Page 96 of Reinventing Cato
“Absolutely,” Cato said.
“No way.” Devan shot a warning look at his brother. “You’d probably teach him how to say something entirely different.”
“What are you studying, Sam?” Cato’s mother asked.
“Agri-food robotics.”
“Fascinating. Are you part of the programme with Lincoln University?”
“Yes, I am. Excuse me, I need to nip to the bathroom before the interval’s over.”
It was hard not to wonder if Sam was escaping any probing questions. Cato watched Sam go and Vigge thought he might be thinking the same thing.
“How did you meet?” Cato’s mother asked him.
“You’re not allowed to ask questions without me being here and I have to go.” Cato turned to Vigge. “Remain a man of mystery.”
Suddenly, the smile on Cato’s face vanished as he stared at someone over Vigge’s shoulder.
“Max and Louise,” Cato whispered.
Vigge turned. Their photographs didn’t do them justice. They were even better looking in the flesh.
Cato strode in their direction and Vigge followed.
“What are you doing here?” Cato said quietly.
“Darling, you know how much we love listening to you play,” Louise said. “You were brilliant.”
“We want to talk to you,” Max said. “Can we take you for a meal after the concert?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Cato turned away.
“A hundred thousand pounds,” Louise spoke quietly but both Cato and Vigge heard.
Cato swivelled round, shook his head and walked off.
“What?” Max muttered. “Are you crazy?”
He took Louise’s arm and pulled her through the crowded bar. As they left, Vigge could see they were arguing. A hundred thousand pounds. It was a shitload of money to turn down but it appeared as if Max hadn’t been in favour of it being offered.
The first piece after the interval wasThe Sorcerer’s Apprenticeby Dukas. Vigge wondered if anyone could listen to it without thinking of a panicking Mickey Mouse and those multiplying broomsticks. He sort of knew how Mickey felt. Vigge didn’t like things he couldn’t control and he had the horrible feeling the situation was only going to get worse.
The last piece the orchestra played was new to Vigge, a piece by a twentieth century composer that didn’t capture him, and he found his mind wandering. Seemed ironic that he was trying to help ensure Cato’s decision about the NASA job was free from outside pressure, yethewanted to put pressure on Cato not to take it. And yes, he knew they were only just getting to know one another, but now Vigge had found someone worth coming out for, only to know that in a few months he might lose him, was hard to accept. And he couldn’t say a word. Cato had to make up his own mind.
It was ridiculous to think Cato might turn down the job of a lifetime based on such a short acquaintance. Yet Vigge couldn’t help feeling disappointed that he was working to try and help Cato be able to make the decision free of threat. Emotional involvement was so new to him. He usually went for hot and forgettable. Cato wasn’t forgettable. Vigge was pissed off he’d been too much of a coward as a teenager to learn the rules of engagement. What should or could he say or do? When was it acceptable to express how he felt? Did Cato feel the same?
At the end of the concert, he followed Cato’s family to the foyer, but waited away from them. Vigge spotted Sam and Pedro heading through the exit and decided whatever Cato wanted to do now, he was going to make sure he got back safely to his house. Vigge had a niggling concern that something bad was going to happen. His anxiety only eased when Cato was with him.
Cato emerged with his violin over his shoulder, a smile on his face, and came straight to him, not to his parents or brother.
“Have Pedro and Sam gone?” he asked.
Vigge nodded. “Yes.”
“I really don’t want it to be either of them.”
Cato’s mother walked over. “Are you okay, darling?”
