Jojo's French Escape

by Lorraine Wilson

  I make my way to Cal’s room reluctantly, wondering if Flump has stolen something of his again. A squeaky puppy woof from behind the half open door confirms my suspicions. He seems to be able to open doors, I haven’t worked out how yet. If he wasn’t destined to be a pet dog he would make a good criminal mastermind instead, especially as he looks so innocent and sweet. He is definitely the cheekiest dog I’ve ever met.

  I peer around the door to find Cal trying to catch Flump as he darts around the room. Flump is winning and seems to think being chased is a great game. Cal is certainly encouraging this opinion by laughing uproariously.

  ‘I am so sorry.’ I stare at the black object in Flump’s mouth. ‘What has he stolen this time?’

  ‘My wallet.’ Cal rolls his eyes. ‘Is he stealing to order now?’

  He makes a lunge for him and Flump leaps easily to one side.

  ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry.’ I have a feeling I should record that sentence and just hit replay every time he gets into trouble. ‘Flump, come here. Come here right now.’

  My words make no impression on him, even though he came back every time when we were doing recall training in the garden the other day. He fixes a reproachful eye on me, as if to tell me he can’t play the recall game right now because he’s playing the chasing game.

  ‘Maybe you should call him the Artful Dodger? He’d make a good burglar. I have to say I admire his cheek.’ Cal echoes my earlier thoughts. ‘I’ve lost count of how many things he’s stolen from me. I don’t know how he’s opening my door, I’ve definitely been keeping it closed. It does seem that my stuff has a certain fascination for him. Up until now it’s mostly been socks … and towels of course.’

  I glance at Cal. His face has split into a wide grin and his eyes aren’t so much dancing as doing an Irish jig. My cheeks flush, my stock response to Cal nowadays. It seems my body is determined to betray me. Cal raises both his eyebrows and I can’t help it, my mouth mirrors his grin.

  A thumping noise from the bed gets our attention. Flump sits on top of Cal’s duvet, wagging his tail so hard it’s banging on the bed. Either he’s pleased that his furry matchmaking skills seem to be working or he’s excitedly waiting to bolt if the chase resumes. I’m considering an undignified launch towards the bed when he decides to race towards me to show me his bounty. He drops it on my feet and his happy face seems to be saying, ‘Look, Mum, look what I found. Let’s go and buy dog treats.’

  I pick it up and give it a wipe on my jeans before sheepishly handing it back to Cal.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I repeat, wondering if it would be rude of me to suggest he gets a lock to put on his door. ‘I can go and get some baby wipes and give it a proper clean if you like?’

  ‘It’s fine, JoJo. Stop stressing and quit apologising while you’re at it.’ Cal laughs and takes the wallet back from me.

  His fingers brush mine and I shiver; the sexual electricity that pulses through me is scorching. If that’s what touching his fingers feels like I can’t help wondering what having the rest of him touching me, pressed up against me, skin on skin, might feel like.

  Now I can’t meet his eye, still possessed by the notion that sometimes he seems able to read my thoughts. The sense of connection is uncanny. Is it possible for only one person to feel this kind of sexual chemistry in isolation? Surely not.

  I risk a glance at him. He’s ruffling Flump’s ears and talking nonsense to him.

  ‘Why is it that one of your ears sticks up while the other one dangles down?’ he asks Flump solemnly, kneeling down so he’s eye to eye with him.

  Flump replies by licking Cal’s nose.

  I smile. ‘Barney’s do the same. I think it must be a secret club thing.’

  ‘The Sticky-Up Ear Club?’ Cal suggests.

  Did Poppy tell him that was what we’d jokingly called it? It would be an odd thing to share with him. Either he really does read my mind or we just happen to think alike.

  ‘Yes, how did you know?’

  ‘Your puppy is rubbish at keeping secrets. He talks in his sleep,’ Cal says solemnly, then grins at me again. His grin is warm, disarming and conspiratorial, drawing me in.

  I’m mirroring his grin. It’s virtually impossible not to respond to Cal when he smiles at me like this. It’s like being bathed in warm sunshine. There are definite cracks forming in the ice around my heart.

