by Mandy Baggot
‘How long have you and Nick been dating?’ she continued, getting a pen and pad out of her bag and beginning to jot on it.
‘We aren’t dating. Look, I’m a nobody. I’m just here on holiday. I have nothing to say to anyone about anything. I just want to get back to my apartment,’ Freya stated angrily.
‘Nobodies don’t get invited up onto Nicholas Kaden’s motor cruiser,’ Sandra McNeill commented.
‘It’s just a prop,’ Freya responded with a smile.
‘It was a prop, but he liked it so much he bought it. He did the same with the villa. He loves this village, but I’m sure you already knew that Miss…’ Sandra continued.
‘No, I didn’t know that. Which goes to show you know far more about him than I do. I really have nothing to tell you unless…’
Freya’s mind was working overtime. This time tomorrow she might have a great deal to tell Shooting Stars magazine, about Nicholas Kaden dating her for a bet organised by Gene Bates and Bob Crosby. How all three Hollywood stars had tried to make her a laughing stock. That should give the film some unwanted publicity and make the millions set to watch it think twice about the morals of its stars.
‘Could I take your number?’ Freya asked her, getting her mobile phone out.
Eleven
With Sandra McNeill’s number saved into her phone Freya managed to get away from the masses and head up the road towards the travel agency where Emma worked. It was a small office with a glass frontage and outside there were picture boards advertising the various trips the company provided. Inside there was a desk, three chairs, a sofa and a coffee machine.
Freya entered the office quietly and was surprised to see Emma with her head down on the desk seemingly asleep.
‘Em? Are you OK?’ Freya asked as she approached the desk.
‘Oh God, oh sorry. Hi, I must have dropped off for five minutes,’ Emma said, jumping up and trying to wake herself quickly.
‘You look awful. Do you want some tablets?’ Freya asked, offering her the box in her hand.
‘No I’m OK,’ Emma insisted.
‘So is it a hangover because I’m sure I drank way more than you last night,’ Freya remarked as she sat down in the chair opposite Emma’s desk.
‘You definitely did. It’s not a hangover, I’m just tired,’ Emma answered.
‘And I don’t suppose having me here, with all my issues, is helping,’ Freya commented.
‘No it is helping. It takes my mind off things,’ Emma insisted, taking a sip from the glass of water on her desk.
‘Em, I asked you yesterday if everything was OK and you told me about money being tied up in the business and wanting your own place etc. but is there something else?’ Freya asked her seriously.
‘I’m pregnant,’ Emma stated simply.
Freya’s jaw dropped and she took a sharp breath inward.
‘Oh my God,’ Freya said before she could stop herself.
‘Yes, oh my God,’ Emma echoed.
‘No I meant “oh my God” as in the “oh my God” you would say if you were happy about something, surprised but happy. It’s great news! A baby! You’re going to have a baby!’ Freya exclaimed and she jumped up, went around the desk and took Emma by the hands. She pulled her out of her chair and they began jumping up and down like two excited schoolgirls, much to the amusement of passers-by.
‘Oh Em, this is exciting news! I’m going to be an aunty, well kind of, the nearest I’ll ever get to being one. What does Yiannis say?’ Freya asked, smiling at her friend.
‘That’s one of the problems. I haven’t been able to tell him yet. It’s just not how I planned things Freya. You know me, I'm a planner, I’ve always been a planner. I have lists of things with tick boxes for everything and I had a list for this which read “buy house”, “get married”, “have baby”. I know it’s probably an agenda everyone has, but, being a planner, my plan should have been foolproof,’ Emma spoke with a sigh.
‘So what are you saying? You haven’t told Yiannis because baby has made an appearance at position number one instead of position number three?’ Freya questioned.
‘Yes. No. Well, partly. He’s working so hard to save money so we can get a place and get married and now this is going to change everything. We’ll be even more tied to his parents than we are now,’ Emma explained.
‘But Em you’ll have a beautiful son or daughter, who will probably have Yiannis’ dark hair and your blue eyes and you are going to be a completely amazing mother,’ Freya told her.
