Her American Classic (Part 2)

by G J Morgan

  “There she is.” We could see the farmhouse for the first time. “You’ll be glad to know your toilet is not far away.”

  “Sight for sore eyes isn’t she? Wow.”

  “Pretty cool view, isn’t it?”

  “Tom, can you promise to take a picture of this before I leave? Bring your big expensive camera up here one day? I wouldn’t mind a few around the house, the garden. Be nice to have some pictures for my apartment finally, I’m bored of stark. I think your mom’s house has rubbed off on me. Who wants a house of magnolia and minimalism? Tom? Hello, Earth to Tom?”

  “Lilly slow down. Pull over behind me a sec.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We have company.”

  I pulled into a grass verge beside a field, grabbed my binoculars from off the back seat and got out the car. Lilly was already walking towards me, dodging mud and horse manure.

  “What am I looking at?” she asked as I passed her my binoculars.

  “See that silver car parked about hundred metres from the back of your house?”

  “Where?”

  “There.” I pointed. “By that gate, that cluster of trees. See it?”

  “Oh, yeah, I see it.”

  “Strange place to park, don’t you think?”

  “It could be just a coincidence.”

  “Let me go and explore, just to be on the safe side. Like you said, it might not be what I think it is.”

  “Is it your foreign friend? Your weed guy?”

  “Might be. I have no clue what Ludo drives. I have a vague memory his car was blue though, bashed up and old.”

  “Shall I come with?” handing me back the binoculars.

  “No, you stay here. If you get any attention just drive off.”

  “I’m gonna find somewhere round here to wee,” she said, looking over towards some bushes and brambles.

  “Keep your phone close by.”

  “Be careful, Tom.”

  “I will,” I said, walking into grass as tall as me.

  * * *

  “Is this the part where my house becomes a prison? Under house arrest?” Lilly threw an olive into her mouth.

  “I don’t know what it means. Could just be me overreacting.”

  “And you reckon it’s not this Ludo guy?”

  “I’m not 100% sure till I make some calls.”

  “It’s game over either way. Doesn’t matter if it’s Ludo or some fucker else. If one person knows where I live then they’ll all fucking know by now.”

  “Not necessarily. Paps keep their cards close to their chests. They all want exclusivity, the more eyes on you, the more their work drops in value. Like I said, it might not even be paps at all. Just cos the car was parked close and had equipment in the back doesn’t mean it’s them. I haven’t seen anyone, remember, just the car.”

  “Tom, it’s paparazzi. It’s too much of a coincidence.” She sipped her drink. “What shall I do? Should I still go back home or not? I can’t wait here all day. We could go back to your place?”

  “No, there might still be a few paps hovering about. I’ll think of something.”

  “I hate all that cat-and-mouse stuff. I came to England to get away from that. I expect that in LA, but I thought I’d be safe here. If Frank and Sally come back to cameras at my front door they’ll make me move. Sally has already made it quite clear that the farmhouse isn’t fit for purpose. She’s looking for any excuse to turf me out.”

  “Turf you out where?”

  “I don’t know. Some high-rise tower like Rapunzel, security guards outside my room, military operations whenever I want to leave the house, driving in convoy like I’m about to be bumped off any minute.”

  “Don’t freak out yet. Let me do some digging. Get rid of a few question marks.”

  I walked outside, rows of white cottages and thatched roofs, families trickled on foot to or from the beach, the sound of flapping flip flops, kids complaining of the walk, mums moaning, dads eyeing up the pub. I took another sip of cider, scrolled my phone for a number I probably didn’t have. Turned out I did.

  “How are you, man?”

  “Who this?”

  “It’s Tom.”

  “What you want?”

  “Where are you, man?”

  “I’m somewhere. What you want?”

  “A favour.”

  “Ludo out of favours.”

  “I need some more weed. That bag you gave me didn’t last longer than an evening.”

  “I have no more for you. All gone.”

  “Come on, Ludo. You must have more.”

  “I saw your car at beach.”

  “When?”

  “Few days before. Sunday. Goodridge bitch with you.”

  “I promise you she wasn’t with me. But I know where she is right now.”

  “Where? I don’t believe. You lie, Thomas. I stop believing. Newquay was lie. This is lie.”

  “I’m not lying, Ludo. Are you able to get hold of some more weed?”

  “You prove you see girl. I find you weed.”

  I opened the pub door, aimed my phone at Lilly and took her picture. Sent it straight across to Ludo’s phone.

  “Where is this?”

  “A restaurant in Kingsbridge, near the quay. Tapas place. The only one, you can’t miss it. I’d be quick if I were you. I doubt she’ll be here much longer, looks like she and her friends are just on dessert.”

  “If this is lie, Thomas…”

  “It’s not, Ludo, I swear.”

  “I go now.”

  “Oh, hey by the way, were you over by South Sands today? I thought I saw your car earlier.”

  “Not me, friend.”

  “You drive a silver Benz, right?”

  “Not mine. I don’t drive German. My father would cut off balls. Now let me go.” He hung up. I went back inside.

