Chapter Nineteen

‘And it would make the most sensational weekend place.’ I was half-full of informative animation, and half-full of vodka and Red Bull. ‘You could take clients up there. Have corporate events, dinner parties, that sort of thing.’ Sell it to him, Willow.

‘No harm in having a look, I suppose.’

That had been easier than I’d expected. ‘I’ll have more than enough money to buy it in my own right, so you don’t need to have anything to do with it if you don’t want to. I thought I could start up a business, maybe growing herbs or something. In the meantime, maybe I could let it out to Bree. She’s selling the rectory, and she’s going to need somewhere for her and the baby.’ I didn’t say that, if this was the case, I’d have to get a move on. Bree had woken up today swearing she was having contractions, but by lunchtime she’d decided it had probably been a dodgy prawn sandwich.

‘Steady on, Willow.’ Luke laughed. ‘If we buy anything, and we really should do it jointly, both names on the deeds, you know, for the insurance? So it will have to be suitable for both of us.’

‘There’re some barns around the back. You could keep cars there.’

‘And land, you said? How would it be for planning permission?’

‘You’ll see. We’re nearly there. Pull in over here, in this lay-by.’ I was a bit shocked by Luke’s immediate desire to change everything, but then he hadn’t had time to fall in love with the place as it stood yet.

‘There’s no access? Willow, how could you run a business with no road access?’

‘It can be sorted. Come on, down here.’

As we approached the end of the narrow lane, I covered Luke’s eyes with my hand. ‘You can look in a minute.’ And led him by the wrist until we arrived at the top of the meadow. ‘Now look.’ I uncovered Luke’s eyes and waited, heart pounding, for his verdict.

‘It’s very pretty.’

Was that all he could say? The sun and clouds were playing chase me across the fields, giving rise to an interesting stipple effect of light and shade. The breeze softly wafted the smell of flowers across to us and there was no noise, apart from the cry of a sheep. It really couldn’t be any more bucolic if it had the Wurzels in it.

‘Those are the barns I told you about.’

‘Very nice.’ Luke turned to me earnestly. ‘Actually, Willow, I think you might be on to something here. The potential is just …’ A wide-armed gesture said it all. ‘It really is fabulously sited. Look at the little river there.’ We walked towards the house. Cal was in the yard watching us approach. ‘Oh my God, these are genuine cruck-framed buildings. How old is this place? It’s fantastic!’

I introduced Cal to Luke. There was a moment of stiff-legged confrontation as they shook hands, then Luke smiled. ‘I really like your place, Cal. Fantastic opportunities here, yeah? Be worth a fortune to a developer. Can I look round?’

‘Help yourself. I’ll borrow Will to give me a hand with the goat.’ Limping, in what I considered to be an excessive fashion, Cal led the way out of the yard and down the lane which led up onto the hill. ‘He seems all right.’

I looked at Cal’s expression, because his tone had had the tiniest sting in it. It was bland and completely unreadable. ‘He is. He’s so good for me, Cal. I never thought I’d meet anyone who’d actually want to marry me, you know? I’m not the easiest person to be around. Not just with the, well, you know, but, with my family and everything. I kind of got used to being me-ish, I suppose.’

We reached Winnie’s hideout on the hillside. Cal found the going increasingly difficult because the ground was uneven, pockmarked with hoof-holes and rabbit dugouts, like a micro-scale battlefield. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you.’ Cal sounded angry. ‘I don’t know why you think there is.’

‘I puke on blokes.’

‘Your system doesn’t cope well with emotional overload, that’s all. It’s not something so abnormal, so perverted that you have to marry the first man who asks.’

‘I’m thirty-two, Cal,’ I said slowly, wanting the words to sink in. ‘I know that’s not old in men-years, but in terms of woman-time it’s pretty nearly over the edge into Botox and suck-it-all-in underwear.’

‘You don’t have to get married, though, do you?’

‘Luke wants to. He says it’s more sensible to be married than just living together. Gives him “gravitas” as a businessman, and there’s more security for both of us.’

‘And you? What do you want, Willow Cayton? Hmmm?’

Banks burst. ‘I want to live here and have babies that grow up being able to ride before they can walk, and milk cows and weave, and know what plants they can eat and what they can’t. I want to grow things and make perfume and medicines out of them, and cheese with plants in and candles with dried flowers and … stuff.’

