‘And your friend? Where’s she disappeared off to?’
‘She’s in the toilet,’ Aimee said, cringing the second she’d said that. Jemma was going to kill her!
Danny smiled, liking this woman more and more by the second. She was obviously nervous, but that only made her all the more attractive.
‘Aimee, you’ll never guess…’ Jemma tottered over in her ridiculously high silver spiked heels, stopping dead in her tracks as she noticed just who Aimee was talking to, and it took less than a micro-second for her to lose the surprised look and replace it with a big grin as she brushed down the pale blue dress she was wearing, shuffling from one sky-scraper-heeled-clad foot to the other. ‘Why, hello… I… Aimee, you didn’t tell me…’
Aimee threw Jemma an ‘I didn’t know he was going to be here, did I?’ look, grabbing her arm in the process. Anything to help steady her even more. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could remain standing upright in the shoes she was wearing.
‘Danny Johnson,’ Danny smiled, holding out his hand, which Jemma grabbed with rather indecent haste, Aimee thought.
‘Oh, we know who you are,’ Jemma laughed, rather too girlishly in Aimee’s opinion. She was verging on hysterical now. Still, at least Jemma was making her seem relatively normal. ‘We were such huge fans of yours back in the ‘90’s, weren’t we, Aimee?’
‘That makes us sound like stalkers,’ Aimee hissed in her ear. ‘Try playing it cool, okay? I’ve got plans for this one.’ Had she? Those words had slipped out before Aimee had actually had a chance to think about what she was saying.
‘Really?’ Jemma asked, raising her eyebrows in a somewhat surprised manner, still holding onto Danny’s hand, which he was trying to extricate, quite unsuccessfully. Jemma quickly composed herself, turning her attention back to Danny, her smile still just a tad too wide. ‘Jemma Jordan and Aimee Anderson.’
Danny finally managed to pull his hand away from Jemma’s, holding it out in front of Aimee, who took it gently, shaking it quickly, her stomach doing a million tiny somersaults the second she touched him. She was actually touching him! Danny Johnson! She was touching him! ‘Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Jemma Jordan and Aimee Anderson.’ Aimee didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on hers when he’d said her name, and she felt her cheeks flush bright red, which wasn’t going to be a great look teamed with the pink blusher she was already wearing. ‘Look, I’ve got to go find the rest of the guys now. We’ve got quite a bit of rehearsing still to do. First show tomorrow and all that but, I… I guess you’ll be in here, for the show? Tomorrow night?’ His eyes fell on Aimee again and she grabbed the glass of sparkling wine the barman had left beside her, downing a good mouthful in one gulp, and all she could do was nod, mainly because she was having trouble swallowing the wine and she was scared that if she spoke a cascade of cava was going to fly everywhere. And that really wouldn’t be a great look. For anyone.
‘Of course we’ll be here,’ Jemma gushed, wringing her hands in front of her like some demented uber-fan.
‘Great,’ Danny smiled, winking quickly at Aimee before walking away.
‘Did you see that?’ Jemma screeched, clapping her hands wildly. ‘That was Danny Johnson! The Danny Johnson! And he was talking to us! Me and you!’
‘He winked at me,’ Aimee said, still not quite believing what had just happened. ‘He winked. At me. I mean, I was always convinced he’d winked at me at that gig in Birmingham back in 1995, when we were in the third row and I’d spent half the concert trying to attract his attention with that banner we’d made on the coach on the way down, but you said he probably just had something in his eye…’
‘After all those years of dreaming, we finally get to meet a member of Bon Voyage!’ Jemma squealed. ‘I can’t believe it!’
Aimee finally composed herself, taking another sip of cava as she leaned back against the bar. ‘I can’t believe you. You were verging on creepy there, do you know that? I wouldn’t be surprised if he circulates our pictures round the ship now just so’s the rest of the band know who to avoid.’
‘Oh, don’t exaggerate. I bet he’s met far worse than us.’
‘Back in the day, maybe. But he hasn’t been a pop star for almost sixteen years, has he? Meeting fans can’t be something he’s all that used to anymore. Especially fans like you.’
