09.04.2017 Views

1 The Cuckoo's Calling

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“We’ll go to mine, then, shall we?”<br />

Her tongue was cool and sweet and tasted of Pernod.<br />

“Have you slept with my father?” he managed to say, between the pressings of<br />

her full lips on to his.<br />

“No…God, no…” A little giggle. “He dyes his hair…it’s, like, purple close<br />

up…I used to call him the rocking prune…”<br />

And then, ten minutes later, a lucid voice in his mind urging him not to let<br />

desire lead on to humiliation, he surfaced for air to mutter:<br />

“I’ve only got one leg.”<br />

“Don’t be silly…”<br />

“I’m not being silly…it got blown off in Afghanistan.”<br />

“Poor baby…” she whispered. “I’ll rub it better.”<br />

“Yeah—that’s not my leg…It’s helping, though…”

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