‘Let me guess, The Good Life?’

‘Maybe. Maybe I’m just a hippy who missed the boat.’ By now Winnie had got fed up with eyeballing us from a quarter of a mile away and was sidling up, curiously.

‘You’ve got a very pastoral image of life, haven’t you?’

‘I know the realities.’ I felt somehow that I was being got-at.

‘And Luke? Does he know? Does he have any idea what it’s like to have to get up at four to milk the cow, fight to get the Aga lit, chip the ice off the water trough before work, bring animals in, fetch animals out, all up to your thighs in mud? Nothing ever clean, nothing ever dry, everything full of bits of hay and mouse shit in the larder? Because that is winter up here. I know and I love it. Will you? Will he?’

‘I thought you only spent your summer holidays here?’

Cal sat down like a folding deckchair, dropped his head forward and let his hair hide his face. Winnie was fascinated. ‘Yeah. I lied about that,’ he said as though challenging me to say anything. ‘I grew up here. My great-aunt adopted me when I was five, when …’ Shaky territory, obviously, because he suddenly pushed his hair back and grinned up at me. ‘If you reach out now, you can grab her collar.’

Without looking, I stretched my hand sideways and closed it around the leather belt. Winnie curled her lip in contempt and took off at a trot. Fortunately our joint inertia forced us gradually to the bottom of the hillside until we reached the lane. Winnie was puffing at the exertion of dragging me, size ten of pure muscle and thirty years of chocolate, and I was glad that I’d kept my footing. I was sure she’d deliberately headed through every cowpat and gorse bush she could see. Farther up the slope I could see Cal edging his way down, using his stick as a brake, anchor and occasional flail on the thistle-strewn pasture. It seemed somehow demeaning to watch so, taking advantage of Winnie’s momentary breathlessness, I hauled on her collar until she moved into the gateway to the paddock, then wrestled the gate open and shoved her through. My previous experience with ponies had taught me that once they’d found an escape route, they’d be out every chance they got, until the escape hatch was firmly closed with wire, preferably in Winnie’s case, electric and running off the mains.

‘What did she do, jump?’ I asked, completing my circuit of the small field to find Cal leaning on the gate, trying to look as though he wasn’t gasping for breath. ‘I can’t find a hole anywhere big enough for her to have got through. Although I wouldn’t put it past her to have tunnelled.’

‘She got out through the gate.’

I looked disbelievingly at the solid, five-bar gate he was resting against. It was a good five-foot tall, conventionally built with no gaps big enough for a solidly constructed Toggenburg to have squeezed through. ‘What, with a crowbar?’

‘No.’ Cal pulled open the gate, standing aside. Winnie, on the other side of the field, raised her head and I barely managed to drag the gate shut before she hit it at a dead run.

‘You let her out? Why?’

‘Firstly because she’s a total cow and I hoped the local foxes would form some sort of association to bring her down, and secondly, would you have come, otherwise?’

‘What? Yes, of course I would!’

‘If you say so. Shall we go back? Your other half will be wondering what we’re up to.’

We wandered slowly through the yard and into the house, to find that Luke was up in the loft, tapping at timbers with a Swiss army knife and muttering about woodworm. He barely noticed me appear in the hatchway and disappear just as quickly.

‘He’s happy,’ I reported. ‘Can I borrow your mobile? I want to ring home to check that my sister hasn’t popped her infant out without due regard for the seventy-eight-hour labour she’s been warning us she’s got in store. Mind you, if she had, I think Ash’s hysterical shrieking would have been audible from here.’

‘I didn’t bring my mobile. There’s no signal in the valley.’ Cal put the kettle on the Aga plate to boil and leaned his back against the stove. ‘Where’s yours?’

‘Flint broke it.’

‘Oh. Can’t you use …’ A gesture towards the ceiling.

‘I never use his phone. Anyway, you said there’s no signal.’

‘If you walk up to the road, you can get two bars, apparently. I’ve got satellite broadband out in the barn, if it helps.’

We were both trying to avoid looking at Luke’s jacket (pure wool, impeccably tailored) hanging on the back of one of the spindle-legged chairs.

‘I could email, but it might take ages for anyone to pick up.’ Another sliding glance. Cal grinned.

