Free I, Spy? by Kate Johnson Page B

car? Really, the kindest thing you could do to that thing is let it sink without trace.”
    “What’s wrong with my car?”
    Uh-oh. Did I just break the cardinal rule? Did I just insult a man’s car? I mean, it wasn’t that bad a car. It was just boring. Luke should be in an Aston or something. Not a Vectra. Not something so…ordinary.
    Maybe I should refrain from saying so, though. I mean, we hardly knew each other, and he was sort of my boss.
    Then I remembered him sneering at Ted and said firmly, “It’s pants.”
    “How do you know?”
    “My dad had one once as a loaner when his got mud in the carburettor. He hated it.”
    “Did you ever drive it?” Luke asked pointedly.
    I made a face at the phone. I wasn’t old enough at the time. “Look, you know where my parents live. There’s a footpath just up the road a bit if you want to walk up, but really, I’ll be fine. Do you need me for anything else?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”
    “I’ll call you.”
    “No!” If he called, Chalker would be merciless. “Text me. I’ll tell them it’s Angel or someone.”
    “Ten-Four.” And he was gone.
    I couldn’t help grinning at Tammy as I lifted her cage out of the car. In real life, people always said goodbye at the end of a phone call. Or at least thanks, or see you later, or something. They didn’t just cut the call. They only do that in X-Files land.
    Wow. How cool was I? I was just like Scully. Except I had blonde hair. And Luke was cuter than Mulder.
    Well, he was. Speaking purely objectively.
    I kicked open the door and lugged Tammy inside. Strange for such a tiny cat to weigh so bloody much. She was making herself as heavy as possible, I knew, just to spite me. And I’d never be able to get her back in the box to take her home.
    “Oh, hello. Why have you got Tammy?” my mother asked as she came out of the kitchen, tying her apron.
    “There’s a leak,” I improvised. “In the kitchen. Because of the builders. You know, across the car park. I called a plumber but they can’t get the part for it. So Tam and I are coming back here.”
    My mother shrugged. “Okay.” She glanced at the spitting ball of menace that was my baby kitten. “She looks pissed off.”
    You sort of have to get used to my mother. She can be a bit full throttle. Don’t get me wrong, I adore her and everything, but she’s not what you might call normal.
    Guess it runs in the family.
    I poured out some Go-Cat for Tammy, then got some milk at the ready in case she hadn’t forgiven me. But the biscuits seemed to work. She hissed at Norma Jean, my brother’s loopy blonde dog, and made herself at home in seconds flat. Cats are easy to please.
    “Charlie said you had someone over when he called this morning,” my mother said, giving me the sort of “tell me everything ” look I usually get from Angel. “Someone male?”
    I’m afraid I blushed. “No, that was just the plumber,” I said. “Sorry.”
    My mother did indeed look disappointed. “Thought you might have invited him over,” she said.
    “What, the plumber? I don’t think so.”
    “It really wasn’t anyone interesting?”
    “Nope,” I lied. “Sorry. So who’s Chalker bringing home?”
    My mother did a palms-up. “I have no idea. Lucy? Laura? Lulu? The one with the blonde ringletty things.”
    “Jessica?”
    “Maybe. One of those skinny hipless things.”
    I smiled at that. My mother and I are united in our fight against turning into my grandmother (I have a good few years yet, and still have to look forward to turning into my mother first, but I still dread the day I wake up and think hair lacquer would be a good idea), who sort of melted outwards as she got older. Neither of us was built to be a hipless wonder, as my mother calls them, and we both know that neither of us would ever be able to run without wearing about three sports bras. We hated skinny girls.
    Chalker’s new bird turned out to be minuscule and hardly