Page 108 of Reinventing Cato
“Your turn,” Cato told him when he’d done.
Vigge choseAdagio for Strings,thenran into Coldplay’sViva la Vida.
“Yes!” Cato yelled when he realised what Vigge had started. “Now the old king is dead…”
“Long live the king.”
They were singing and hip-checking each other as they played, and Vigge thought he’d never felt happier.
Eventually, they tired and put their instruments away.
“That was fun,” Cato said.
“Good exercise playing with you. I’m exhausted.”
“Have you done your three hours at the gym today?”
“Why?”
“I need you in prime physical condition for what I have planned next.”
“Eating dessert?”
“I forgot about that.” Cato cut two slices of the tart and they sat back at the table.
“Mmm,” Vigge moaned as he ate it. “Now I’ll have to spend four hours at the gym.”
“Do you play any sports? Ice hockey, wrestling, polo, crown green bowling?”
Vigge chuckled. “None of those.”
“Not football.” Cato made the sign of a cross with his fingers. “The devil’s game.”
“Why?”
“Because we had to play it at school regardless of the weather and I hated it. Even the chance to see Ian Prescott strutting around in his tight black shorts wasn’t enough compensation. He had the most beautiful arse and it was my only chance to stare at it without him noticing. Very distracting, even though he was straight. I pretended I supported Newcastle United just so he’d throw a few crumbs of conversation my way.”
“That…”Oh God.Vigge dropped his fork.
“What have I said? You’ve gone white. What’s wrong?”
“Black-and-white.”
“Newcastle’s colours. Ian was from there. What is it?”
“My brother loved Newcastle United. I don’t know why. He wouldn’t tell me. Following the club seemed to come out of nowhere, but Mum bought him the scarf for his twelfth birthday. He wore it all the time. He was wearing it when he left the house the night…the night he… and I think… Oh God, I think I saw it.”
“Where?”
“When I went up to see my parents at New Year, I played my father’s violin in the pub with Hendry, my old violin teacher. He was Anders’ teacher too. Hendry was drunk. I drove him home, helped him to bed. His bedside cabinet was open and he slammed it shut. Not too drunk to do that. Told me it was his porn stash. Therewasa magazine in there but I saw something soft, something black and white.”
As Vigge replayed it in his mind, his heart raced.
Cato reached across the table for his hand and Vigge gripped it tightly, as if Cato could help him make sense of this.
“That’s a big jump,” Cato said quietly. “It might not have been a scarf and how long did you say your brother’s been missing?”
“Eighteen years.”