‘Sod it, no one’s going to die if you borrow it for one quick call, are they?’

The tiny sliver of phone was tucked into an inside pocket, with Luke’s credit card. It felt warm, the jacket smelled of him. I stroked the sleeves back into place as I removed the mobile, feeling comforted by the softness under my fingers.

‘Come on. I’ll come with you up the hill. He’s going to be ages yet. What was he doing, exactly?’

‘Prodding the beams.’

‘He’s not one of these mild-mannered sales assistant by day, super surveyor by night types, is he? What’s wrong with the beams?’

‘Just woodworm, I think. They look sound enough.’

Cal muttered something and hauled away up across the meadow, outdistancing me. ‘What?’ I asked, catching up.

‘I said, I’ve never been up there. Can’t. Ladders, d’you see.’

‘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 it what you like. That’s me.’ His voice was so bitter that I was surprised the words didn’t drop, blackened, to the ground. ‘A spastic.’

‘Cal.’

‘Go up to the cars. There’ll be a signal there.’ Cal stopped walking and turned around, looking out over the house.

‘Cal …’

‘Just go.’

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 you are 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.

‘What are you on about?’

‘Look at his texts.’

‘Don’t be bloody daft! That’s spying! Why should I want to do that? I trust Luke, absolutely.’

‘If you trust him, then there won’t be anything strange, will there?’ Cal nodded at the phone. It had gone to screen, which was a picture of a sports car.

‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s wrong.’

‘Okay, you trust him, that’s good.’ Cal half-turned away. ‘Just checking. I mean, he seems a bit … I dunno. Edgy? And I’m not talking about that bloody haircut either.’

The screen had gone black now. I found I was staring at its blankness, and my reflection made me look uncertain. ‘I …’ I began, and then there was a buzz, and the screen lit up with the first lines of an incoming message.

From: Dee-Dee.

Can’t wait to see you later! We could go for a walk on the beach! Sorry about last night, I was and that was all that displayed. I felt the world stop spinning, judder to a halt beneath me and flex. ‘Can’t wait to see you later,’ I repeated, like an idiot. The earth under me was still holding its breath, unsure how to start moving again. I held on to the Micra for support, my heart booming in my ears, a sour taste beginning in my mouth. What could … I mean, who would … he … Luke …

‘Has something happened?’ His voice made me jump. Cal held out a hand for the phone. ‘Can I see?’

Part of me wanted to pretend it was nothing. To protect Luke, in some strange way, from Cal, from Cal’s opinion, but I needed another perspective on this and, as my mouth dried, I handed the phone over from nerveless fingers.

Cal looked at the screen. He might have checked the messages box too, I didn’t notice, I just watched the way his long fingers moved about on the phone, as though playing an instrument he was adept on. He looked up eventually and said, ‘Shit.’

The shock was beginning to fade, passing over me to be replaced by rationalism. ‘It’s nothing incriminating though, is it? I mean, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, obviously. Dee-Dee could be a business colleague, Luke might have had a meeting yesterday.’

‘The sort of business meeting where they plan going walking on the beach together?’

I snatched the phone away, shoving it into my pocket. ‘Yes, well, we don’t know anything. It could be, you know, like those breakfast meetings, only a walking meeting.’

‘On the beach.’

I shrugged. The cold grip of shock was beginning to let go of my insides, but there was a zombie-kiss of horror making my lips tingle. My brain refused to think.

Cal opened the Micra and pushed me into the passenger seat, where I sat and shivered. He didn’t say anything, for which I was grateful, but stood outside the car looking over its roof towards the house, a lost expression on his face. I tried not to think of the condom behind me. The sun was beginning to sink behind the hills, the sky turning a chalky red, the clouds as pink as conjunctivitis and away to the east I could see night boiling up, insinuating its way in under the daylight. Cal swung into the driving seat beside me and rested his arms on the wheel.

