by Paige Toon
‘You’re a bit past it now, aren’t you?’ I helpfully point out.
‘Jesus, Meg, I’m only thirty.’
‘Yeah, like I say, past it.’
He cuffs me round the top of my head gently.
‘Oi!’ I berate him. ‘You’ll mess up my hair.’
He leans across and brushes a strand away from my face.
‘Nah, it’s fine,’ he says.
I look away to the ocean and take a sip of wine, wondering why I feel shy all of a sudden.
I haven’t felt close to him since that night at the Ivy. What happened with Serengeti forced me to see him in a different light, but he’s been distant with me anyway. Okay, so he’s been busy, but I’ve felt more like an employee than I ever did during the first two weeks after I arrived. I look back at him to find he’s still watching me. Then a movement behind him makes me freeze. Three deer quietly make their way through the undergrowth to the meadow grass overlooking this part of the ocean.
‘Look!’ I whisper. He turns around to follow my gaze.
Two of the deer start at the sound of my voice, running back towards the forest from which they came, but the third, not sensing any danger, continues as he was, nibbling on grass. We watch him silently for a while, until he has his fill and disappears out of sight.
‘Wow,’ I say in awe.
Johnny looks back at me and smiles.
‘You hungry?’ he asks.
I consider his question. ‘Yeah, I am a bit. Shall I go and get some cheese and crackers?’
‘Yeah!’ he enthuses, holding out his hand to take my glass. I head off back to my room, and return laden with snacks from the fridge.
I open up the crackers and goat’s cheese and cut a slice with a small knife, handing it to him. He, meanwhile, tops up my wine.
‘So Christian’s coming tomorrow, then,’ I say.
‘What time did Davey reckon he’d make it here?’ Johnny asks.
‘Well, he said they’d set off early so I guess the afternoon sometime,’ I reply.
‘What the hell is that?’ he says suddenly, pointing down at the ocean. ‘No way…’
‘What is it?’ I ask.
‘It’s a whale,’ he says, nodding. ‘Yes, it is, it’s a blue whale.’
‘No!’
‘Seriously, look!’ He leans his head in close to me so we’re touching. I follow the line of his outstretched finger.
‘Oh my God!’ I gasp. A surge of water spouts out of the whale. Then another one follows close behind it. ‘There are two!’
‘Wow,’ he says. ‘I’ve been coming here for years and I have never seen a blue whale. They migrate at this time of year,’ he explains, glancing at me sideways.
‘Are you a bit of a nature buff?’
‘No!’ he says, shaking his head quickly.
‘You are, aren’t you?’ I tease. ‘Super-cool rock god, Johnny Jefferson, at one with nature.’
‘Meg, did you just call me a super-cool rock god?’
‘No.’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘No, you must have misheard me. I never said any such thing.’
He chuckles. ‘Give me another piece of cheese, chick.’
‘You’re going to spoil your dinner,’ I say, handing it to him and cutting myself a slice.
‘Oh, well,’ he says. ‘Chuck us those crisps.’
We sit there for another forty-five minutes, polishing off our snacks and wine until it’s time to either cancel the reservation or go to dinner.
‘Cancel it,’ Johnny decides. ‘Let’s go for a swim in the hot tub instead!’
‘Okay!’
‘We’re out of wine. You happy on white?’ he asks.
‘Yeah. You happy on red?’
‘Yeah. So you grab me your bottle of red and I’ll bring out my white. Meet you back here in five.’
We set off to our rooms. The wine has gone straight to my head, I realise, as I walk up the stairs to my Tree House. I dump the empty bottles and snack packaging and put my complimentary bottle of red wine by the door, then I dig out my bikini. I put on my white towelling guest robe and slippers and call to cancel our dinner reservation before setting off back to the spa. There are no other guests around–they’re probably all in the restaurant.
Johnny is already in the water. He’s leaning against the edge, looking down at the ocean. His arms are resting on the sides of the tub, the light from the underwater bulb casting a warm glow across his back.
He turns around, sensing me, and watches as I put his bottle of red next to my bottle of white at the side of the pool and slip my robe off.
‘I’ve just seen another whale,’ he tells me, as I walk around to the steps.