Jemma reached out for her glass of wine, running her other hand through her hair. ‘Well, he may not be the pop star he once was, but if they pull off this comeback then he could be a pop star again, couldn’t he? I mean, that’s what this cruise is all about for them, isn’t it? Getting the band back together. A new start.’
Aimee shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
Jemma looked at her. ‘Did you not see the way he was looking at you?’
Aimee shrugged again. What was the point in reading anything into that meeting? He was obviously just a very friendly guy, that’s all. A very handsome, very sexy friendly guy, but just a friendly guy all the same. He probably winked at all the girls he met. In fact, he could have been winking at girls like that since 1991 for all she knew. Maybe he had winked at her at that gig in Birmingham. Maybe this was the second time Danny Johnson had winked at her…
‘Oh, my God! She gets given the once over by her favourite member of her favourite band and all she can do is shrug? You are unbelievable!’
Aimee shook herself back to reality. ‘He was just being friendly, Jemma.’
‘Rubbish! I could see it in his eyes. He was checking you out, girl!’ They made their way down into the main body of the Show Lounge, sitting down at one of the few remaining empty tables, settling themselves in for a night of 70’s pop as the strains of Dancing Queen began to echo round the Vegas Show Lounge. ‘And anyway, what did you mean when you said you had plans for him?’
Aimee took another long sip of wine. ‘I dunno. I was kind of just thinking out loud.’ Now she’d met Danny Johnson in the flesh, he seemed just as unobtainable as he had done back when he’d been nothing but a poster on her wall. But what if Jemma was right? What if he had been checking her out? That thought filled Aimee with a warm glow the likes of which she hadn’t felt since Robbie Cartwright had asked her to marry him. Mind you, look how that had ended. ‘I need to put Robbie behind me, Jemma,’ Aimee sighed, draining the last of her cava, looking round for a passing waiter to bring her a refill. ‘I need to have a bit of fun…’
Jemma’s face broke into a huge grin and she clapped her hands together like an over-excited toddler, bouncing up and down in her seat. ‘And you want to have some fun with Danny Boy? Is that it?’
Aimee looked at her friend – confident, outgoing Jemma. She wished she was more like her sometimes. ‘In my dreams, Jem. Come on. Someone like Danny… No. It was nice that he noticed me, but…’
‘He did more than notice you. Aimee, this is fate, it has to be! Robbie the Rat humiliates you…’
‘Yes, thank you, Jemma, I don’t need reminding of that.’
‘Well, he did. He humiliated you and he still thinks you’re moping after him because you never really gave him any cause to think otherwise, did you? But what better way to get that idiot out of your system than to get it on with a pop star?’
‘He isn’t a pop star…’
‘A technicality. He’s in the process of becoming one again. Come on, Aimee! You said you wanted to have fun, you said you had plans for Danny Johnson, so let’s put that plan into action. Okay?’
‘Haven’t we both forgotten one important point here, Jemma? He’s still married.’
‘Humph. For what that’s worth,’ Jemma sniffed. ‘That’ll be over the minute he gets back home, I’d put money on it. If he was still in love with his wife, why was he checking you out the way he was tonight? Now, come on. Let’s get ourselves a bottle of cava and start thinking of ways to get you and Dan the Man together. I just knew this was gonna be one hell of a holiday!’
CRUISE DAY 3
AJACCIO – CORSICA
4:30pm
Corsica was a beautiful island. That was the only word Aimee could think of to describe it – beautiful.
They’d docked at Ajaccio at breakfast time, and after a relaxing morning round the main pool, dissecting every detail of last night’s meeting with Danny Johnson (well, Jemma had done the dissecting, Aimee had listened), they were now nearing the end of a wonderful afternoon excursion that had seen them explore and sample just a taste of what Corsica had to offer.