‘Right. Bedtime story, to take your mind off things,’ he said. ‘Once upon a time, there was a little boy – that’s me, by the way – whose parents had waited a long, long time to have him. And then, when he was born, he arrived much too early and had to spend a long time in hospital, in a special cot. His parents didn’t mind. Because they’d waited such a time for him to arrive, they were happy simply to have him. Then he grew up, and he wasn’t the lovely, perfect child that they’d thought. Instead he was weak and ungainly and clumsy and couldn’t walk properly or run at all. And these parents said “we don’t want a little boy who isn’t perfect”, so they gave him away. Gave him to an old lady, who loved him, and did her best for him, but who wasn’t his mother or father. That little boy grew up to be someone who didn’t trust the perfect people and kept out of their way, and only mixed with his own kind, the damaged and the weak. But then, do you know what? This boy grew into a man who realised that nobody was perfect. Oh, some of them pretended to be, and they were the worst ones. The ones that looked like they’d been sent from heaven, all shiny and bright and lovely, because underneath they were rotten and black, the sort of people who’d lie and cheat and steal and … anyway. My point, if I’ve got one, is that, well, nobody’s perfect. Not really. We’re the lucky ones, because our imperfections are there for everyone to see. I can’t walk straight and you can’t keep your lunch in place. Apart from that, we’re perfect. You’re perfect. And that Luke, he doesn’t deserve you.’

‘That’s … what happened to you, it was … wrong!’ Cal’s story had distracted me, but the feelings were a paper-thickness away.

‘I know. Took a lot of therapy for me to deal with it, to come to terms with the fact that my parents weren’t perfect. Hadn’t been perfect. That they’d had no right to demand perfection of me. I was a child, their child, and they should have faced their responsibilities, not given up on me as though I was an untrainable dog. But they didn’t. End of story. Sorry. I didn’t mean to encroach on your feelings there but I just thought you should know. Me. All of it. Well, most of it, anyway.’

‘Are you saying that Luke isn’t what he appears to be? That he’s too perfect?’

‘Hey, put your own interpretation on it, why don’t you?’ He faced me and gently flicked my nose with a fingertip. ‘You have to make up your own mind here, Willow. These messages, yeah, I agree they aren’t exactly hanging evidence, but there’s somebody out there. You might want to find out who that is, before you let this go any further.’

I picked up the phone from where it lay in my lap. ‘It could be his brother?’

‘Could be. If they take’ – Cal winked – ‘that kind of beach walk together.’

‘Or a friend?’

‘Again, yes.’

I looked down at the phone. The chill of the plastic casing against my hand felt like death. ‘I don’t know what to do, Cal.’

I saw him sigh, saw his shoulders move, but he didn’t make a sound, then he rubbed my arm. ‘I’d say, at a guess, you need to talk to him about this. I can’t help, I can only make suppositions, and that’s really not what you need right now, is it? Are you feeling up to heading back down to the farm yet?’

We walked down to the farm, slowly and without saying anything else. Back at the yard, Luke was waiting for us. ‘Hey, Will, where’ve you been? It’s time we were getting back. Y’know, we’ve both got work in the morning. Are you okay? You look a bit pale.’

‘Just feeling a bit faint,’ Cal rescued me, saving me from having to speak. ‘Look, if you’re in a hurry, I can run Willow back later. We wanted to have a chat about some damp-proofing that needs doing.’ As he spoke he’d gone into the house. By the time we got in, he was digging around in a cupboard clearly standing absolutely nowhere near Luke’s jacket, although one of the sleeves had been slightly disarranged.

I wanted to grab Luke, to reduce the physical and emotional space, wanted to hold him close, so close, to feel his heartbeat and his arms around me, telling me that everything was fine, would be fine, that I was the only person he loved. I wanted to trust him.

From being my gorgeous husband-to-be, dress picked out, bridesmaids selected, he’d become a stranger, with secrets. God, I wanted comfort right now. A hug, that would do – although Luke didn’t hug, didn’t do that kind of closeness. Why did I want it from him now, when I unquestioningly accepted his remoteness? I felt so exposed, as though I wore all my nerves on the outside.

‘I’ll go back with Cal. You go on, Luke, I’ll …’ I swallowed. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

I saw Luke look from me to Cal, then he beckoned me outside into the yard. ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’ he asked, pulling his jacket on. I was pleased, sort of, to see that the phone was back in the right pocket. ‘I mean, can he drive?’

‘Yes, of course. That’s his Micra up on the road.’ I realised I was clipping my words and managed to stretch a fake smile over my lips.

‘Oh right, he’s got one of those specially adapted things, has he? Okay then, if you want to stay here, I’d better go.’