‘Have you?’ I ask, brightly. ‘God, it’s hot,’ I say as my foot hits the water.
He wades over to the other side to pour our wine, turning back to hand a glass to me once I’m submerged up to my shoulders.
‘Thanks.’
We both move back to the far side of the pool, overlooking the ocean. The sun has almost set and it’s beautiful. We watch silently for a while, my body taking to the heat. The water is as warm as a bath.
‘This is nice,’ he says, finally, letting out a deep breath.
‘It’s amazing,’ I agree. ‘Thank you for letting me come.’
‘Of course.’ He pulls a face then turns to me, chinking my glass for the second time that evening. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ I respond. ‘How are you feeling about the tour?’
‘Aah, Nutmeg, let’s not talk about work…’
‘Okay.’ I look at him sideways. ‘What do you want to talk about, then?’
‘Do you reckon I could get away with smoking in here?’
‘Well, there’s no one around…’
He gives me a cheeky wink then passes me his glass to hold while he gets out. He’s wearing just-above-knee-length dark-blue swimming trunks. He dries his hands on one of the many towels freshly washed and waiting poolside, then rummages around in his robe. He pulls out a packet of fags and lights one. His toned body is slick with water, his tattoos dark upon his tanned skin. I realise I’ve turned my back on the sunset to watch him and have to force myself to look away as he gets back into the pool.
He holds out his hand for his glass, lit cigarette hanging from his lips. Suddenly I really fancy a smoke.
‘Can I have a drag?’ I ask.
He sucks in deeply and shakes his head, frowning at me.
‘No,’ he answers, before exhaling.
‘Why not?’ I’m a little hurt.
‘You don’t smoke,’ he says.
‘I do sometimes,’ I tell him.
‘When was the last time you had a fag?’
‘I don’t know, university?’
‘Exactly. You don’t smoke,’ he says, inhaling deeply and blowing the smoke away from me.
I look away from him, annoyed.
‘Aw, are you sulking now?’
I look back at him, meeting his green eyes. ‘No.’
‘Yes you are.’ He grins and pats my head.
‘Get off!’ I brush him away. ‘I’m not a bloody dog!’
He laughs and flicks his ash over the side.
‘Drink up, girlfriend,’ he says, leaning his back against the pool edge and kicking his legs up in front of him.
‘I’m not your girlfriend,’ I say, mimicking his body language.
‘Thank fuck for that,’ he says.
‘Oi!’ I poke him in the ribs. ‘I should be saying that. Judging by past behaviour…’ I add, ominously.
He sucks the air through his teeth. ‘Jeez, Nutmeg, go easy on a guy.’
‘You don’t deserve anyone to go easy on you,’ I tell him in my best schoolmarm voice. ‘You’re a scallywag.’
‘A scallywag?’ He laughs.
‘Yes. A scallywag.’
‘That’s harsh, Nutmeg. Harsh.’
‘Just finish your cigarette before I splash you.’
�
��You better not splash me, girl…’ he warns.
‘Why?’
‘I will make sure you regret it.’
‘Will you now.’ Oh my God, I am so tempted. Do I dare?
‘I’m warning you.’
I push myself off the side of the pool and swivel round to face him from the other side, kicking my legs up again. It would be so easy…
In a flash, he stubs his cigarette out on a rock beside the pool and puts his wine glass down on a ledge, kicking off from the side to get to me.
‘Argh!’ I flinch, and quickly put my glass on the side, expecting him to drench me. But he doesn’t. Instead he pins my arms to my side, powerfully, so I’m unable to move.
‘Try and splash me now, little girl,’ he teases.
‘Ow! Let go!’ I squeal, trying to wriggle free. It’s impossible. He’s too strong. ‘I’ll kick you in the goolies,’ I threaten.
His response is to wrap one of his legs around my bum, pulling himself into me close, so I’m pressed up against the side, and he’s pressed up against me. His face is inches away.
Now I’m lost for words. All I can do is breathe.
He looks into my eyes, unsmiling. He’s so close I could count the freckles on his nose. A bolt of desire zips through me and I swear I feel him stiffen between my legs. A split second later he lets go and pushes himself backwards to the other side of the pool. We both laugh, awkwardly.