‘Do you think so?’ Emma asked.
‘Well, put it this way, you’ve been mothering me since we met and look how I’ve turned out. OK, maybe a bad example,’ Freya replied.
‘I just wanted to do things properly you know, traditionally. It was so important to me,’ Emma spoke.
‘What’s important is that you’re having a baby with a wonderful man, who you love and who adores you,’ Freya said matter of factly.
‘I will tell Yiannis. It’s just I wish we could get married before the baby comes. I think that’s more important to me than having a place of our own. Maybe it’s my mother’s voice telling me it’s immoral to have a baby before you’re married or perhaps it’s just the traditionalist in me,’ Emma said in deep thought.
‘Then why don’t you get married before the baby comes? You must have some months to go.’
‘Seven,’ Emma told her.
‘Seven months, well there you go. Who can’t organise a wedding in seven months?’ Freya queried.
‘It isn’t the organisation, it’s the money. I don’t want to get married at the town hall. I want a church wedding with a blessing on the beach. I want a white dress with bridesmaids and fancy cars and a big party with a giant cake,’ Emma explained.
‘My parents should have swapped me for you because they would have loved all that,’ Freya replied.
‘But it’s all a dream. I can forget about that now,’ Emma said with a sigh.
‘Maybe not. How much do you think Shooting Stars magazine would pay for a really juicy story about Nicholas Kaden?’ Freya asked her.
‘What sort of story?’ Emma asked.
‘How he and his co-stars got involved in “Betting for Bedding”,’ Freya told her with a smirk.
‘You wouldn’t?! Sell the story to a magazine? That would seriously tarnish his image,’ Emma told her.
‘But it would also buy some serious wedding cake. How do you fancy four tiers? Chocolate? Coffee? Something fruity?’ Freya asked her.
‘I think you’re the best friend a girl could wish for,’ Emma concluded and she put her arms around Freya and hugged her.
‘Right back at you,’ Freya replied, holding Emma tight.
Twelve
‘I don’t know what to wear,’ Freya spoke into her mobile phone that night.
She was sat on her bed in her room at the Calypso Apartments with her entire selection of clothes from Agatha’s boutique strewn around her. She had been trying to decide what to wear for almost an hour.
‘Does it matter? I mean the guy’s a loser remember? He’s dating you as some stupid game with his stupid friends,’ Emma’s voice answered.
‘Yeah I know. I just - I’m a bit worried about the photographers. You know, having my picture taken. There were people taking photos at the harbour today and I had to bury my face in my sunhat,’ Freya spoke nervously.
‘Oh God, yes, I hadn’t even thought. Well your hair is very different and in that case I think you should wear the red outfit. The one with the bandeau top and wide leg trousers,’ Emma stated.
‘Because then everyone will be focussing on my bust rather than my face, or trying to work out why Kellogg’s have chosen a size twenty to advertise Special K. Good idea!’ Freya replied.
‘And the black shoes and bag, not the gold,’ Emma added.
‘Got you. OK, thanks. Well I have twenty minutes to finish getting ready so I’d better go. I’m bloody starving,’ Freya admitted.
; ‘Good. That means you’ll be able to eat him out of pocket. Have two starters or better than that, have a meze all to yourself,’ Emma suggested.
‘You are full of good ideas tonight. So did you brief Zorba and Lorraine?’ Freya checked.
‘All briefed and ready to go and I had a word with Samos too, because I presumed you’d be dropping into the kebab shop for a gyros to end the evening,’ Emma replied.
‘If he manages to hold out that long,’ Freya responded.
‘Well good luck and I want a full run down of events first thing tomorrow,’ Emma told her.
‘It goes without saying and don’t you go working too hard at that restaurant tonight. Rest is important you know,’ Freya told her.
‘I know, stop worrying. You’re the one who’s mothering me now!’ Emma declared.
‘Perhaps I should have done it earlier. We could have had a contraception talk,’ Freya joked.
‘You’re not funny. Go on, get dressed and get on with the date,’ Emma ordered.
