by Viva Jones
‘I made a mistake,’ she admitted tearfully.
‘You’re telling me. Sex parties with Russians?’
‘Dolores wanted me to. I didn’t realise they were going to turn out like that. And when I stopped, because I wasn’t happy doing it, she dropped me like a stone, and then she sold her story.’
‘They ate fruit off of your body?’
Tanya just wept. ‘What are we going to do?’ she asked, her voice wavering.
Marinos sighed. ‘I can’t see you no more, Tan. I’ll never hear the end of it. In the dressing room, on the terraces, they’ll all use it against me.’
Marinos’s phone rang again. It was his mother, and she was livid. And if there was one person in the world Marinos was afraid of, more even than his manager, it was his mum.
‘Look, I think you’d better go now,’ he said, once he’d hung up. ‘My agent’s going to issue a statement saying we’re finished.’
‘But I thought - ‘ Tanya’s tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘I love you, Marinos.’
‘Look, I really like you, too, and that, but, I’m sorry, it’s not going to work. We’re from different backgrounds, anyway, and this kind of scandal, well, it’s the last thing I need, innit.’
‘But you were so keen! Can’t we get through this?’
‘They’ll crucify me on the pitch. I’ll be about to kick the ball and twenty thousand fans will start chanting about whipped cream and strawberries. I’m sorry, Tanya, but I can’t do it.’
He got up and left the room. When he returned, he put some money on the table in front of her. ‘This should pay for your fare home, and a bit more.’
‘I don’t want your money,’ Tanya blurted out.
Marinos looked at her coldly. ‘Oh no?’ he said.
Tanya packed her things quickly. She couldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted. One day he’d regret what he’d done, she told herself. She’d go to her mum’s. Her parents would be there for her, even if Marinos wasn’t.
‘I’ll be off then,’ she said in the living room doorway, as Marinos smouldered on his leather sofa. ‘I’m sorry. It was just a stupid mistake, and it only got out because I wanted to stop.’
He said nothing, and as much as she longed to throw herself at his mercy, to kiss his feet and beg him to let her stay, Tanya turned and walked down the stairs with as much dignity as she could muster. She’d already called herself a taxi to the station. As she opened the door a flashbulb stung her eyes, and she realised there were photographers and journalists outside, waiting for her. She pushed her head down, relieved that despite the cloudy sky, she’d remembered to wear her new Gucci sunglasses. Then she put on a sulky pout and made for the waiting cab.
‘Tanya, love, is it true about the Russian clients?’
‘Tanya, have you and Marinos broken up?’
‘Tanya, do you have any comments to make on the story?’
‘Tanya, would you consider posing nude for Playboy?’
At that, Tanya’s ears pricked up. Suddenly a glint of sun pierced the grey sky overhead. She got in the cab and gave the driver some quick instructions. Maybe it wasn’t all over for her after all. Of course, there was always life after scandal! There would be her side of the story, that must be worth a few thousand, and then her revelations about life with Marinos. After that, the whole world lay open to her - modelling shoots, Celebrity Big Brother, night club openings, other footballers, even. What Tanya needed now was a publicity agent. But how to get hold of Max Clifford?
Suddenly, her tears turned to excitement. As Marinos had closed his door to her, so a much bigger, more exciting one had opened.
Tanya touched up her lip gloss, and began to see the future.
***
Nathalie had just finished her yoga when Douglas visited. He was looking paler than usual, with his arm in a sling, and he lacked his usual swagger.
‘Just wanted to tell you you’ve won,’ he said, standing in her doorway.
‘I don’t follow.’
‘The battle. I’m moving to Tuscany, for a few months, anyway. I’ll see how it works out, but my daughter’s insisting. She’s over here right now. Says she doesn’t trust me by myself, and that if I’m determined to carry on doing dangerous sports, as she puts it, then at the very least I should be doing them closer to her.’
‘It must have been frightening for her, hearing about you like that.’
‘So she says. And she’s like a bulldozer once she gets something in her head. She’s already looked into removals companies and handed my house over to Odyssey for next year’s summer rentals. That should cover my costs and provide a little income. Apparently I’ll get my own flat and total independence if I want it, but the family will be there if and when I need them.’
‘It sounds ideal.’