I turn around and pick up my wine glass, while he leans his arm backwards to pick up his. I think I’ve had too much to drink. In fact, I know I have, but I’ll just keep going for the hell of it.
‘Dirty girl,’ he says, when he’s facing me again.
‘Me?’ I respond, outraged. ‘I’m a good girl,’ I tell him.
He raises one eyebrow, flirtatiously.
‘I am!’ I insist.
‘Sure you are,’ he says. ‘I bet no one’s ever tried to corrupt you.’
‘Hey, I didn’t say no one had tried…’
‘Ha! The boys you’ve been with wouldn’t have a clue about corruption,’ he says, knocking back his drink in one. He kicks himself over to my side and pours himself another glass, his left arm brushing against my right as he does so. It takes everything in me to stay where I am. My instinct is telling me to go to the other side of the pool immediately. He picks up the bottle of white and tops up my glass, then returns to the other side himself.
Phew.
I think.
‘I dread to think how many girls you’ve corrupted.’ My tone is mocking.
He shrugs. ‘I haven’t had any complaints.’
‘You don’t open your own fan mail, though, do you?’ I joke.
His head shoots up to look at me. ‘You haven’t had any letters about that sort of thing, have you?’ he asks.
I just laugh.
‘Wait till we go on tour…’ he says.
‘Oh, nice!’ I exclaim.
He chuckles.
‘Have you heard from Serengeti recently?’ Where did that question come from?
He looks down into the water. ‘No.’
I don’t say anything and he doesn’t either for a little while. Finally, he speaks. ‘I think she’s seeing someone new.’
‘That’s good,’ I say. ‘Isn’t it?’ Well, I’d better double-check.
‘Yeah,’ he nods. ‘Yeah, it is good.’
‘She wasn’t pregnant, then?’
I don’t know where I’m getting the courage to interrogate him. Oh, yes I do: Hi, there, Mr Pinot Grigio!
‘Fuck, no, Meg! Christ. I’m not that much of an idiot.’
The relief is immense.
‘Always use a condom,’ he instructs, giving me a knowing look.
‘Alright, boss, I’ll keep that in mind,’ I reply. ‘So what went wrong, exactly?’
‘Good point. One broke.’
Is he really telling me this?
‘Bummer,’ I say.
‘Yeah, bummer,’ he agrees.
I suddenly remember the girl he was with on the landing. He didn’t look much like he was going to use a condom then. The memory of the sight of him pressed up against her right outside the room where his girlfriend was sleeping sobers me up momentarily.
‘What’s up?’ he asks, seeing my expression.
‘Nothing,’ I reply.
‘Yeah, there is. Tell me.’
‘Well, it didn’t look like you were about to slip a johnny on little Johnny when you were with the girl that Serengeti caught you with.’
‘Nutmeg, were you watching us?’ he asks, grinning.
Shit! I walked right into that one. My face heats up so fast I feel like I’m going to boil over.
‘No!’ I quickly reply.
‘You were, weren’t you?’ he teases.
‘Johnny, stop looking so goddamn pleased with yourself. It’s nothing to be proud of, you know.’
His face falls. ‘No, I know. You’re right. Fuck.’
Phew. Good save, Meg. I turn round to the wine. Actually, I decide, I don’t feel like anymore. I put my glass down. ‘Do you want a top-up?’ I offer. ‘I’ve had enough,’ I tell him.
‘Yeah, we’re probably turning into prunes in this heat. Christian won’t recognise us tomorrow.’
The reminder that I’ll see Christian again soon immediately brightens my mood. ‘It’s so nice that he’s coming!’
‘Yeah,’ Johnny replies, with less enthusiasm. He wades towards the steps. I follow him out, trying, but failing, not to look at his really rather lovely bottom. He hands me a towel and we quickly dry ourselves off before putting our robes back on.
‘Aah, if your fans could see you now,’ I tease. ‘Super-cool rock god Johnny Jefferson wearing a fluffy robe and slippers.’
‘Look, even super-cool rock gods need home comforts sometimes.’
We wander back along the path towards our rooms.
‘This is me,’ I say, as we reach my steps.