‘OK, I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye,’ Freya spoke and ended the call.
Red top and trousers it was. Freya put the outfit on, brushed her hair, added a hairclip and cleaned her glasses. She looked fine. She still looked size twenty but she looked a well groomed size twenty.
It was nearly 9.00pm so Freya made her way downstairs and out into the pool complex where the bar was situated. Or should that have been where the bar was usually situated. The bar had disappeared. The reason she could no longer see it was because a crowd of people, four or five deep, were stood around it. Freya knew it wasn’t a queue to be served and could only assume that Nicholas was in the middle of the crowd.
Before she could move any further towards the bar Roger the bodyguard appeared, took her arm and guided her in the opposite direction, towards the back gate of the apartments.
‘What’s happening?’ Freya demanded to know when Roger had finally stopped shepherding her and they were outside the grounds.
‘Nick apologises. It got kind of crazy while he was waiting for you. He’s just going to sign these autographs and then meet you in the car,’ Roger explained.
‘Car? What car?’ Freya enquired.
‘This car M’am,’ Roger answered.
Freya looked up the road to see a black Mercedes with privacy glass heading towards them.
‘What is going on?’ Freya demanded to know as the car pulled up in front of them.
‘If you could just wait inside M’am, to avoid any unwanted attention,’ Roger spoke as he opened the back door for her.
‘I’m not getting in there. For all I know it could drive off and I’d end up in the bottom of the Aegean with a plastic sack over my head. This was not the arrangement. I was supposed to be organising the night,’ Freya exclaimed and she slammed the door shut.
‘Nick said you might be a little reluctant. I’ll just call him on his cell,’ Roger spoke and he reached in his pocket for his mobile phone.
‘Let me speak to him the minute he answers,’ Freya ordered, getting madder by the second.
She didn’t know what to do now. How was she going to make him have a hellish evening if he was calling all the shots? She had been planning this all day. How dare he take over!
‘Nick, we’re having a bit of trouble with the car thing, like you said. What would you like me to do?’ Roger politely spoke into the phone.
‘Give me that! Now you listen here - what the Hell is going on?! You only saw me this morning; you didn’t mention a car then. What is happening?’ Freya yelled into the phone.
‘I hadn’t organised the car then. It was an idea I had on the boat today when I was thinking about surprising you with something,’ Nicholas’ voice replied.
‘I don’t like surprises.’
‘Oh come on, all women love surprises,’ Nicholas answered.
‘Not this one. Look I am not getting in this car until you tell me where we’re going,’ Freya ordered.
‘OK, so if I tell you where we’re going you’ll get in the car?’ Nicholas asked.
‘Seeing as I’m now being hounded by photographers and the bar of my apartments has become a meeting place for your groupies, I don’t think I have much choice,’ Freya replied.
‘I love it when you’re feisty,’ he said.
‘Where are we going?’ Freya repeated.
‘Two minutes out of the village, Harry’s Place, do you know it?’
‘Harry’s Place? Do I know it? I used to work there,’ Freya told him with satisfaction.
‘I know, I was just kidding with you. Harry told me you helped him out there. He’s a nice guy. Did you know there’s still a photo of you on the wall - great specs,’ Nicholas continued.
‘Fine, we’ll go to Harry’s Place. I’ll get in the damn car, but you’d better not be long because I am a whisker away from changing my mind,’ Freya replied.
‘I just love all your English expressions. “A whisker away”, I really must try and sneak that into a script,’ he responded.
Freya ignored his comment and handed the mobile phone back to Roger. She folded her arms across her chest in annoyance. What was she going to do? All her plans had gone to waste. Gyros was the only thing she might still be able to accomplish. It was a disaster.
‘Yes, uh huh. Yes I will make sure she gets in the damn car,’ Roger spoke into the phone, much to Freya’s irritation.
He ended the call and opened the back door of the car for the second time.
‘M’am,’ he spoke, inviting her to get in.
‘No offence to your perfect manners Roger, but call me Freya. M’am makes me sound like the First Lady,’ Freya spoke and she got into the car.