The excursion had begun with a trip deep into the Corsican countryside – with its stunning views and amazing aromas of pine trees and lemons – where everyone had had a chance to stretch their legs and take some photographs. Next on the agenda had been a visit to a winery, and after a short but interesting tour – although, to be honest, all Aimee and Jemma were really interested in was what the wine tasted like rather than how it had got into the actual bottle – everyone had been given the chance to sample some of the gorgeous, fruity wines the island had to offer. And a fair few of the cruise party – those that had been slightly more interested than Aimee and Jemma as to what the wine tasted like – had sampled far more than others, with a couple of them having to have their glasses almost snatched away from them by Lydia, the polite, but making it quite obvious she’d rather be somewhere else, holiday company tour guide. Aimee had seen her swanning round the ship as though it was the QE2 rather than some mid-budget freestyle cruise liner, but maybe she just had aspirations she had yet to reach, and they didn’t involve The Atlantica and its type of clientele.
After the winery they’d stopped at factory that specialised in essential oils made from local flowers and herbs, and as soon as they’d entered the factory the smell had hit them head on; a sweet, heady aroma filling the air, everything from citrus to lavender.
And now they were on the last leg of their ‘Discover Corsica’ excursion – a nougat factory. They’d had a step-by-step demonstration of how nougat was made, sampled a few chunks of the finished product for themselves, and they were now being let loose in the gift shop area to buy souvenirs and boxes of nougat to take home, should they wish. Aimee and Jemma had bought a couple of boxes, figuring they’d do for birthday presents, if they lasted that long. Aimee was feeling rather peckish so there was every chance that one box could fall victim on the coach journey back to the ship.
‘Aren’t you just a little bit excited?’ Jemma asked, sitting down opposite Aimee at the table they’d managed to commandeer for themselves in the corner of the gift shop café.
‘About what?’ Aimee asked, blowing on her coffee to cool it down, already eyeing the box of nougat in its perfectly gift-wrapped little bag.
Jemma sighed, rather too over-dramatically. ‘About Bon Voyage’s performance tonight, that’s what.’
Aimee looked up and smiled, despite herself. She was just in a ridiculously good mood, and for the first time in weeks she’d woken up that morning not fretting over everything Robbie had done to her. She’d woken up not wishing he was still beside her.
Jemma smiled too. ‘I like that face, Aimee Anderson. That’s a face that tells me we may finally have moved on from Robbie the Rat, am I right?’
Aimee took a small sip of coffee, still smiling. ‘We’re getting there, yeah. I think we’re getting there.’
‘Excellent!’ Jemma said, waving excitedly at Bob and Barbara, who were busy trying to pack about a dozen boxes of nougat into a carrier bag, along with the four bottles of wine they’d bought at the winery earlier. God knows what their cases were going to weigh on the outward journey home. It was only day two of a fourteen night cruise and if they came back from every excursion with carrier bags full of souvenirs and presents, well; they were probably going to need another suitcase for the journey back to Yorkshire. ‘Then we’ll continue to work on operation Danny Boy.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘My good mood isn’t all to do with Danny Johnson y’know.’ Aimee suddenly felt the need to point that out, although whether she was actually trying to convince herself of that rather than Jemma was another matter.
Jemma looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes. ‘Whatever.’
‘No, I mean it, Jemma,’ Aimee protested.
‘Yeah, yeah. Before you met Danny Johnson you were moping over the fact you couldn’t look at a lip gloss because it was one Robbie liked you to wear, and yet now you’re smiling and your face goes all misty-eyed whenever you or anyone else mentions his name. Coincidental?’ Jemma shook her head, her dark curls flying backwards and forwards past her face. ‘I don’t think so, Missy.’
‘Believe what you like,’ Aimee sighed, trying hard to keep the smile off her face. ‘I know exactly what I’m feeling.’
‘Yeah,’ Jemma winked, downing the last of her coffee as she stood up from the table. ‘Sure you do. Come on. Laugh-a-minute-Lydia’s rounding everyone up. Looks like it’s time to get back on board, get scrubbed up, and see what The Atlantica has to offer us in the way of entertainment tonight – apart from Bon Voyage, that is.’
