Something about the girl’s words made Jack’s heart pang. There was a time, not so long ago, when he’d have said the same thing to his own best friend. He glanced at Eve’s sulky face and sighed. Why was he settling for a girl he already knew wasn’t right for him? Had he become so shallow and spoilt, so used to the money and the big house, that he’d sold his soul for a red Ferrari and a wardrobe full of Prada suits? No. He wasn’t going to do that. It was time for Jack to get real. Something told him he was heading for a break-up any day now. But he guessed he’d have to wait until they got back from France. Just one more weekend. Surely he could get through one more weekend.
Then the blonde stood up from her chair and, as she turned towards Jack, he had to catch his breath. She was a work of art. Perfection. If Jack had been given a ‘build your perfect physical specimen’ kit, he couldn’t have dreamt up such a beautiful girl. She glanced at him, just for a moment, and the tiniest smile played on her lips. Then she stole her gaze away from him again. His stomach did a somersault and he found himself swallowing hard. Her huge eyes were the palest, purest blue imaginable. Her skin was like porcelain. Her lips were full and wide and her… Oh Jesus Christ! Her body! He couldn’t help staring at the low-cut dress and the bright blue bra underneath. Her breasts seemed to be fighting with the fabric – and winning! Glorious flesh spilled out over of the top of the dress and wobbled wonderfully as the girl made her way towards the Ladies. Jack’s cheeks burned. Wow! How could he not watch and admire? He was only a man after all.
Suddenly he became aware that someone was watching him watching the girl. He reluctantly dragged his eyes away and his gaze met that of her best friend. It was a very subtle, but well-practised look she gave him, as if she had had to give this “warning” a thousand times before to men who were staring at her beautiful friend. She narrowed her eyes with a steely glint and shook her head just a smidgeon. Jack had been told to back off. He couldn’t blame the brunette for her reaction. In fact he admired her loyalty. It mustn’t look good. There he was sitting with his girlfriend and he was ogling another woman. But this was not the way he normally reacted to pretty girls. This was different. Jack was anything but a sleaze or a letch. Something strange in the way his heart ached made him wonder if he’d just laid eyes on the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. Just his luck to finally find her in an airport, when they were probably about to fly off in opposite directions, never to meet again. And worse, he was with Eve, who he had finally realised was about to become his ex girlfriend. God, life sucked sometimes. Jack watched the girl’s back disappear out of view with a wistful sigh.
Bang! Eve’s fist hit the table, spilling the champagne and making Jack jump.
‘First the check-in girl, now some trollope with dirty shoes, tangled hair and her tits hanging out for the whole world to see,’ she spat with venom. ‘Nice Jack. Really classy. I’m so glad you have such exceptional taste. It makes me feel really appreciated.’
‘What?’ he asked, guiltily, knowing that this time, unlike with the check-in girl, he had been having impure thoughts about another woman.
‘Do you think I’m blind? Stupid?’ demanded Eve, with real tears starting to well up in her eyes now. ‘I saw you staring at that slut with your tongue hanging out. Well, if you want to eat a cheap burger when you’ve got fillet steak on your plate, that’s fine. I won’t stick around to be insulted. I should have known that a guy like you wasn’t good enough for me. You can take the boy out of the slums but…’
‘I don’t really think you can call Keynsham a slum exactly…’ he tried to lighten the mood with a spot of humour.
But it was too late. Eve got up and left the table.
‘I’m going to Duty Free,’ she muttered.
When in doubt, go shopping, was always Eve’s mantra.
Jack stared at his drink with his cheeks burning, hoping that nobody had witnessed the scene. He peeked over at the next table and saw the brunette glaring at him. He shot her a bashful smile and shrugged. She laughed, without humour, and shook her head more defiantly this time. She was not amused. She clearly thought he was a sleaze too. Jack went back to his champagne. He wondered how many times the blonde bombshell had caused couples to argue in public. He wondered how it would feel to go out with a girl like that. Would he feel threatened by the fact that every man wanted her? Would he try to keep her away from the spotlight? Hide her in his pocket where nobody could steal her away? And then he thought about the way her best friend protected her from the attention without muting her or criticising her, and he realised that she had it right. There was no way of fighting against such natural beauty and joie de vivre. If he was ever lucky enough to have a girl like that he would protect her, value her, worship her. He would never try to crush something so precious. No one could ever dim such a bright light. And why would they want to? She didn’t want a little life. And Jack felt sure she would never have one. If only he could feel the same about himself.