  I like Cal even more that he can talk nonsense like this. It’s been so long since I had the luxury of being silly and talking with Cal is … well, it’s fun. But it’s dangerous too, my mind issues a warning. Remember why letting Cal get close is still a really bad idea.

  Getting close to Cal is only going to draw attention to me. Invisible is the only way to avoid more pain. The familiar thoughts chill me, halting the brief thaw and damping down my momentary happiness. But I want Cal and opting for invisible feels like forgetting who I am. The inner battle confuses me, and I wrap my arms around my body. I’ve got to keep in mind Cal is a celebrity and the associated risk of exposure. My stomach lurches when I think about being in the public eye again and everyone dredging up the old stories. It seems my body and mind are in total agreement on that issue at least.

  I wish I knew how to deal with this, that I could talk about how I’m feeling about all this, not just the JoJo story-lite version. Not sharing makes me feel more alone but I can’t share with Poppy, I don’t want to worry her. She’d want to fix me and I don’t want her feeling responsible for my happiness on top of everything else she’s worrying about.

  If not Poppy then who else could I talk to? Not Annabel – I’ve already caused her enough worry, it doesn’t seem fair to add to it.

  Could I talk to Cal? The idea of talking to him doesn’t feel so ridiculous any more. I have the feeling he’d cope well with anything I had to say and talking to him as a friend needn’t lead to anything else. It’s not like I have many more options. Though I can hardly confide in Cal about my growing attraction to him.

  I feel stuck, like a car trapped in a muddy rut. I’m revving the engine but I’m going nowhere. I desperately want a push but I’m not sure how to ask for one.

  My thoughts turn back to Cal. I’m so aware of him my skin is prickling and my senses are on high alert. I’m aware he’s standing close to me, our bodies virtually touching, and his scrutiny of me feels almost palpable. I ignore the urge to open up to him; I need to know him better before I can give in to my instinct to trust him. I bite my lip, the thought sobering me up as I bend down to pick up Flump.

  ‘We’d better get on. We’ve got beds to make up, haven’t we, Flump?’

  Cal places a hand on my elbow as I turn to leave. My pulse instantly accelerates. I turn and regard him with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. If he makes a move on me do I really have the resolve to stop him and say no?

  ‘JoJo, I’d really like you to work with me on the Barn project. You’ve done a fantastic job here at the guesthouse. Poppy and Leo rave about you. No, really they do.’

  He keeps hold of my arm as I smile awkwardly, not sure how to respond to the compliment and thrown by my disappointment that he isn’t asking me out.

  ‘You know the area, you shop the markets, you’re familiar with French bureaucratic red tape and you’ve got great organisational skills. I’d be mad not to ask for your help.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘How about it? To start with, maybe you could show me around a bit? Help me get a feel for the area?’

  The combination of the word ‘feel’ and the continued touch of Cal’s hand on my arm is distracting me and wrecking my ability to stay detached.

  ‘Um, yes, well probably. I am quite busy … We’ll see. I’ll have to ask Poppy.’ A flush creeps up my neck. Why am I gabbling? ‘I’d better get on now. Sorry again about the thieving.’

  Time to beat a hasty retreat before more words tumble haphazardly out of my mouth. I hesitate at the doorway, think about waving but thankfully veto the impulse before my hand moves. It’s just as well I’m carryi
ng Flump because otherwise I’m not sure I’d know what to do with my hands.

  What has happened to me?

  I try to quell the urge to say ‘yes’, to let myself be swayed by the thought of spending more time with Cal. I must keep myself safe at all costs and remember what happened with Aiden, as if I’m likely to forget. Out in the hallway I snuggle my face down into Flump’s soft puppy fur and sigh.

  If anything like that ever happened again, I’d just die. I can’t ever let myself be that vulnerable again.

  Chapter 6

  ‘Have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow know what you truly want to become’

  Steve Jobs

  From annabelgrant@thestickybun.co.uk

  To joannagrant@thestickybun.co.uk

  Subject: Seriously???