‘Cool. Sleep well, Nutmeg.’ He reaches over to squeeze my arm.
‘Thanks.’ I look up at him. ‘You too.’
‘Early night for a change,’ he calls over his shoulder as he heads across the path.
‘It will do you good!’ I call back, watching him go inside his room, before I walk, feeling a touch dejected, into mine.
Chapter 16
Knock, knock, knock.
Who’s that? Can’t be housekeeping. I came back from breakfast this morning to find the Tree House spotless and the fridge magically restocked. It was as if little gnomes had been in. I’ve already decided I want to live here for the rest of my life. Here with the little gnomes.
Knock, knock, knock.
Oh, better get it.
‘Hang on!’ I shout, pushing my chair away from the desk in the corner. I’ve been trying to get some work done. Johnny is clearly having one hell of a lie-in because he didn’t emerge in time for breakfast. I snuck him out some pastries. Christian is going to love the spread they put on in the restaurant.
I fling open the door to find Christian, the man himself, standing on my doorstep.
‘Hello!’ I exclaim.
‘Meg!’ He wraps his right arm around me and pulls me in for a hug, then lets go, looking down at me. I beam back up into his dark-brown eyes.
‘You’re here already!’
His hair is a little longer and he hasn’t shaved his overnight stubble.
‘Just got in,’ he explains.
‘That was quick! Didn’t think you’d be here until after lunch.’
‘Well, it’s two o’clock,’ he says.
‘Is it that time already?’ I’ve been so busy working I didn’t realise. I’m trying to keep a handle on all of Johnny’s emails so I don’t have a million to go back to.
‘Hey, can I see your room?’ he asks, eagerly peering past me.
‘Sure.’ I step aside.
‘That view is amazing.’ He stands there, shaking his head at the mountains. ‘This is really cool.’ He looks around. ‘Blo
ody hell, high bed!’
‘I know!’ I laugh. ‘I could barely get onto it last night.’
He climbs up onto the bed and turns around to plonk himself down on his bum. Then he bounces up and down a few times. He looks like an excited five-year-old.
‘Fuck me, mate, I turn my back for one minute and you’re in Meg’s bed!’ Johnny says from the doorway. ‘How many times do I have to tell you to keep your hands off my staff?’
Christian jumps off the bed and they engulf each other in a big bear hug, laughing.
‘Hey,’ Johnny says. ‘Good to see you. Journey okay?’
‘Yeah, in the end. Fucking queues at Heathrow. Nightmare.’
‘Nightmare,’ Johnny agrees, then his face breaks into a grin. ‘Private jet when we go on tour in six weeks.’ He nudges Christian on the shoulder.
‘Wicked.’ Then Christian says excitedly, ‘Hey, did you check out the elephant seals on the way here?’
Johnny gives me a pointed look. ‘Did we check out the elephant seals on our way here, Meg?’
‘Um,’ I answer, comically looking left, right and left again.
‘Nah,’ Johnny says, ‘we didn’t get to fully appreciate the elephant seals because this one ’ere was too busy feeding the fucking chipmunks.’
Christian laughs. ‘They were pretty cute, too.’
‘See? See?’ I say to Johnny.
‘Mate!’ Johnny berates. ‘You’re letting the side down!’
‘Ah, sorry,’ Christian responds.
‘Fuck me, Meg, high bed,’ Johnny says suddenly.
‘I know!’ Christian practically shouts.
Johnny goes and climbs onto it and Christian follows, both turning around and bouncing up and down like little boys.
‘Sorry, how old are you?’ I ask.
They laugh and get off.
‘Have you had lunch yet?’ Christian asks us.
‘I haven’t even had fucking breakfast yet,’ Johnny responds.
‘You never have breakfast,’ I chide.
‘Good point.’
‘I did get you some pastries, though,’ I offer.
He smiles at me, warmly. ‘No thanks, Nutmeg. Shall we go and get a bite to eat?’ he says to Christian.
‘Yeah, that’d be great,’ his friend replies.
‘You coming, Meg?’ Johnny asks.
‘Um, I might just carry on with some work here,’ I respond, figuring it might be nice to let them have some time alone before I gatecrash their party.