Reversing Over Liberace (20 page)

“Nothing, nothing,” I trilled. “Well, not exactly, we just had a bit of a misunderstanding, that's all.”

“Oh, right, about him moving out of the hotel and stopping at the showroom instead?”

“Ah, no. This was another misunderstanding. A different one.” Buoyed up and riding on the tide of goodwill that Luke's admission had brought, I told Katie the full background to last night's little, ahem, indiscretion on the lip frontage. When I'd finished, she frowned.

“Do you and Luke ever actually, y'know,
talk
, Wills? Or do you spend all your off-duty time shagging and communicating in mime?”

“What?”

“You do seem to have an extraordinary number of
misunderstandings
, don't you? For a couple who are supposed to be so deeply in love that they're planning to get
married
, there's a lot he doesn't seem to tell you about. And, please God, if you're going around kissing strange men, the reverse is also true.”

“Cal…it wasn't…it wasn't
that
sort of kiss.” I said indignantly. “And of course Luke and I talk, don't be stupid. It's just, you know how prone I am to grabbing the wrong end of the stick and using it to beat myself.”

“Yes, but the stick does have to be held out for you to grasp in the first place.” Katie put her hands on my shoulders and looked me deep in the eyes. “I'm worried about you, Will. Okay, so Luke might have good reasons for all the misconstructions that have gone on, but it's more that they've happened than what they've been about that worries me.”

“Well, my dear, worry no more.” I twirled around on my chair. “I'm going to suggest to Luke that we move into the flat next week and start living together properly. It can't be comfortable for him camped out in the showroom, and we might as well start getting it all together. How do you feel about wearing peach for the wedding?”

“Will, if it makes you happy I shall wear a whole fruit salad,” she said solemnly.

“Willow.” The door opened and Neil came in. “Bloke for you in the front.”

“Good Lord, it speaks. Evolution in action.”

“Shut it, frosty knickers.”

“What, Clive not with you? Was the separation a success?”

“And you can shut up an' all.” Neil grinned. “Dunno 'oo he is. Some weirdo. Bit of luck, he's a mad axe murderer.”

He wasn't. It was Cal, loitering about in the front office, looking at the photographs on the walls. (Man Rescues Tortoise—Pictures Inside.) “Hi.”

“Hello.” Katie was hanging around by my left shoulder like a conscience-devil. “How are you?”

“Fine. I came to…” Cal clocked Katie and began to stammer. “I…I…you, yesterday…quite…upset.”

“Everything's sorted now, just another misunderstanding,” I said smoothly. Well, I could have belched every word and next to Cal's delivery it would have sounded smooth. “Cal, Katie.”

“Oh, so
this
is the guy with the lip action. Pleased to meet you, Cal.” And Katie turned round to face me and half-whispered, “Fuck me, Willow, you didn't tell me he was such a
ride
. I mean, look at him.”

“Forgive my friend, Cal, she has a form of Tourette's. We normally keep her locked up for her own good.”

Cal smiled broadly and Katie went “phwooooarrrr” in my ear. “Chuffin' hell, will you look at the eyes on your man?”

“And she's Irish. Happily married. Quite respectable.”

Katie leaned over the desk towards Cal. “But prepared to be unrespectable, if the offer's right.” She pursed her lips and Cal's smile grew slightly broader.

“Are you any good with goats?”

“Um.”

“So, that's a ‘no' then.” I hustled Katie to one side with my elbows. “It's fine, Cal. I've spoken to Luke, he's explained. It was something personal.”

“Anyway. The brother in Boston? I've got the phone number, if you wanted to ring and introduce yourself.”

“What a great idea.” Katie derailed the nearest elbow and slotted herself in beside me again.

“Have you got something in your eye?” I asked her suspiciously.

“No, I'm fluttering my eyelashes, can't you tell?”

“I don't think Cal's impressed by fluttering eyelashes, Katie.”

“No, but I'm mightily impressed by anyone who can move my goat.”

Katie's appraising stare narrowed. “Is that some sort of code, Willow? Is he chatting you up in code? Because if he is, that's really unfair. No one chats me up in code, not even Dan—not that he chats me up anymore. Doesn't even chat much, if you want to know the truth. He sort of grunts and points. I think he learned it off the twins.”

