Chapter Thirteen #3
I rolled my eyes and carried on scrolling. I still couldn’t find Daniel’s name anywhere. ‘Ben, it’s not here.’
‘Five O.’
‘Why?’
‘Book ’em, Danno. You know that TV programme. Hawaii Five-O.’
I shook my head. Boy logic, I’d never get it.
Finding the right number, I reluctantly pressed call.
‘Ben.’
‘I—’
Before I could get a word in, Daniel was saying, ‘Make sure you stay off the beer tonight, we’re relying on your bowling.’
‘It’s me, Olivia,’ I said. For a second I thought the line had gone dead. ‘Hello. Are you there?’
There was an empty pause. ‘Olivia. Hi. Thought you were Ben.’ His tone was clipped.
‘No,’ I said forcing a cheery note into my voice. Once again he sounded pissed off with me. ‘Although I could bowl if you want me to.’
I could almost hear the resigned sigh, as if he felt he had no choice but to talk to me. ‘Are you any good? We’re desperate.’
‘Not that desperate.’
‘So where’s Ben, why are you using his phone?’ His voice held an accusing note.
Ben shot me a questioning look. The last thing I wanted was him picking up on any negative vibes. I had to keep things light. ‘He’s driving. Allegedly. We’ve already had several near misses and I’ve only been in the car five minutes.’
Daniel laughed softly and I felt a hollow ache in my stomach at the sound. Shit I missed him.
‘So how many times have you thrown up then?’
‘Very funny.’
‘Sorry, couldn’t resist it. Just arrived?’ His voice gentled as he asked, ‘How’s the arm?’
‘It’s fine.’ My voice went husky at the concern in his. Then I glanced at Ben, who watched me with sharp, beady eyes. The little sod didn’t miss a trick.
I stuck my tongue out at him. ‘Ben picked me up. Except the half-wit came in the Mini. We’re supposed to be picking up your barbie. Is there any chance that you can bring it over on the way to the ground tomorrow morning?’
‘Tell him he’s bloody useless. I’ll ask Dad if I can pinch the Land Rover — we’ll probably need the trailer as well as Miriam has done her usual. She thinks she’s performing the feeding of the five thousand tomorrow.’ I could hear the pride in his voice. His stepmum, Miriam, was an amazing cook.
‘I’m in her kitchen now. Every time you open a fridge door, you’re in danger of being buried alive in chicken drumsticks marinating in stuff.’
I giggled. ‘Stuff! Daniel. It’s ambrosia.’
There was a grunt and I could hear Miriam berating him in the background.
‘I’m about to be beaten around the head with a sausage.’
‘Well, give her my love. Are her and your dad coming over to watch tomorrow?’
‘Yes, so you can tell them yourself. It’s their fifth wedding anniversary this weekend. Bloody embarrassing, they’re like love’s young dream all the time.’
As he said it, I could hear Miriam’s outraged shrieks and teasing threats.
‘How about your mob? I heard on the grapevine your dad’s been trying to recruit some fast bowlers.’
‘We’ll all be there, but you know I can’t spill team tactics.’
‘Excuse me! Where’s your loyalty? I don’t want any of this family solidarity rubbish. All the young ladies of the parish are supposed to be supporting the good-looking, virile team not the geriatric has-beens.’
I giggled. ‘I want to get fed and watered tonight. Dad might withhold my wine ration.’
‘If I’d known all it took was a bottle of Jacob’s Creek, I’d have signed you up as team mascot ages ago. Now there’s an idea, we could dress you up to distract the opposition.’
‘Dress me up as what?’ I asked, my voice squeaking slightly. Ben did a double take, swerving dramatically.
‘Now there’s a thought.’
Did I detect a slight husky timbre to Daniel’s voice?
‘How about some cheeky shorts? Get those legs out. That’ll get a few pulses racing. You never know their pacemakers might explode.’
His mention of my legs made me blush, remembering when he’d last seen them.
Ben snatched the phone from me. ‘I heard that. Think I’m going to be sick. If Olivia gets her kit off that really will sabotage the game.’
I couldn’t hear Daniel’s response properly.
‘Yeah. See you tomorrow, mate.’
The warm fuzzy feeling spreading through my chest dissipated the irritation at being cut off in my prime.
Ben glanced at me suspiciously before sliding the phone into his shirt pocket. ‘What’s happened to Emily?’ he asked slyly.
I looked at him questioningly. He’s not normally that quick on the uptake.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, jutting out my chin defiantly.
‘She’s definitely not coming?’ he asked, as we careered around a sharp corner.
With my feet wedged firmly into the front well, I jammed myself into my seat wishing he’d keep his eyes on the road. We swerved again. The car was doing sixty down the country lane.
‘No,’ I said shortly, hanging onto the seat and, through sheer will power, my lunch.
‘Oo, have you two fallen out?’ he said, in that irritating little brother way.
‘Not exactly,’ I said dryly. I didn’t want to go into details with him, it was too raw and he was the last person I’d confide in.
If you can rely on someone to say the wrong thing — it’s him.
I certainly didn’t want anything said to Daniel.
I could imagine it all too clearly, something along the lines of ‘The girlies have fallen out again’.
‘Why isn’t she coming? Not that Dan seems that bothered. I did wonder if they were still, you know . . .’ He glanced enquiringly over at me.
‘If they’re not, its news to me,’ I said brusquely.
His face fell.
Typical, Emily was just his type. I couldn’t bear it if she caught her claws into my baby brother. Quickly I added, ‘As far as I know, Emily’s still dead keen. She just hates cricket. What’s Daniel said then?’
‘Not a dicky bird. He doesn’t say much about her. Just call it my intuition.’
Intuition, I shook my head. Bless him. He wouldn’t see a lamp post until he’d walked into it.
‘He was asking about you and your fella. Oops, sorry.’ He rammed the gears into fourth.
Fella. Hello! What fella? Surely not Ned.
I would have asked but the last of the hair-raising turns he was negotiating at top speed was playing havoc with my digestion.
It was all I could do to hang onto the contents of my stomach.
When we screeched into the gravelled drive, pulling up with an emergency stop scant inches from the bumper of Dad’s Jaguar, all I could think about was the relief of being back on dry tarmac.