He didn’t look so sure. ‘If it doesn’t work out I can always come back. But I suppose one should never be frightened of change.’
‘And let’s face it, you had made a few enemies.’
‘And friends,’ he added quickly. ‘But congratulations. I could have lived without the accident, thank you very much, but it worked. You got me out of your life.’
‘I learnt from the master.’
‘Pity.’ Douglas sighed, looking around the complex. ‘I was beginning to think the future was looking very bright indeed.’
‘There was never going to be a future.’
He nodded, and Nathalie thought he looked hurt. ‘Well, I’d better get on. She’ll have lunch waiting for me soon and I’m not allowed to be late.’
He leant forward and gave Nathalie a peck on the cheek, and then held himself there, momentarily enjoying the scent of her skin, and the rosemary in her hair. Then he remembered something. ‘I never did pay you back, did I? For saving my life, that time on the sea front.’
‘You don’t owe me anything.’
She watched him leave, striding briskly towards his own house, determined not to betray any of the physical pain he was feeling. Instinctively she touched her stomach. He’d paid her back, all right. She was quite sure it was Douglas who had given her the one thing that was missing in her life. She’d been wondering whether to tell him, but feared complicating matters further. Perhaps nearer the time, she told herself. She still had a few months left.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The sea was considerably colder these days. Nathalie noticed it more each morning, but couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning her ritual, even if it was becoming painful. She slipped out of her sarong and the cotton jumper she’d slung on to ward off the dawn chills, and stepped hesitantly into the water. The cold was almost unbearable, stinging her skin. She stood a few minutes, willing her legs to acclimatise. Eventually, they did, and she stepped out further, trying not to cry out loud as the cold hit her thighs, then her hips, then her slowly protruding stomach. She willed herself to plunge in and swim as far out as she dared.
This was the last time, she decided, forcing herself in deeper.
She swam out, feeling first warm and then colder pockets of water as she went. After a few minutes the water started to soothe her, and she thought perhaps that she could face another few days. When the rain came, taking the temperature down several degrees, then she would stop.
How different her life was becoming, Nathalie thought. All around her there was change. She and Anna had said their goodbyes earlier that week. They’d hugged and kissed fondly like old friends, and agreed to stay in touch, although Nathalie doubted that either would.
‘I’ll always appreciate what you did for us,’ Anna told her. ‘It was mad, when you think about it, wasn’t it? Us: you and me, you, me and Richard. God! It felt so right at the time but, what strange, summer forces were coming over me? I was out of control, following some instinct, some visceral, crazed desire.’
‘Did you hear me complaining?’
Anna giggled. ‘I see Ginnie’s chap’s moving in,’ she said, looking out of the window to where Demetrius was carrying a box into number three.
‘He seems like a lovely man.’
‘Nice that you can find love at her age. Gives hope to everyone. It’s going to be so different here, isn’t it? No Douglas, no Tanya.’
‘It’ll be different in many ways,’ Nathalie had agreed, without elaborating.
She flipped onto her back and floated, her head partially submerged until all she could hear was the sound of her own breath. Placing a protective hand on her stomach, she imagined it swelling and swelling until it seemed to take over her body entirely. This thing happened to millions of women the world over, she told herself, but that didn’t make it feel any less miraculous or extraordinary to her.
Technically the baby could have been fathered by either Michel or Richard, but Nathalie knew neither to be the case. To think they had the combined ages of a hundred and four, yet still they were capable of creating new life. Her own little Eros - although his father could hardly claim to be Adonis, even if he was done in by a wild boar in the end.
They’d have a good life together, her and her little boy. And he’d grow up knowing what it was like to swim in the sea and play on the streets and eat fruit picked off the trees and bread fresh from the bakery. Theirs would be a simple life, but a happy one, of that she was certain. Whether his father would get involved or not, she hadn’t decided. None of that seemed to matter at the moment. He had a right to know, of course, just as she had the right to choose when to tell him. And although a part of her jealously wanted to keep her child to herself, Nathalie knew that she’d end up doing what was for the best.
‘Mummy, I’m getting cold,’ a little voice said, and there he was, floating beside her. ‘Can we get out now?’
‘Of course we can,’ she told him gently, before flipping onto her stomach, and beginning her steady swim back to shore.
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