Yeah, I thought, you head ‘home’. ‘Tomorrow then.’ And I ducked my head as he went to kiss me, so the kiss missed my mouth and landed on my forehead.

‘Yeah. I thought we could go over to Leeds, maybe check out some of the clubs?’

‘Sounds great.’ Just go. Please, just go away.

‘Hey, then maybe we could go over to the flat? It seemed to suit you last time.’

I was nearly sick on the spot. I’d opened myself up to this man, given myself completely, done things I would never have done with anyone else. And all the time he’d … ‘Maybe.’ Tight smile, cover the heartbreak.

‘Later, then.’ And with a blown kiss he was on his way up the hill towards the car.

Thank God for night. The dark hid me safely, hunched in against the wall of the barn, as I turned my face to the wooden door and sobbed myself senseless. Cal left me until I’d cried myself to a shell, then came over and stood beside me as I blew my nose repeatedly and mopped my eyes on my sleeves.

‘What happens now?’ he asked.

‘It’s really strange, you know. I can’t think. I feel like my head’s been stuffed.’

‘Living taxidermy. Good hobby for a growing boy.’ A flash of smile, as though he was worried I might burst into tears again at his levity, but I was glad of it. Nothing had changed. I was still the woman Luke wanted.

‘After all, if he did have someone else, someone waiting for him at home, then how come he’s never been the least bit worried about us being seen together? You’d think if he was …’ Come on, say it, Willow. Face the fear, at least to yourself. ‘If he was married or something, he’d be a bit cautious about going out. Anyway why propose? He could have carried on dating me. I wasn’t going to press him for anything more committed.’

Cal gave a sideways shrug. ‘It doesn’t add up, does it?’

I seized on his doubt. ‘No. Exactly. Did he look to you like a man who was being unfaithful?’

‘How would I know? Do they grow a second head or something? All I know is that he doesn’t seem to touch you very often.’ Cal bit his lip. ‘I’m surprised he can keep his hands off you.’

‘We both like our own space, that’s all.’ I took a deep breath. All my insides felt achy from crying. ‘It’s nothing, I’m sure. Maybe someone sent him messages to wind him up.’

‘You need to talk to someone who knows him. Have you met any of his friends or family? Anyone who might be able to put you in the picture?’ Cal leaned companionably beside me against the barn door.

‘No. Not really. I mean, there’s only his dad in Wales. Oh, and his brother James in Boston. But I’ve never met or spoken to either of them. And I don’t think he’s made many friends back in York yet. He’s only been over here for six months, and most of that time he’s spent with me. What are you doing?’

‘Making notes.’ From a pocket Cal had fetched a tiny electronic notepad. ‘What do you know about the brother?’

‘James? Not much. Runs the franchise in Boston, a couple of years older than Luke, that’s about it.’

‘American citizen?’

‘I don’t think so. No, I’m sure not.’

‘Do you know his date of birth?’

‘What? No, of course not. Oh, wait a minute, we were talking about star signs and horoscopes and, yes, Luke is a Gemini and his brother was born two days before Ocean. That’s right, I remember now.’

Cal tapped in the date as I dictated it. ‘Leave it with me. I can probably get a phone number. Then maybe you could call, have a chat. He’ll know if Luke has any particular friends, won’t he?’

Despite the balmy night, I found myself shivering again. ‘I don’t know if he’d tell me anything though.’

Again, the sideways shrug. ‘You’ve got nothing to lose by talking to him.’

I felt the weight in my heart, my stomach. A leaden grey feeling as though my soul was punctured. ‘No, I suppose not.’

‘Although it’s Luke you should be talking to. You know that.’

‘And what do I say? “I was snooping through your phone”?’

‘Whatever you did’ – Cal faced me – ‘he has no right to put doubts in your head.’ He laid a casual hand on my cheek and wiped away a tear. ‘No one has any right to hurt you, Willow.’

His fingers were very warm. I closed my eyes. ‘It might not be what it seems. Maybe I shouldn’t be doubting.’

‘You certainly shouldn’t be suffering. Come on, let me take you home.’ The hand was still resting on my cheek. I leaned into the pressure and felt the ponderous slowing of time, drugged by proximity, as his fingers cupped under my chin and moved my head. ‘Oh Christ. Bad idea, Cal, bad idea,’ he whispered, then our mouths made contact, and that was that.

