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Solo controlled his features; inside he felt like a dam was about to burst.
But it was Drew’s voice that broke. “I’m so sorry mate, for what I put you through. I don’t know how you even want to talk to me.”
Somehow Solo got the words out, though his voice shook. “Because you’re my brother. As near as it fucking gets. And I love you, mate. Simple as that.”
On the small screen he could see Drew swipe at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Love you too, mate. See you when I get out of this place, right?”
“Yeah, see you very soon.”
When the phone went to screensaver, Solo gave it back to Emma.
She pocketed it. “All good,” she said lightly, but he saw her lower lip tremble.
“All good,” he replied. He went over to the wall and leaned over it, looking out to the blue of the horizon. “Em,” he said as she joined him, “I think I would like to talk about that girl. I don’t want solutions, or advice. I just want to get it off my chest.”
“Tell me about her,” she said softly.
Solo hauled in a breath. “Her name’s Polly and she’s driving me completely fucking crazy…”
* * *
It was the Wednesday after Carts’party and Solo had been avoiding her. And no surprise, really.
She’d like to pretend she was avoiding him, but the truth was, Polly only had to walk into the room and he’d get up and leave. He studiously avoided her gaze in meetings. When she sidled up to him at the vending machine and said hi, he said a stony “hi” and sauntered off.
Yes,sauntered.
She wouldn’t have minded if he’d stormed off all huffy. But this casual indifference was like a paper cut; it hurt so much more than it should.
And then Judith had come up behind her and bought a bar of Toblerone and said, “It’s no good, I have to tell you or I’m going to burst,” and her eyes were so shiny bright and happy it made Polly’s gut jack-knife.
She knew what Judith was going to say but she asked anyway, “What? Tell me?” in her brightest, best, interested voice.
Judith leaned in and whispered close to her ear, “Carts kissed me. At the end of the party.”
Polly had the uncharitable urge to say in a St Trinian’s-style voice, “Bully for you,” with a jolly air punch for extra emphasis. She didn’t, of course. She smiled and made sure her eyes crinkled up and her cheeks bunched and said, “That’s wonderful. If it’s what you wanted, which it looks like it was.”
“Oh yes.” Judith was blushing. “He’s got a lovely kiss. And he said he really likes me and did I want to go out for dinner.”
“And you’re going to accept?”
“Should I?”
Polly popped her eyes. “Whyever not?”
“It’s so soon after—you know—only a few weeks, really.”
“But you’re keen on him, right?”
“Oh yes, he’s dreamy.”
“Dreamy” and “Carts” hadn’t ever occupied the same thought bubble in Polly’s mind. Instead, her gaze snagged on Solo’s broad shoulders disappearing into the doctor’s office and her heart twanged violently like a breaking violin string.
She’d blown it. She’d thought on Saturday she’d triumphed, but now her little kingdom of self-righteous victory was crumbling. More accurately, it had gone completely bankrupt.
“Look, Jude,” she said with sudden feeling. “If you feel good about this, grab it with both hands, enjoy it, be open to where it will take you.”Lousy hypocrite.
Jude beamed. “You’re right, Poll. You are so wise when it comes to relationships.”