Cal and I shared a baffled shrug. “So, do you want to call him now? You can borrow my mobile.”

“Well, not right this second. I mean, I'm at work and everything and it'll be the middle of the night in Boston, won't it? Tonight. I'll do it tonight.”

“Why are you putting it off?” He tipped his head on one side. “Are you worried about what he might say?”

“No! I told you, Luke and I have sorted everything out. If I ring James and he tells Luke that I called, then it looks as if I've gone behind his back and don't trust him.”

“But you
don't
, do you?” The words dropped into a clanging silence. I stared at Katie who didn't even look ashamed of herself. “Come on, Willow. If you trusted him, he wouldn't need to explain himself to you because the situations would never arise in the first place. I mean”—her voice became gentler—“you know I love you, Wills, but you can be a complete and utter zombo where men are concerned.”

“Is that a real word?” Cal asked.

“It is on Planet Katie,” I answered, a little bitterly. “Kate, you're warping things again. Luke and I are fine. We…oh, sod the pair of you. Give me the number, Cal. I'll call after lunch when it's a civilised time in Boston. Katie can earwig all she likes to make sure I ask the right questions. There. Are you both happy now?”

The two of them agreed that, yes, in this instance they were fairly satisfied with my reply, and Cal left the office, Katie watching his every move. When she noticed his limp, her eyebrows almost twanged.

“Christ Jesus, he even manages to make
that
look sexy. Aw, do an old married woman a favour. Before you marry Luke, shag Cal just the once”—a libidinous look—“and tell me
all
about it.”

“
Katie!
I will do no such thing. Anyway, Luke's sexy too, isn't he?”

She stopped boiling over and switched down to simmer. “Yeah, he's sexy, too. But it's different with Luke. He's macho sexy, all swagger and cock-first into a room. Your man there, you can tell he's the kind who'll make you wait, then lick you till you're screaming.”

A pause while we thought about this.

“You really do need to get out more, don't you?”

“Tell me about it,” she sighed.

 

 

 

At lunchtime, I paid a quick visit to OC, delivered a pile of magazines, and had a trepidatious first cuddle with my new niece. (“I'm thinking of calling her Grace. What do you think?” Actually that's the quickest way to ensure you have the clumsiest child in the county, but never argue with a post-natal woman.) Then I tied up with Luke (and I use the term advisedly) in our new flat.

“Why don't we move in? Properly? I mean, this would all be far more comfortable if we had, say, a bed,” I suggested from a section of floor by the balcony doors, a moisturising film of sweat being all that was between me and the beech laminate.

Luke was outside, on the balcony. His shirt was unbuttoned and hanging loose over his tan, trousers undone. He didn't seem to mind that he was giving all of York a prime opportunity to ogle the contents of his underpants. (Lycra shorts, if you must know. Those ones that hug it all close to the body.) “Sorry? Wasn't listening there.” I repeated my question and he turned slowly away from the view to face me. “Well, yes, obviously that would be great. Unfortunately”—and he stepped through the double doors to stand in front of me, a wayward breeze lifting his hair and tugging at his shirt—“although the sale has gone through, we can't actually move
in
for a few more weeks.”

“But why not? We own the place. Surely we can move in when we like?”

“Oh, I don't know. Don't ask me.” He crouched down beside me and rubbed a finger over my bare shoulder. “Some kind of estate-agent thing. But, I was going to tell you, I've met a bloke. He's something to do with custom-built furniture. If you like, and if we can shell out a few grand upfront, he'll come and measure the place, and start making some bits and pieces for us ready for when we can move in. How does that sound?”

“What ‘bits and pieces'?” I rolled beneath the pressure of his hand, like a puppy wanting its tummy tickled.

“Well, I've seen some designs he's done for beds.” Luke lowered his head and nibbled at my skin. “Very modern, all curves and arches. Erotic. Is that what you'd like? Oh, I
know
what you like.”

“The people opposite…” I started.