Moons passed. Ice Ages came and went.

At last, he moved away. Neither of us spoke. There was nothing to say. Together we crossed the moonlit field, picked our way carefully up the muddy pathway and arrived at the car, the only sound our breathing, eerily visible in the chilled air, rising like prayers. I sat in the passenger seat and broke the silence. ‘Cal.’

‘Yeah, I know, I know. It shouldn’t have happened. I took advantage of a bad situation. If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t intentional. I only wanted to make you feel better.’ He started the engine, but wouldn’t meet my eye. ‘I can’t … I wanted to show you that I … that you are worth something. I’m sorry.’

We drove about twenty miles without another word being spoken. Even my stomach was still, whereas normally in this sort of situation it would have been undulating and the lining of my nose would be stinging with acid. Eventually, when we were almost at my door, I said, ‘There really wasn’t anything to apologise for, Cal. It’s okay. I don’t feel “taken advantage of”.’

‘But you were and I should have known better.’ But he still slipped me one of those gorgeous, shy smiles. ‘Won’t happen again. If it does, you have my permission to slap my face and Moulinex my groin, all right?’

‘All right.’ The car pulled up at the kerb, behind Jazz’s Skoda. ‘Thanks for the lift.’ I started to get out. ‘You don’t have to hang around, you know.’

Cal was getting out, too. ‘A gentleman always shows a lady to her door,’ he said, following me up the path. ‘Door, lady – lady, door.’

‘Oh, very funny.’ I turned awkwardly on the step. ‘I’m back now. So. You can, you know, go.’

‘Right. I’m sure everything is going to be fine. Luke, I mean, why would he?’

‘Thank you, Mr Erudite and his amazing Clarity Orchestra, for that thought.’ We stood and stared at the night for a bit. ‘It’s a long drive back, would you like some coffee?’ I looked at him sternly. ‘I really do mean coffee.’

It was only when I’d opened the door and led him through to the kitchen that I put a lot of thoughts together. Cal, the used condom, the kiss. Some poor girl, somewhere, who liked Cal enough to perform some high-level gymnastics on the shelf-like Micra seat with him, was walking about unaware whilst he was snogging me against a barn wall.

The kitchen was empty. I boiled the kettle and nearly slammed the mug of coffee down in front of Cal. ‘So, what’s your girlfriend’s name?’ I asked, trying for nonchalance, but only getting as far as shrill.

‘Um. Jessica?’

‘Don’t you know?’

‘Sorry, I thought I was being Luke there. Thought maybe you were rehearsing what you’d say when you saw him next?’

‘No. I meant your girlfriend.’

‘I don’t have one. There was somebody a while back, couple of years now, but she … she took off with someone else.’

‘I think,’ I hissed, between gritted teeth, ‘that is a lie, Cal.’

His face blanked. It was as though somebody had taken a sponge and wiped every trace of emotion away from the inside, except the expression in his eyes. Hurt, and trying to hide.

Today couldn’t get any worse, could it?

The kitchen door flew open and Flint shot in as though he’d been shoved from behind.

‘Oh, bloody hell, Will! Bree’s doubled over on the living room floor, we can’t move her and she says her waters have gone.’

Cal was already out of his chair, but I was panic-propelled, and made it to the living room while he was still circumventing the dresser. ‘Bree?’

Sure enough, there she was, bump pressed into an accommodating beanbag chair, rocking gently and moaning. ‘Will? My bag is upstairs, my records are all in there, we need … oooooooooh … we need to get to the hospital.’

Jazz looked at me over her head. ‘She was carrying on about it being a false alarm until a second ago.’ I looked at where he and Flint were trying to avoid looking, a big wet patch on the carpet, half the beanbag, and Bree’s shoes.

‘I just thought she’d pissed herself.’ Ash was on the other side of the room, mobile to his ear.

‘Any luck with the hospital?’ Flint asked.

‘Still engaged.’

‘We have to go.’ I hardly dared to look at Cal. I’d just accused him of being as bad as we suspected Luke of being and now I needed his help. ‘Cal can drive one car. I’ll go in the back with Bree. Jazz can bring the boys in his car.’

‘Ooooooooooooooooaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggghhhhh!’

‘And hurry!’