‘I will try to remember that,’ Roger replied and he shut the door behind her.
Leather seats, an in-car DVD system, drinks cabinet and multicoloured mood lights made the car more of a house on wheels. It didn’t impress Freya, but that didn’t stop her wanting to press all the buttons. She chose the button in the centre of the cherry veneer panel and suddenly the speakers vibrated loudly and the whole car was filled with the sound of Barry White.
Freya panicked. She couldn’t get it to stop no matter which button she tried. It was so loud it was hurting her ears. She had no choice but to bang on the dividing screen in the hope of assistance.
Roger’s face appeared and before she had a chance to say anything he shouted to her.
‘Square button on the door to stop and the dial for volume control.’
Freya hurriedly turned down the music to a more subtle level.
‘And if I’ve had enough of Barry White?’ Freya enquired.
‘Can you ever have too much of the Walrus of Love?’ Roger asked her.
‘I’ve lasted a minute or so and believe me I’m all Barryed out,’ Freya replied.
‘Flip open the panel in front of you and there is a list of CDs to select from,’ Roger informed her.
‘Got any 50 Cent?’ Freya asked him with a grin.
‘Most probably,’ he responded and the dividing screen slid back into position again.
Freya, feeling rebellious, selected Guns ‘n’ Roses and opened the drinks cabinet. There was a wide selection of wines, beers and spirits and Freya chose a brandy. She unscrewed the bottle and took a swig.
The back door opened suddenly and Nicholas slipped into the seat beside her. He was wearing khaki coloured linen trousers and a beige linen shirt with brown leather sandals. It was a smart, yet casual outfit and Freya noted that he was wearing a rather fragrant aftershave that her nose did not disapprove of.
‘Starting without me? Pass me a Jack Daniels,’ Nicholas said to her, noticing the small bottle of brandy in her hand.
‘Here. The measures are too small by the way. You should complain,’ Freya responded, finishing up her drink and passing him one.
‘You’re right, but I usually have two. OK Mikey, let’s go,’ Nicholas spoke, pressing the intercom which connected to the front of the car.
&
nbsp; ‘I’m still mad by the way,’ Freya stated as the car set off.
‘I expected nothing less. Guns ‘n’ Roses, good choice,’ Nicholas commented with a nod.
Thirteen
It took no more than five minutes to arrive at Harry’s Place as it was only a mile out of the village. The car pulled up outside and Freya went to get out. Nicholas touched her arm to stop her.
‘Hang on. Let a guy do things properly,’ he spoke, opening his door.
‘You aren’t going to hold the door open for me are you?’ Freya exclaimed with a laugh.
‘And what if I am?’
‘This is the twenty first century. You don’t need to do that any more. The world is so over Charles Dickens or didn’t you know?’ Freya continued.
‘Well Dickensian or not I like to treat a lady properly, so you will sit there and let me do this,’ Nicholas insisted.
Freya didn’t reply. She knew he was trying to charm her and she couldn’t help but wonder whether he treated all the women he dated to this performance, or just the ones he took bets on.
Nicholas opened the door and took her hand to help her out of the car.
‘Now, wasn’t that nice?’ he remarked, smiling at her.
‘Yes I feel so much more of a lady now. If only I’d remembered my silk gloves and dance card,’ Freya responded.
‘Shall we?’ Nicholas asked and he offered her his arm.
Freya took it and they headed towards the door of the restaurant.
‘Roger’s coming in with us, but he won’t sit with us. He’s very discreet, you’ll hardly notice him,’ Nicholas told her as he opened the door for her.
‘He can sit with us if he likes. He’s quite amusing,’ Freya replied.
‘So now you want to date Roger as well as Bruce Willis?’ Nicholas asked her.
‘Not at the same time obviously, because that would be rude and very unladylike,’ Freya answered.
Before Nicholas could make further comment, Harry came out to greet them in the foyer. He was a short, rotund man with grey hair and glasses and he had a smile as wide as the River Tyne.