4
“What’s wrong?” Paul gave
Trevor an appraising look. “You haven’t been, uh, well, not
yourself lately. You’ve not changed your mind about joining the
cricket team?”
“No, I told you I’m not
interested in the bloody cricket team!” Trevor snapped. It had been
a week since the match, and Paul had managed to bring up the
subject of him becoming the team’s spin bowler almost every
day.
“Whoa!” Paul held up his
hands. “So if it’s not the unmentionable game of willow hitting
leather, what’s the matter? It’s not like you to be like
this.”
“It’s nothing.” Trevor
knew he’d spoken too quickly.
Paul raised an eyebrow,
but remained silent.
The two were sitting at the
breakfast table, Paul with his usual bacon sandwich. Trevor, not
being hungry, had a cup of tea.
Paul’s continued silence
and penetrating gaze unnerved Trevor, who squirmed in his
seat.
“There’s nothing
wrong.”
“Uh huh.” It was obvious
Paul didn’t believe him.