  You have Callum O’ Connor staying at Les Coquelicots? He’s the chef you were talking about? Is he really as hot as he looks on TV? Please tell me he is, and he isn’t one of these celebs who are shorter and less inspiring in real life. This is soooo exciting. I’ve heard he’s a bit of a player though. Okay, not so much heard as I’ve read about him in the gossip mags. Sorry, I know how much you hate them, and I know they get things wrong all the time, I know that because of what they wrote about you.

  Still, promise me you’ll be careful, yes? If you were to become ‘linked’ with him that would plunge you back into the media spotlight and I just couldn’t bear to see you devastated again sis. I know you say there’s nothing going on with the two of you but for someone who isn’t interested you spend a lot of time talking about him. You’ve got to admit he’s definitely your type.

  Just sayin’!

  Love and hugs,

  Annabel xx

  I’m in the garden when I read the email from Annabel on my phone and I’m feeling annoyed at her presumption that I’m automatically going to make the same mistakes again. Surely I haven’t been going on about Cal that much? Thank goodness I didn’t tell her about the whole towel-slippage incident. I haven’t told anyone but that doesn’t mean I haven’t rerun what happened in my mind a few times and possibly imagined a different ending … But that’s where it ends. Some fantasies are just better staying as fantasies.

  I glance up to check on Flump only to see him slip through a narrow gap in the gate where the gatepost has come slightly away from the stone pillar. The gate that leads to the track that leads to the road. Panic courses through me.

  ‘Flump,’ I call after him, trying to keep my voice normal, as though nothing is wrong. I run as fast as I can, even though I’m utterly torn between racing and tackling him or hanging back because I don’t want him to think it’s a race and speed up.

  ‘Come here, sweetie,’ I coax, or at least I try to, but Flump is far too excited at being out on his own and off lead to listen to me. We’ve been doing recall training, but he always seems to know when I haven’t got a treat and guess what? Right now, I haven’t got a treat.

  He halts for a moment by the hedge, like he’s considering coming back but then he sticks his nose in the air as though catching an interesting scent and he dashes off again. Everything is a game to him and this is fun.

  I hear the car accelerating along the road far too fast and feel sick to my bones. No, no, no.

  Not Flump.

  This can’t be happening.

  I see Cal at the end of the drive, he’s walking back to the house and I yell to him. He’s closer to Flump than I am. I know I can’t get there in time and the sick feeling intensifies. My hopes temporarily rally when Flump runs close to Cal whose arms are wide and his stance low in an attempt to block him, but the attempt fails and Flump slips through, streaking onwards towards the road. It’s getting dark and I’m terrified the driver won’t see him. This can’t be happening, it can’t … Please God, don’t let Flump be hurt.

  I race up the track as fast as I can, hellbent on stopping the car, even if it means running in front of it. I had no idea it was possible to love a dog this much or that the fear of him being hurt would be so intense.

  Cal beats me to it, running into the middle of the single track road and holding his hand up to stop the oncoming car. In that split second of terror, a moment so horrifying I’ll never forget it, I swear my heart stops beating. It may only be a split second but it seems to last an eternity.

  Thankfully, with a screech of brakes the car stops too.

  I race behind Cal and swoop in to grab Flump and clutch him to my chest, dimly aware of Cal both thanking the driver for stopping and apologising to him.

  I wait for Cal at the top of the track and he puts his arm around both me and Flump and guides me back down the track to the guesthouse. His arm stays around me the whole time, all the way back to the house, and I have to admit I like it there. We have the kitchen to ourselves tonight as Poppy is over at Leo’s with Peanut, Treacle and Pickwick but Barney is still here and comes to greet us, tail wagging madly, as if it’s been days, not just minutes, since we were last here. Being blind makes it hard for him to adapt to new environments and Poppy says he seems happier here in his own home where he’s not going to walk into an unexpected sofa or wall.

  I collapse into a chair, still clasping Flump to me. His fur is damp with my tears. I’m not sure I can ever let him go.

  Without asking Cal puts the kettle on and makes me a tea which he places on the table in front of me.

  ‘Drink your tea. It’s okay, you can put him down now.’ With a tenderness I didn’t know he possessed, Cal prises my fingers away from Flump and puts him down on the floor where he immediately races off to wrestle with Barney.