  Over at the table I could see Lilly chatting to the landlord, both of them laughing.

  “Who was that?” I asked her, sitting back down. “You know him?”

  “A friend. Anyway, panic over. I can go back home.” Lilly looked pleased with herself.

  “How so?”

  “You aren’t the only one capable of detective work. Just rang my neighbour, forgotten he’d given me his number a few weeks back, something about blackouts and floods, best to have each other’s numbers just in case we are in the dark or drowning. I just got off talking to him.”

  “What he say?”

  “Car has gone.” She sipped through her straw. “What about you? Still question marks?”

  “Good news is, Ludo is now off on some wild goose chase.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Bad news, the car is someone else’s.”

  “And you say that was near where you used to park?”

  “Pretty near, yes. That’s why I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

  “Well it is what it is. Nothing we can do about it. Listen I’ve had an idea. A short-term solution to our current situation.”

  “Let me hear it.”

  “Meet me here at five o’clock.”

  “Here?”

  “You’ll need an overnight bag, too.”

  “Lilly. What are you up to?”

  “It’s nothing bad, trust me.”

  “And when did you plan this?”

  “Just now,” she said, smiling behind her glass. “Whilst you were outside.”

  “You have been busy.”

  “Let’s head our separate ways. Much to do. Places to ring.” She threw me my car keys across the table.

  “Where we going?”

  “Somewhere safe.” she said looking smug. “Oh, and you own a tux, right?”

  * * *

  “Here you go,”
she said, handing me the hanger.

  “Thanks so much, Dot. You’re a star. I owe you a nice lunch.”

  “Pleasure was all mine. I’ve been itching to use my new garment steamer. I only bought it off QVC to annoy him indoors, but I actually quite enjoyed it. Quite therapeutic actually. Is it new?”

  “Only worn it the once.”

  “Off the peg?”

  “No, Savile Row.”

  “I should have known. You don’t see lining like that on the high street. And where are you off to in such grand attire?”

  “I’m not quite sure yet.”

  “With your lady friend, I assume?”

  “A gentleman never tells.”

  “Well, you better be the gentleman, Thomas. Have you got her something nice?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “As a gesture. Some flowers. You can’t turn up empty-handed.”

  “We’re just friends, that’s all.”

  “In my day, a man didn’t dress up in tails on a Saturday night unless he was after something a bit fruitier than friendship.”

  “Times have changed, Dot.”

  “So you keep telling me. Though I don’t think as much as you’d like to think. I best be off, got a pile of my own ironing to get through now.”

  “Dot, I really appreciate what you’ve done for me. Not just all the washing and ironing today but everything else. You’ve made a stranger feel very wanted.”

  “Just make sure you give us five stars on Tripadvisor.”

  “I thought you didn’t want any more customers?”

  “Three stars then,” she laughed. “It’s going to be sad when you go, Tom, for all of us, dog included. How long is it till you leave me for the North again?”

  “Not long at all. A week, two weeks tops.”

  “Then you best make the most of it, Tom. Tonight included.”

  “It’s not a date, Dot. People like Lilly don’t date people like me.”

  “Well, from where I’m looking it seems she does now.” Dot picked up my dirty mugs from off the side. “Does your friend still need a room anytime soon? You have been threatening me with his visit for the last few weeks.”

  “Not Vince’s biggest fan, are you, Dot?”

  “The man is a charmer, I’ll give him that. But not charms that work on me, I’m afraid. Does he need a room next week? As I haven’t got many spare.”

  “I need to ring him at some point. I’ll ask him. Though last time we spoke he sounded pretty keen to.”

  “Well let’s hope he stays put. I have enough rude Americans without adding one more. Try and put him off if you can.”

  “Don’t worry, Dot. Putting him off was already top of my agenda.”

  15

  I could already picture Tom’s face when he pulled up outside the pub and I guessed that he wouldn’t approve of my choice of transport. The E-Type was hardly subtle, and in light of the news of my new stalker, blacked-out windows would have been far more appropriate. But my little convertible was a lot more fitting. Where we were going was a place you turned up to with the wind in your hair and not a care in the world, arriving in style was all part of the experience. So, when Tom pulled up and took a glance at me in the driver’s seat looking all Thelma and Louise, I was quite surprised how unconcerned he was by the car and how excited he looked about where I was taking him.

  “I’ve a young daughter to think about, remember.” He shoved his bag in the trunk.

  “I don’t drive that fast,” I said, punching his arm.

  “You forget I’ve been the car chasing you for the last few weeks.” He folded his suit jacket carefully and draped it over the back seat. “You gonna tell me where we’re going yet? Or am I about to be blindfolded?”

  “All we be revealed soon,” I said, putting my foot down, off through curves and bends, heading towards the most beautiful of secrets.

  * * *

  “Look, I’ll take our stuff down,” Tom said looking over the edge, a mile of steps. “I should be able to do it in one trip. How long we here for?” he said, feeling the weight of my bag.

  It wasn’t busy down below, still a few families making the most of the very little sand left, packing away their belongings, crushing sandcastles, the day was turning into evening, the tide was turning beach into ocean.

