Page 121 of Reinventing Cato
“Do you have anything I might be interested in? Or can you give me a price for mine?”
“You’ve come all the way up here for that? You didn’t even know I’d be in.”
“I came up to introduce Cato to my parents.” He took hold of Cato’s hand and squeezed his fingers.
“Oh right.” He looked from Vigge to Cato and nodded. “I doubt I’ll have anything you’d be interested in, but let me have a look at yours. Maybe Cato could play it? He might make it sound better than you.”
Vigge shot Cato a smile. “Wait until you hear him.”
“You want a coffee?” Hendry asked.
“I’m fine, thanks.” Cato took Vigge’s violin from its case.
“I’ll have one.” Vigge followed Hendry to the kitchen.
“He’s cute,” Hendry said quietly. “What the hell did your parents say?”
“They haven’t met him yet and I hope they’ll saynice to meet you. I decided I’ve been hiding long enough. No more secrets.”Tell me!
Hendry sighed. “This village is too small.”
“You could have moved.”
“I like it here.”
As Hendry made the drinks, Cato began to play and Hendry widened his eyes.
“Shostakovich,” Hendry whispered. “Oh wow, heisgood. More than good. Bloody brilliant.”
So much went through Vigge’s mind as they stood in the kitchen with their coffees, Vigge unable to drink his, listening to Cato play the concerto. If he found something else in the drawer that was black and white, something he could convince himself he’d mistaken for Anders’ scarf… That would be…okay. He’d never stop wondering what had happened to his brother, but he wouldn’t have to believe the worst of a man he’d known for so many years.
They went into the living room and when Hendry leaned against the wall, Vigge mouthedbathroomand Hendry nodded. Vigge put down his coffee, went straight to the drawer in the bedroom and pulled it open. His heart was already racing but it accelerated when he saw the black-and-white scarf. He examined the knots in the tassels and shuddered.
The sense of betrayal almost took him out at the knees. It could be innocent.It could. But…Why would Hendry keep it all these years? Why in this drawer? Knowing he might get the answers he’d long been waiting for made his heart race.
Cato stopped playing. That was the warning, and Vigge turned to see Hendry in the doorway. Vigge waited. What was he going to get? Anger, denial, confession? Even Vigge wasn’t sure how he felt. Whatever Hendry said, could Vigge believe him?
Silence. Though Hendry had paled.
“This is Anders’ scarf,” Vigge said.
Hendry’s sigh sounded as if he was exhaling his final breath and Vigge’s heart collapsed with it.
“Yes.”
One word spoken so quietly, Vigge might have missed it, but he hadn’t.
“I thought you might have seen it,” Hendry said. “Drunk but not drunk enough. Me, I mean.”
Cato came up at Hendry’s back, not part of the plan. He’d told Cato to keep clear in case Hendry grabbed him, threatened him, but Hendry walked away from Cato towards Vigge. He reached for the scarf, but dropped his hand before he touched it. He was shaking.
“Where did you get it?” Vigge asked. There could still be an acceptable reason.
“I found it. I wondered if it was Anders’.”
“Don’t lie,” Vigge snapped. “Not now.”
“Can we sit down?” Hendry whispered.