He was reunited with Eve on the plane. Or sort of, at least. They sat side-by-side in their first class seats, wearing separate headphones, watching separate films, without sharing a word. He wondered where the blonde girl had flown off to. He had rarely felt as lonely in his life. At the airport in Nice Eve, spoke once, to order Jack to fetch her case from the carousel, while she went straight through to the arrivals lounge to find out about their pre-arranged limo to Juan les Pins. Jack loved the South of France but right now he wished he was anywhere but here. Luckily Eve’s enormous case was one of the first to appear. He spotted the familiar brown, logo-ed Louise Vuitton suitcase from a mile away, grabbed it and with a heavy heart, he pulled it through customs. For the first time in his life, he wished the gendarmes would pull him over and search the case. Anything to put off having to spend three days alone with Eve.
*
The carousel went round and round and round. The girls watched the same cases appear and reappear patiently.
‘Sorry,’ said Lara, eventually. ‘Maybe I should have brought carry-on luggage like you. We could have been at the hotel by now.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Tash. ‘I’m sure it’ll turn up.’
But Lara’s case did not turn up. They stayed at the carousel until they were the only two passengers left waiting and the only case still going round and round on its lonely journey was a real Louis Vuitton suitcase. Finally Tash said what they were both thinking.
‘You don’t think the owner of that case took yours by accident, do you?’ she asked.
Lara scrunched up her nose and shook her head.
‘Nobody who actually owns a real Louis Vuitton would mistakenly pick up my plastic tat… Would they?’
They let the case go round one more time. It was getting late. Because of the delay, they hadn’t landed until well after nine. Now it was almost 10pm. And then suddenly Lara leant forward and grabbed the case.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Tash. ‘You know that’s not yours.’
‘I know,’ said Lara, grinning. ‘But they’ve obviously borrowed my case. Why can’t I borrow theirs?’
‘Lara!’ scolded Tash. ‘If someone has taken your suitcase, they’ve done it by accident. It doesn’t mean you can just help yourself to theirs instead. Come on, let’s go to lost property and clear this up.’
‘Ferme,’ announced Lara, cheerfully, as she read the sign on the locked door. ‘Doesn’t open again until the morning. Ah well, never mind, I might as well take this one until tomorrow.’
Tash stood her ground.
‘No,’ she warned Lara. ‘No. This does not feel right. You should leave that case there, we’ll go to the hotel and go to bed. You can borrow my clothes in the morning and we’ll come back to the airport and sort this mess out. I’m sure whoever has your case is less than impressed by their mistake. They’ll bring it back the moment they realise what’s happened. They’ll be gutted. I mean, can you imagine what sort of gear is in a case like this? Lara’s face was alight w
ith excitement as she stroked the leather suitcase and nodded enthusiastically.
‘Exactly!’ she said. ‘And we can borrow it for one night only. One night on the Cote D’Azur. It’s like a dream come true.’
‘No Lara, it’s a recipe for disaster. You have no idea what’s in that suitcase. There could be a bomb in there for all you know.’
‘Or a load of designer dresses,’ mused Lara. ‘I think I’ll take the risk.’
And off she skipped, pulling the real Louis Vuitton suitcase, with Tash trailing behind her forlornly.
‘No dramas, no dramas, I prayed for no dramas,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Why does stuff like this always happen with Lara?’
*
Eve’s screams could be heard as far away as St Tropez. Her tantrum had been going on for half an hour now. Jack put his hands over his ears and pleaded, ‘Stop Eve. Please. Stop screaming. I’m sorry, OK? It was an easy mistake to make. It looks exactly the same as your suitcase.’
Eve’s eyes were flashing with rage. She pointed at the offending item, sitting on the bedroom floor. ‘That does not look ANYTHING like my suitcase!’ she continued to scream.
‘What sort of uncultured moron are you, Jack? You mistook a £4000 suitcase for a bit of crap that must have cost a couple of quid in a market somewhere in Asia. I should have listened to Daddy. He told me you weren’t good enough for me! He said you’d drag me down. Well, now look what you’ve done. How can I go out now? We’re supposed to be meeting Lucinda and Giles for drinks in Antibes tonight. You know how immaculately dressed Lucinda always is. How can I compete when I have nothing to wear? Go back to the airport and get my suitcase NOW!’