“They're across the river. What can they see? Anyway, let them look. We're worth watching, aren't we? Don't you think? I think they should
pay
to see this.”

They would have got their money's worth, that's all I'll say.

 

 

 

Back at the office, some time later. Who am I kidding—I was severely late, bursting in through the doors with my jumper on backwards and a pink, postcoital glow that was probably visible from the moon. I looked like someone had tried to fry my face.

Katie was waiting. “Here's the number. You promised Cal you'd ring, and you wouldn't want to disappoint a man like that, would you?”

“I swear you're a witch, Katie Gardner.”

“Yeah, of course. By the way, Will, how did Cal get the phone number? You don't know anything about this James.”

“I dunno. He just did. Where's the number?” There were more digits than in the amount I owed my credit card company.

“But, it's not like you can, say, ring Directory Enquiries, is it? Excuse me, I'm looking for the number for a James Fry, just
a
James Fry.”

“I said, I don't know. Why don't you ask him yourself? Oh. Sshh.” The telephone rang in the distant United States and I held my breath. “What am I going to
say
?” I whispered.

“Hello?” The voice was definitely British.

“Is that James? James Fry? Luke's brother?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess. Who's that?” American phraseology, a slight accent.

“Look, this is going to be a surprise but, I'm engaged to your brother. We're getting married next summer and I wanted to introduce myself. That's all.”

“Oh, yeah, hi there. Yeah, Luke's told me all about you. How is he, the old bastard?”

Katie tapped me on the shoulder and mouthed, “What's he like?”

I mouthed back, “Sounds really nice,” and listened to James going on about Luke and how he'd done nothing but talk about “the fantastic girl he's going with” and how Luke was going to make his millions. James clearly liked the sound of his own voice bouncing off a satellite, so I let him jabber away, interjecting every now and then with an “is that so?” and “sounds great”. I heard that the weather in Boston right now was hot and humid, the air conditioning was bust yet again, that Luke had promised to visit sometime soon, did I know when, and that James had met a gorgeous New England girl and he hoped to be settling down, maybe just after Luke and I. “So you'll be sure to fly over for the wedding.”

“It will be lovely to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Luke's been real different since he met you, you know. I know he's had his problems, but this past year he's less restless than he was before.”

“I'm sorry?”

“Well, since he met up with you, what, last fall, he's been like a different guy.”

“James, Luke and I have only been together since March.” Behind me, Katie moved closer, put a hand on my arm.

“Nah, gotta have been in the fall. I remember him talking about you on Thanksgiving, when he flew over.”

My heart felt uncomfortably too large for my chest. “Right. Yes, sorry my mistake. Fall, autumn, yes.” My mouth was dry and my tongue stuck to my teeth. “Um, James, can I ask you, when he talks about me, what does Luke call me?” I manufactured a deathly chuckle. “Only we're having a bit of an argument about him using my nickname.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I guess Dee-Dee does come over a bit childish.”

“Dee-Dee.” I sounded hoarse. “Yes. I wish he'd use my proper name.”

“D'you know, I don't know if I've ever heard it?” James sounded distracted now. “Look, it's been great shooting the breeze with you, but I've gotta get moving, I'm at work and…”

“Work. Yes.” My lips were scything against my teeth as my chin trembled. “How is business at Sampsons these days?”

A half-embarrassed chortle. “Sorry, I must be missing something? Company I work for, they're called Pearson Brothers. Pearson Brothers Electrical, we do components for hot air driers.”

I put the phone down while he was still explaining the tricky nature of hand-drier manufacture. Very, very carefully and softly, as though this was snow country in avalanche season. “Well,” I said, surprised that my voice still worked, “at least I know her name now.” It was my own stupidity that was overwhelming me, rising to my nose, my eyes, until I thought I might drown in it. Stupidity and humiliation. I was so full of it, there wasn't even room for tears. “I'm going to the loo.”

“You're not going to do anything stupid.” Katie watched me with anxious eyes.

“What, you mean more stupid than I've already done? I don't think that's possible. And anyway, in the
toilet
? I do have some dignity left.” I went into the women's cloakroom and surrendered most of my dignity to a snotty weep.