Everyone was electrified. Flint, Ash and Jazz got into the Skoda, and I helped Bree to her feet, despite her protests that she couldn’t stand.

‘You wanted an active birth, girl.’ I hauled on her arm until she rested her entire bodyweight against me. ‘Looks like you’ve got one.’

‘This … isn’t active … it’s bloody … torture!’

Cal had a look of concentration on his face that didn’t quite cover up the darker stuff underneath. Even with a pregnant woman clutching at his shoulder there was a splintered quality about him, as though the black-eyed jokily abstracted personality overlaid the real, fractured man underneath, like a metal casing over a broken watch. Gently, tenderly, he helped Bree through the door, her other hand clenched in mine, driving her nails into the back of my wrist, and together we eased her down the steps and into the back of his Micra.

‘Oh God,’ she said in a sudden moment of pain-free clarity. ‘Please don’t let my baby be born in here. Please get me to a nice, clean hospital.’

‘Doing my best.’

So, with Cal in front and Jazz following, we drove slowly and carefully through the streets towards the hospital, both of them with their noses nearly touching the windscreens, shuffling the wheels through their hands and checking the rear-view mirrors every ten seconds, even though the roads were almost deserted. It was like a Mr Magoo procession. On the backseat, still gripping my hand, arm, and anything else she could reach, Bree huffed and puffed and groaned like an airlocked boiler.

‘Every two minutes,’ I said from the back, in a slightly high-pitched voice since Bree had her nails currently embedded in my thigh.

‘What?’ Cal glanced at me in the mirror.

‘Her contractions. Every two minutes.’

‘Is that bad?’

‘Not for the baby, no, but it might be for us. Can you go any faster?’

‘I can do my best.’

We arrived at the hospital and, in something of an anticlimax, Bree was wheeled away out of sight. Ocean joined us, and I and the five men sat along the maternity ward corridor listening to the shrieks. We were lined up like students waiting to see a particularly punitive Head.

A midwife popped her head out of a room farther down. ‘Are you with Breeze?’ she asked, and when we all nodded, went on, ‘So which one of you is the father?’

The lads all exchanged looks.

‘Oh, come on. I need someone in here to hold her hand and give some encouragement. I’m not asking you to deliver the baby.’

‘Um, none of us are the father,’ Flint said hesitantly.

‘What, five men and not one of you the expectant dad?’

There was much shaking of heads among the boys and muttering like a Greek chorus. ‘I’ll do it.’ Jazz eventually stood up. ‘As long as it really is just holding her hand. I don’t want to have to look at anything nasty.’

‘Don’t worry, that’s my job.’ The thankful midwife whisked Jazz in through the doorway. I hoped that Bree was too far gone in labour to protest. Jazz had never even so much as seen her in a bikini.

Cal sidled over to me and held out a coffee. ‘Peace offering. Although I’m not quite sure why, but I got the feeling back at the house that maybe we’d declared hostilities?’

I swallowed a scalding mouthful. ‘I’ve seen the condom.’

‘As far as statements go, I usually prefer “I’ve seen the light”. But, anyway, go on, tell me about this’ – he lowered his voice, conscious of the fact that, in a maternity ward the word condom is probably not to be spoken – ‘item. Where have you seen it and what is it to do with me?’

‘Backseat of your car. Which, unless you’re in the habit of picking up ladies who charge by the hour, puts you firmly in Infidelity Land.’

Cal stared at me. ‘Just a minute. You’re accusing me of shagging some girl, then leaving a used Durex on the backseat of my car? How big a slut do you think I am? No, don’t answer that. I already know I’m not exactly Good Housekeeping’s Bachelor of the Year, but, urrrggghh, Willow.’

I dropped my eyes and drank more coffee to cover my confusion. ‘Well, what was I supposed to think? I mean, it looks used and everything.’

‘It is used, you bloody stupid woman.’ But his voice was softly amused. ‘I put components into condoms to transport them. Water can wreak havoc with computer bits, and the small ones get lost so easily. I tuck them inside a Durex and they’re waterproof, easy to find and’ – confidentially – ‘they can’t get you pregnant. Right, you finish your coffee. I must have a word with Ash. I think we might have a bit of ground to make up, him and me.’

And he left me standing, plastic cup melting into my fingers, feeling a complete tit.