‘I’ve told you. I’ve already called. There’s nothing we can do until the morning. There’s obviously been some sort of mix up but I’ll sort it out first thing, I promise.’
‘But what am I supposed to do tonight?’ she yelled. ‘It’s a disaster. I have nothing to wear. No shoes. No make-up. No jewellery.’
‘You’re already wearing shoes, make-up and jewellery,’ Jack reminded her. ‘And a very beautiful Pucci dress. Why can’t you just go like that?’
Eve took off her blue wedged sandal and hurled it at Jack’s head. He ducked just in time to save himself but the mirror on the wall behind him wasn’t so lucky.
‘And now look what you’ve done!’ she screamed. ‘You’ve broken the mirror. I hate you! I hate you! You’ve ruined my life!’
Jack sighed deeply and counted to ten in his head. There was no point in arguing. If he’d had any doubt that the relationship was over before they arrived in France, he certainly had no doubts now. Eve was vile. Spoilt, selfish, ridiculous and vile. Sometimes, when the scales finally fell, they fell fast.
‘What about this?’ he suggested, handing her black chiffon kaftan from the wardrobe that she’d left here last summer. ‘This is nice.’
‘Nice?’ she wept. ‘It’s horrible. And anyway, it’s beachwear and any idiot can see that it is LAST SEASON.’
Jack stared at Eve for the longest time. She was a stunning girl, but when she cried she looked ugly and mean. Her tears were always for herself. It was as if when she cried, she got the face she deserved.
‘I’m going out for some air,’ said Jack quietly.
‘Where are you going?’ she demanded. ‘You’re not going anywhere. What about Lucinda and Giles?’
‘Screw Lucinda and Giles,’ replied Jack. ‘They’re boring, pompous idiots. I’ve never liked them.’
And then he calmly walked out of the room, and the villa, and helped himself to the yellow Lamborghini cabriolet in the garage. As he drove onto the gravelled drive, a pair of shutters flew open on the first floor of the grand villa.
‘Don’t you dare leave me Jack!’ yelled Eve from the balcony. ‘Don’t you dare! Nobody walks out on me, do you hear me? No one!’
‘Watch me,’ said Jack to himself as he sped off down the drive and away from the screeching hyena.
He had absolutely no idea where he was headed. All he knew was that he had to get as much distance between himself and Eve as was humanly possible. He would not be her plaything any longer. He was a free spirit. His own man.
*
‘Where did you learn to do that?’ asked Tash as Lara skilfully broke into the lock of the suitcase.
The girls were in the tiny room of their modest three-star hotel, halfway between the train station and the Promenade des Anglais.
‘Jimmy,’ she replied innocently, listening for the click of the lock as she found the right combination of numbers. ‘You remember Jimmy, right?’
‘Jailbird Jimmy?’ asked Tash. ‘The one your dad chased across The Downs after he tried to hotwire his car?’
‘That’s the one,’ confirmed Lara. ‘He was a sweetie really. He had a bit of a problem with authority but he could recite Dylan Thomas perfectly after a couple of ciders.’
Tash shook her head in disbelief. Only Lara would find something good to say about Jimmy. The last Tash had heard he was inside doing fifteen years for armed robbery.
‘Voila!’ announced Lara finally, taking off the lock and throwing open the suitcase.
Lara’s eyes sparkled, she stared at the open suitcase in awe, like Aladdin in the robber’s cave.
‘Take a look at this lot,’ she said, picking up neatly rolled dresses, diamond necklaces, real silk underwear and endless pairs of Jimmy Choos. ‘What are you going to wear Tash?’
‘My own clothes,’ retorted Tash. ‘We can’t wear her clothes, Lara. This is nuts. It’s theft.’
‘It’s borrowing,’ insisted Lara. ‘She has my clothes, I have hers. It’s fair.’
Tash picked up an exquisite Versace gold dress and said, ‘Whatever this is, it is certainly not fair. You definitely got the best deal.’
‘Ooh, I’m going to wear that one,’ said Lara, taking the gold dress from Tash. ‘Do you think my boobs will squeeze in? Posh girls never have any boobs. Have you noticed that? It’s weird. As if they’ve bred out breasts in the gene pool. Maybe they didn’t need them because they fed their babies with wet nurses.’
‘You say the weirdest things,’ said Tash, tentatively fingering the contents of the case and finding herself strangely drawn to an emerald green Issa halter neck.
