out.’

‘Slapper.’

‘Hey, I could be digging old ladies’ gardens, all you know.’

‘That’s what you call it now, is it? Well, don’t forget to put your Marigolds on before you plant anything.’

‘I never forget.’ Ash began to make his exit, but turned back. ‘Oh. FYI.’

‘Mmmm?’

‘Cal. Be gentle with him, guy’s had a rough time.’

‘I told you, we’re just friends.’

Ash just tapped the side of his nose and winked, then spiral-jumped down the stairs. Seconds later I heard the bike engine fire up, a few moments of door-slamming as he came in and out, fetching helmets and gear, then the punctuating roar of the 750cc engine being kept, more or less, to the speed limit as far as the end of the road. I went to my own room to start packing, hoping that my eyebrows would begin to come down to their normal level before I had to leave for Cornwall.