  “Looks like squashed peaches, don’t you think?” I said pointing at the sky.

  “Edvard Munch.”

  “Showing off again, are we, art boy?” I said, tiptoeing across the wet, dodging little pools and puddles.

  “Our taxi?” Tom pointed ahead of us, a taxi as high as a house, tyres bigger than us.

  “Monster truck.” Both of us smiling, excited by the absurdity of our transport.

  Tom attempted to help the driver with our bags, but the offer was declined quickly, all part of the service he said, as we went to find seats that weren’t there.

  “Standing only, I’m afraid.” he smiled. “Lucky you ain’t got far.”

  “You cold?” Tom noticing me shiver.

  “A little.”

  “Here.” Tom pulled a woolly hat out of his coat pocket. “Put this on,” he said, before gently pulling it over the top of my head, curling my hair behind my ears.

  We thought we might be the only passengers as we waited for what felt like ten minutes but was probably more like two. Till a posh car drove down onto the beach and a well-dressed couple were escorted from car to tractor, as were their many suitcases and travel bags.

  “That’s how to arrive in style.” Tom nudged me, watching Fred and Ginger move gingerly from sand to steel.

  “Rather peculiar, isn’t it?” The woman smiled at us, climbing up the steps. “Driving across an ocean.”

  “Better than swimming across, hey?” her husband laughed, as Tom and I laughed back.

  “Right we are, ladies and gents. Hold onto your hats and husbands,” the driver shouted, starting the engine, as loud as it was angry, tyres quickly disappearing underwater. I took one more look at the mainland, already it looked smaller.

  “I wish we had a camera.” I nudged Tom. “Shouldn’t paparazzi have a camera at all times?”

  “It’s my night off.”

  “And how do I know you haven’t got it tucked away in that bag of yours, just in case?”

  “Feel free to check.” Our eyes turned back to our destination, not where we’d just left.

  The hotel looked incredible, lit up like some ocean liner, like the world was covered in water and this was the only building left. We huddled together, the tractor battling against the waves, jolting and jerking, the spray of the ocean salty and cold.

  “I think we’re about to go back in time.” I said. “Eighty-eight miles per hour.”

  “This ain’t no DeLorean. More like a landing craft.”

  “Must be popular. I booked the last of the rooms.”

  “Room or rooms?”

  “Room actually. There was only one left.”

  Tom didn’t answer, but I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing.

  “Jo Baker room. I saw it as a sign.”

  “A sign for what?”

  “You don’t know Josephine Baker? She was like the Beyoncé of the 1930s. I learnt all about her at AMDA. I thought you said you did American Studies?”

  “Please tell me that is a pub.” Tom pointed ahead, a row of white houses, separate from the hotel. “You do realize I’m never leaving this place?”

  “What’s the date on the wall?”

  “1336, I think,” he said as we both squinted.

  “You’ve better eyesight than me, Tom.”

  “How blind are you without your glasses?”

  “How do you know I wear glasses? I guess you’ve seen me in the house haven’t you? Am I allowed a
ny secrets these days?”

  “I won’t tell anyone, promise. Your poor visual perception is safe with me.” He nudged my shoulder as the tractor made its way upwards towards the hotel, as tyre finally hit concrete.

  “Now that’s one impressive gate.” Tom helped me down the steps. “You look relieved?” as I jumped off the tractor.

  “I prefer dry land. Hence why I don’t fly or sail well.”

  “We nearly rented an apartment in Wiltshire Boulevard once.” He inspected the railings of the gate. “Couldn’t afford it, obviously.”

  “Where did you live in LA?”

  “Somewhere far less Art Deco than this, put it that way.”

  The staff were already there to greet us, uniformed and polite as they helped take our luggage upward towards the entrance.

  “Have you turned all 1930s yet?” he asked as we got closer to the hotel. “Tommy guns and pin curls.”

  “There is a strong chance I may talk like Judy Garland from now on.”

  “Well, Dorothy Gale,” he said as they opened the door to polished parquet and wallpaper of shells, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

  He was right.

  Black and white was for somewhere else. Tonight would be Technicolor.

  16

  “This is very me, Tom. Very me,” she said taking in the view.

  “Sure, beats my mum’s duck pond.”

  “How pretty is our little cove? Our own secret beach. No chance of paparazzi round here.” Lilly flopped herself on the bed, arms out like a starfish. “Have you read The Beach? Or seen the movie? Di Caprio was hot in that, he’s hot in most things. Actually, don’t answer that. You’ve properly been there yourself, haven’t you? You’ve been everywhere. Bet you’ve been to that island, properly killed a shark too, lived in a hut and lost your mind.”

  I didn’t answer. She knew my response already.

  “Does the island really have a field of marijuana on it?”

  “No and believe me I searched for it.” I looked out across the cove from the balcony. “Reminds me of Maya Bay. How long we got till dinner?”

  “Not that long at all,” she said, checking her watch.

  “How we doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “The whole sharing-a-room thing.” I picked up a magazine from off the side, pretended I was cool and collected.