“He also dislocated a man’s jaw,” Luke cuts in. “Did you read about that?”
For a few moments I’m halted.
“That was… years ago,” I say at last. “He’s made amends… he’s reformed… ”
“Whatever, Becky.” Luke sighs and picks up his briefcase. “Can we just leave it?”
He heads out of the room and I hurry after him.
“No. We can’t leave it. We have to talk, Luke. You’ve barely looked at me all week.”
“I’ve been busy.” He reaches into his briefcase, takes out a foil strip of ibuprofen, and pops out a couple of tablets.
“No, you haven’t.” I bite my lip. “You’ve been punishing me.”
“Can you blame me?” Luke thrusts his hands through his hair. “This has been a hell of a week.”
“Then… let me help!” I say eagerly. I follow him into the kitchen, where he’s running water into a glass. “There must be something I could do. I could do research—”
“Please!” Luke interrupts, and swigs down his ibuprofen. “No more help. All your ‘help’ does is waste my bloody time. OK?”
I stare at him, my face burning. He must have looked at my ideas in the pink folder. He must have thought they were total rubbish.
“Right,” I say at last. “Well… I won’t bother anymore.”
“Please don’t.” He walks off into the study, and I can hear him opening desk drawers.
I want to say something else. Something witty and incisive which will prove him wrong. But I can’t think of it.
As I’m standing there, the blood thumping round my head, I hear the sound of the letter box. I go into the hall, where a package is lying on the doormat. It’s a slim Jiffy bag for Luke, with a smudged postmark. I pick it up and stare at the handwriting, written in black marker pen. It looks kind of familiar — except it’s not.
“You’ve got a parcel,” I say.
Luke comes out of the study, holding a pile of files, and dumps them in his briefcase. He takes the package from me, rips it open, and pulls out a compact disc, together with a letter.
“Ah!” he exclaims, sounding more pleased than he has all week. “Excellent.”
“Who’s it from?”
“Your sister,” says Luke.
I feel like he’s hit me in the solar plexus.
My sister? Jess? My eyes drop down to the package in disbelief. That’s Jess’s handwriting?
“Why…” I’m trying to keep my voice calm. “Why is Jess writing to you?”
“She’s edited that CD for us.” He scans to the bottom of the page. “She really is a total star. She’s better than our own IT guys. And you know, she wouldn’t take any payment. I must send her some flowers.”
His voice is all warm and appreciative, and his eyes are glowing. Suddenly there’s a huge lump in my throat.
He thinks Jess is fab, doesn’t he? Jess is fab… and I’m crap.
“So Jess has been a help to you, has she?” I say, my voice trembling.
“Yes. To be honest, she has.”
“I suppose you’d rather she was here than me. I suppose you’d rather we swapped places.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Luke folds up the letter and pops it back in the Jiffy bag.
“If you think Jess is so great, why don’t you just go and live with her?” I can’t seem to control the words — they escape in an avalanche. “Why don’t you just go and… and talk about computers together?”
“Becky, calm down,” says Luke, clearly amazed.
But I can’t calm down.
“It’s OK! You can be honest! If you prefer a miserable skinflint with zero dress sense and zero sense of humor to me… just say so! Maybe you should marry her if she’s so great! I’m sure you’d have a wonderful time together… ”
“Becky!” Luke cuts me off with a look which chills me to the marrow. “Just stop right there.”
I don’t dare move a muscle. I feel like we’ve plunged to some new, scary place in our relationship.
“I know you didn’t get along with Jess,” he says at last. “But you should know this. Your sister is a good person. She’s honest, reliable, and hardworking. She spent hours on this for us.” He taps the disc. “She volunteered to do it herself, and she didn’t ask for any pay or any thanks. I would say she’s a truly selfless person.” He takes a few steps toward me, his expression unrelenting. “You could learn a lot from your sister.”