Aimee stood up too, sliding her bag back up onto her shoulder, picking up the small and pretty gift bag that carried her boxes of souvenir nougat. ‘Why do you keep winking at me, Jemma? You look as though you’ve got some kind of nervous twitch.’
Jemma linked her arm through Aimee’s as they walked out of the gift shop and back to the coach that was waiting to take them all back to the ship.
‘Once we get back on board we need to sit down and talk about how this is all gonna work,’ Jemma said. ‘You need to catch his eye during the show tonight. Show him you mean business.’
‘Are we still talking about Danny Johnson?’ Aimee sighed, waving at Bob and Barbara again, who were now sat at the back of the coach, Bob munching on a huge bar of nougat while Barbara rolled her blue-eye-shadow-decorated eyes.
‘You know I am,’ Jemma replied as they sat down, making themselves comfortable for the journey through the winding mountain roads back to port. ‘I say go for it.’
Aimee looked at her friend. ‘Go for what, exactly? We exchanged a few words at the bar last night, he hardly proposed marriage, which he couldn’t do anyway because he’s already married, if you remember.’
‘And like I told you last night, that’s all but over. Look, all I’m saying, Aimee, is that after last night you’re walking round looking like the old Aimee – pre-Robbie Cartwright. And that can only be a good thing.’
‘But it’s not all to do with Danny Johnson,’ Aimee protested again.
Jemma sat back in her seat, popping a boiled sweet into her mouth as the coach started up and the journey back to port began. ‘Whatever you say, Aimee. Whatever you say.’
Vegas Show Lounge
8:30pm
‘I am bricking it!’ Frankie said, running his fingers through his short, spiked dark brown hair, adding probably a touch more gel than was necessary. ‘Are we really doing this?’
Cal looked over towards Brummie Barry, their ever-present cameraman, who was capturing every second of the build-up to their first live show in almost sixteen years, even if it was a rather low-key performance on a cruise ship sailing the Mediterranean in the middle of June, rather than the packed out arenas they’d once been used to. He’d been following them around all day, which had only served to make the nerves worse rather than ease them, because if this all went tits-up then a lot more people than those watching in the Vegas Show Lounge out there were going to see them make twats of themselves. And how was that going to look? In reality, this comeback could be over before it had even begun, because rehearsals hadn’t exactly gone smoothly. Danny and Andy had been niggling away at each other again, Ross had pulled a calf muscle, and Frankie seemed to have acquired a sudden attack of stage-fright that had never been a problem back in 1994.
‘Yeah. We’re really doing this,’ Cal replied, taking a sneaky peek from the wings at the gathering crowd out in the Show Lounge. Mostly of the older generation, he had to admit, which only made him even more nervous. After all, did
any of them even know who they were? Would they know any of their songs? Should they shove in a Frank Sinatra cover just to try and endear them? Hell, they could even create a whole new genre if they were clever enough – Bon Voyage sing Rat Pack with a 90’s pop edge. That could work!
His daydreaming was interrupted by the sight of two younger females – in their late twenties/early thirties, he guessed, but way younger than the majority of guests he’d seen so far in the Show Lounge, anyway – making their way to a table near the front of the stage, giggling away like a couple of schoolgirls as they sat down, clutching their orange and red cocktails, crossing their stiletto-booted legs.
‘Things might just be looking up,’ he whistled, still looking out from the wings. ‘I think we may have a couple of fans in this audience after all, lads.’
‘Oh yeah? Let’s have a look,’ Ross said, pushing his way past Cal, glancing outside. ‘Whoa! Those two stand out from this crowd like doughnuts at a Weight Watchers meeting, but in such a good way.’
Both Andy and Frankie also decided to take a look, the four of them peeking out from the wings as Danny finally made it backstage, staring at them all through narrowed eyes.
‘What the hell are you lot doing?’
Andy was the first to break away, turning round to look at Danny, who was standing with his hands in his pockets looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, despite the fact he’d just come off the phone to Davina, who was being an even bigger cow than usual over this divorce that she’d initially instigated but now didn’t seem to want. Pity, because he still did. And she was just going to have to deal with that.
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