‘Where are we going all dressed up like this anyway?’ she asked.
‘Monaco,’ said Lara, matter-of-factly. ‘The train doesn’t take long. I’ve checked the timetable. If we hurry we’ll catch the last one.’
‘And how will we get back?’ asked Tash sensibly. ‘If we’re getting the last train to Monaco, I’m assuming we won’t be making the last train back to Nice any time tonight.’
‘I don’t know,’ shrugged Lara. ‘They start up again pretty early in the morning. We’ll just have to stay up partying all night.’
Tash sighed and nodded. There was no point in arguing with Lara when she had a plan for an adventure. Why did the Gods never listen to her when she prayed for peace and quiet?
Lara was right, the train from Nice to Monaco barely took twenty minutes. By 11.30pm, they found themselves outside a bar at the harbour, surrounded by rows of Ferraris, glamorous people who practically jangled with money, and yachts so huge that they looked like cross-channel ferries.
‘This is bonkers,’ whispered Tash to Lara, holding her arm for support as she wobbled on the borrowed Jimmy Choo stilettos. ‘That yacht has three floors, a lift, a swimming pool and a Bentley parked on board. We don’t belong here.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ laughed Lara. ‘Of course we do. And we have the designer dresses and handbags to prove it. Tonight, Cinderella and Cinderella will go to the ball.’
‘How will we get in?’ asked Tash, eyeing the long queue outside the nightclub nervously.
‘Like this,’ replied Lara, grabbing Tash’s hand and strutting her stuff straight up to the front of the queue.
In Bristol, wearing her normal clothes, Lara looked incredibly beautiful and sexy. She always s
tood out from the crowd. But in a gold Versace gown? In Monaco? On a hot, starry night in June? It was as if Grace Kelly had risen from the dead. Tash felt a little self-conscious, wearing another woman’s clothes. Especially ones so much more expensive than her own. But not Lara. The gold dress looked as if it had been made for her and then sewn onto her body. It was as if she was finally wearing her own skin. The bouncer nodded and smiled at Lara as if he recognised her, lifted the rope and let the girls walk straight in. Tash giggled, overcome with a feeling of nerves, excitement and anticipation that she only ever got when she was with Lara.
‘What now?’ she asked, taking in the crowd.
She had never seen so many beautiful people in one place at one time before. The air hung heavy with the weight of wealth and excess.
‘Now we have a cocktail,’ said Lara, working it all the way to the bar as heads turned all around.
Even here, surrounded by The Beautiful People, Lara shined the brightest.
‘Is that Lewis Hamilton?’ asked Tash, excitedly, spotting the Formula One star, talking to a glamorous brunette in a white short suit.
‘Yes, of course it is, but don’t stare Tash. Be cool. Remember, we come to places like this all the time,’ teased Lara.
‘Of course we do,’ replied Tash. ‘But I don’t know how we’re going to get a cocktail. Have you seen the prices?’ She handed Lara the drinks menu. The cheapest cocktail was 45 Euros.
‘Not a problem,’ said Lara nonchalantly, tossing her golden mane over her bare shoulders and licking her lips thoughtfully.
She glanced around quickly, leant forward against the glass bar, so that her captive audience were rewarded with a splendid view of her magnificent cleavage, and innocently asked the handsome young man standing next to her if he could please recommend a cocktail she might enjoy, and by the way, wasn’t that a lovely vintage Cartier watch, and didn’t he have strong arms. Three minutes later Tash and Lara were sipping Cosmopolitans, kindly bought for them by Magnus and his friend Luke, a yacht broker and a hedge fund manager respectively, who both lived and worked in Monte Carlo. One Cosmopolitan turned into another and another. Then the cocktails turned into champagne. And at somewhere along the line Magnus and Luke turned into Adam, Jacques, Christian, James, Ricardo, Piers… or at least they multiplied into them, because Tash was pretty sure that Magnus and Luke were still there somewhere, fighting for Lara’s attention. At some point during the night Tash’s memory blanked out all together. But she distinctively remembered seeing Lara, dancing on the helm of a yacht, barefoot under the stars just before she passed out. Her friend’s gold dress shimmered in the moonlight and Tash had to pinch herself just to be sure that any of it was real. And then it was gone.
SUNLOUNGER 2: Beach Read Bliss (Sunlounger Stories) Page 3