  Flump isn’t affected by his recent adventure and also not bothered by the fact that Barney is at least six times his size. Barney seems to enjoy playing with Flump and is incredibly gentle with him.

  I watch them, clasping the mug in both hands, letting the warmth seep into my cold fingers. After a couple of sips, I feel less numb.

  ‘Cal, I don’t know how to thank you.’ I look down at my tea. ‘I don’t think I could’ve got there in time. If it wasn’t for you then he … he …’

  ‘Shh, hey, it’s okay. He didn’t. It’s okay.’

  ‘I think there’s something wrong with the gate mechanism, it doesn’t seem to want to stay closed properly.’

  ‘If you like I’ll take a look at it to see what’s wrong,’ Cal offers. ‘If you just show me where you keep your tools.’

  ‘It’s my fault, I thought there was something wrong with the gate the other day and I meant to say something. If anything had happened to Flump, I never would’ve forgiven myself.’

  Cal takes the mug from me and puts it on the table. Then he bends over my chair and wraps me into a hug. The comfort of it is deliciously sweet. It’s a hug I’ve been craving for a while. I really need this, and not just now in this situation. It’s a basic human need I’ve been ignoring for a while – to feel the comfort of another human being, to establish and experience a real connection. To be touched.

  I’m dizzy with relief that Flump is okay and my guard is lowered but even so, I can’t deny a hunger for more of this.

  For more of Cal.

  Peace seeps into me with the hug, stress easing out of my taut muscles. Gradually the horror of what might have happened to my lovely, vibrant puppy fades from my mind. Flump’s okay and I owe it to Cal.

  Does this mean I have to forgive him for the things he said to Leo when he first arrived? There’s a definite thaw inside me towards Cal. My anger has mostly dissipated and I’m not sure I want to freeze him out any more. Maybe there’s another option that won’t mean I have to abandon caution. We could be friends. Friends hug, don’t they?

  I’d like to be friends who hug.

  I definitely want lots of hugging.

  Crap, I think I might be enjoying this hug a bit too much. With a sigh I disengage, forcing myself to pull back. We’ll have to go easy on the hugging. I pick up my mug and drink the rest of the tea.

  �
�I don’t know how to thank you.’

  ‘I do.’ Cal holds my gaze. There’s a definite gleam in his eye.

  He’s not talking about … Surely not.

  ‘Um, what?’

  I’m no longer feeling cold and numb, in fact it’s the reverse: I’m rather hot and my skin feels super sensitised.

  ‘Get more involved with the Barn project. It’ll be more fun with you helping.’

  I’m not sure whether I’m disappointed or not, that he wasn’t suggesting what I thought. ‘Okay, I can do that.’

  ‘I’ve got one more request.’ Cal sits down in the chair next to mine and angles it towards me. His eyes are dancing their usual Irish jig. He takes the empty mug from my hands and his fingers brush mine in a way that doesn’t seem accidental. The atmosphere feels charged with anticipation and attraction that weave a web of connection between us.

  Is he playing with me?

  ‘Oh?’ I meant my tone to be polite and perhaps a little cool but instead I come across as nervous, even to my own ears.

  ‘Maybe you could take some time off and show me the area? I know you said you’d think about it and I get the feeling you’d like to spend time with me but …’ He shrugs. ‘You’d rather make up excuses and tidy up your linen cupboard or scrub floors that are already clean than do something you’d actually like to do? Do you want to explain that to me?’

  I don’t think he needs me to explain it to him at all but making me say it, making me vocalise my fear of getting hurt, would mean admitting I really like him. Or at least that I think I have the potential to really like him, enough that he could have the power to hurt me. I’m not ready to do that. I can forgive him for the things he said but forgetting is going to be harder, and wouldn’t admitting I like him just play right into his hands and prove him right?

  I bite my lip, I’m so torn. Part of me thinks I need to confess that I overheard that conversation so we can somehow put it behind us but, well, I just can’t face it. I do like him but not because he’s a celebrity. In fact, I like him despite him being a celebrity but is he ever really going to believe that?