“Cool!” I grab the shopping-and-lattes stroller and head for the start. “Race you, Mr. Warrior.”
“You’re on.” Luke takes hold of the enormous khaki handles, then frowns. “How do I release the brake?”
“Ha! Loser!” I start dashing over the pavement section with my nippy stroller. A moment later I see Luke starting to push his monster along, and soon he’s gaining on me.
“Don’t you dare!” I say over my shoulder, and pick up the pace.
“The Warrior is invincible,” Luke says in a film-trailer voice. “The Warrior admits no defeat.”
“Can the Warrior do a twirl?” I retort. We’re on the marble surface by now, and my stroller is amazing! I push it with one finger and it practically does a figure eight. “You see? It’s absolutely—” I look up to see Luke already on the gravel. “You missed your compulsory figures!” I call in outrage. “Twenty-second penalty!”
The Warrior is pretty cool on gravel, it has to be said. It just kind of crunches the stones into submission. Whereas my stroller is a bit…crap.
“Need any help there?” Luke inquires as he watches me pick my way across. “Having trouble with your inferior pram?”
“I don’t plan to take the baby to any gravel pits,” I retort kindly. I reach the grass and accidentally-on-purpose bump my pram into Luke’s.
“Trouble with your steering?” He raises his eyebrows.
“Just testing your airbags,” I say airily. “They don’t seem to be working.”
“Very kind of you. Shall I test yours?” He bumps his pram into mine, and with a giggle I shove him back again. At the side fence I can see Stuart watching us in slight alarm.
“Any decisions yet?” he calls out.
“Oh yes,” Luke calls back, nodding. “We want three Warriors.”
“Shut up!” I hit Luke with the back of my hand and he starts to laugh.
“Make that four—” He breaks off as his mobile rings. “Hang on a sec.” He takes it out and lifts it to his ear. “Luke Brandon. Oh, hi.”
He lets go of the pram and turns away. Maybe I’ll have a go with the Warrior now. I take hold of the massive handles and give it an experimental push.
“You’re kidding,” I hear Luke saying sharply. I wheel the Warrior round till I’m facing him. His face is tight and pale, and he’s listening with an intent frown to whoever’s on the phone. Is everything OK? I mouth at him, but he immediately swivels away and takes several paces away from me.
“Right,” I can just hear him saying. “We have to…think about this.” He’s rumpling his hair as he walks along the stroller course, not even noticing the couple with the three-wheeler who have to dodge him.
Feeling slightly anxious, I start following him with the Warrior. What’s happened? Who’s that on the phone? I bump the wheels down some steps, and at last I catch up with him at the sandy beach section. As I draw near I feel a nervous flip. He’s standing still, clutching his phone, his face etched with tension.
“That’s not an option,” he keeps saying in the same low voice. “It’s not an option.” All of a sudden he notices me and his whole face jolts.
“Luke…”
“I’m talking, Becky.” He sounds rattled. “Could I have some privacy, please?” He strides off down the sand, and I gaze after him, feeling as though I’ve been punched in the face.
Privacy? From me?
My legs are trembling as I watch him striding away. What went wrong? One minute we were pushing prams and laughing and teasing each other and now…
Suddenly I’m aware of my own mobile ringing inside my bag. I have a sudden mad conviction it’s Luke, apologizing — but I can see him on the other side of the stroller course, still talking.
I pull out my phone and switch it on. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Brandon?” comes a crackly voice. “Dave Sharpness here.”
Oh, for God’s sake. Of all the times.
“At last!” I snap, taking out my worry on him. “Listen, I canceled you! What are you doing, still following my husband?”
“Mrs. Brandon.” Dave Sharpness chuckles. “If I had a penny for every woman who phones up to cancel the next day and then regrets it—”
“But I did want you to cancel!” I feel like hitting the phone in frustration. “My husband knows someone’s been following him! He saw one of your men!”
“Ah.” Dave Sharpness sounds taken aback. “Now, that should not have happened. I’ll speak to the operative concerned—”
