Bon Voyage

by Michelle Betham

  ‘I got here as fast as I could,’ Jemma breathed, clutching her side as she slid onto the stool next to Aimee, smiling at Milo as he handed her something red and yellow. She didn’t ask what it was because she didn’t care. All she knew was that it would have alcohol in it and that was all that mattered. ‘I’ve never had a shower so quick in all me life!’

  ‘You decided to get changed before you came to see me then,’ Aimee commented dryly, signalling to Milo to mix her up another Manhattan. ‘I would have thought the faintest whiff of gossip like this and you’d have stopped at nothing to get here as fast as you could.’

  ‘Aimee, you’ve known me long enough now to realise that I’m a much better listener if my lipstick’s on, my eyebrow’s are plucked and my frock is fantastic. And don’t for one minute think that I didn’t want to come straight up here to see you but I will not be seen in this bar dressed in denim shorts and flip-flops. Besides, the humidity’s played havoc with my hair. It needed three sessions with the straighteners before it even began to resemble anything nearing presentable. When I got back on board I looked like one of the Hair Bear Bunch, no word of a lie!’

  Aimee looked at her. ‘Are you finished?’

  Jemma shuffled about on her stool, trying to get comfortable in the tight black dress she was wearing, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at Aimee, an expression of total concentration on her face. ‘Come on then. What’s the story? Why are Robbie the Rat and Davina Queen of the Z-Listers here on board our ship?’

  Aimee reached into her bag and pulled out a printed sheet of A4 paper that carried a far-too-large for Aimee’s liking photograph of her and Danny in Cassis, sitting in the little harbour-side restaurant they’d had lunch in – sharing a kiss. Although, to be fair, whoever had taken that photograph had managed to take it from a fairly flattering angle.

  ‘Can you believe this?’ Aimee sighed, taking a sip of her fresh Manhattan. ‘Me. On the Celebrity Secrets website!’

  ‘You’re in Celebrity Secrets?’ Jemma gasped, turning the piece of paper round to get a better look. ‘Wow, Aimee! You’re on the Celebrity Secrets website! How mad is that?’

  Aimee threw Jemma a look. ‘Apparently, the photograph was posted online just hours after it was taken, somebody told Robbie about it, he saw it, got all upset at the prospect of me becoming involved with someone else, and then suddenly decided he wanted me back. Hence the sudden appearance of text messages.’ She retrieved the piece of paper from Jemma and rolled it up, sticking it back in her bag. ‘And, here he is.’

  ‘Simple as that?’ Jemma asked, reaching out to squeeze her friend’s hand, quickly realising that her appearance in one of the U.K.’s leading celebrity gossip magazines – even if it was only the online version, so far – wasn’t quite the Holy Grail it might have been under different circumstances.

  Aimee shrugged. ‘Simple as that. Apparently.’

  ‘And where does Davina Black come into all this?’

  Aimee shrugged again. ‘He just said that she got in touch with him, because she’d seen the photo too – you know there was a rumour they used to go out with each other, don’t you? Anyway, she got in touch with him, they talked, he told her he wanted me back, and apparently she’s hell bent on making sure her divorce from Danny is called off, so they both decided that the only way to get what they both wanted was to quickly book themselves on this cruise and save their respective relationships before it was too late. He says he wants me back, Jem.’

  ‘And is that what you want?’

  Aimee sighed, briefly looking up at the ceiling, which was black and covered in what seemed like a million tiny, twinkling lights. It was actually quite mesmerising.

  ‘Aimee? I said, is that what you want?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jemma. I really don’t know.’

  ‘Aimee…’

  She looked at Jemma. ‘I missed him, y’know? The man who dumped me at our own engagement party. Deep down inside I missed him. In the beginning, anyway.’ Aimee felt hot tears start to prick the back of her eyes and she blinked furiously to try and keep them at bay. ‘I shouldn’t be feeling like this, should I? I mean, things were going so well, things were going really great with Danny, and Robbie he – he was fast becoming nothing but a bad, distant memory. He didn’t matter anymore. But… but him turning up like this… it’s really thrown me, Jem.’ Aimee looked at Jemma, her face crumpling as a wave of confusion swept over her. ‘These past couple of days with Danny… these past couple of days have been so amazing. And we were starting to talk, y’know? Me and Danny – about what we were beginning to feel, because there was something there, I could sense it. I could see it in his face, but now… now all of that’s just been one big waste of time, hasn’t it? Because I don’t know what to do anymore, and even if I did know what I wanted, well, Davina’s here to save her marriage, isn’t she? And how can I possibly compete with her?’

  Jemma squeezed Aimee’s hand again, trying to get her head around everything. ‘Just because Queen Wannabe has turned up, Aimee, that doesn’t mean Danny is going to go running straight back into her arms. I’ve told you what I’ve heard others saying about their marriage, and Danny – he’s told you himself it’s going nowhere, hasn’t he? He wants out…’

  ‘Oh, come on, Jemma. Of course it makes a difference. Have you seen her up close? She’s stunning! Okay, maybe there are one or two parts of her that aren’t altogether natural or real but… Look; for starters, she’s younger than me…’

  ‘By two years.’

  ‘She’s still younger. And she’s beautiful, and she’s exactly the kind of woman Danny Johnson was always seen with back in the day.’

  ‘You said it. Back in the day, Aimee. That was then and he’s obviously changed…’

  ‘Has he though? How do we know that, Jemma? Just because me and him… Just because he’s been with me these past few days, that doesn’t mean he’s changed, does it? How do I know I wasn’t really just someone to have a bit of fun with until he had to go back home – back to her?’

  ‘It was just a bit of fun for you too, though, wasn’t it?’ Jemma asked, squeezing Aimee’s hand again.

  Aimee looked at her best friend, those stupid, hot tears refusing to go away. And she didn’t want to cry, she really didn’t want to cry. ‘In the beginning, yes, of course it was. For both of us. I mean, it was one hell of an ego boost, having somebody I’d used to lust after on a daily basis tell me I was beautiful but… things changed, Jem. Things changed, for me, anyway, and after Barcelona, and that fantastic afternoon we’ve just had in Palma… well, I thought things were going to be different, I thought things were getting a little more serious, I thought…’ She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, immediately wishing she hadn’t done that because now her mascara and eyeliner would surely be all over her face. ‘Well, I was obviously just being stupid, wasn’t I? Wishing for something that was never going to happen, letting myself get carried away when it really hadn’t been anything other than a stupid holiday romance.’

  ‘Have you spoken to him, Aimee? To Danny?’

  Aimee shook her head, staring down into her drink. ‘What’s the point? I know what he’s going to say.’

  ‘Oh yeah? And how do you know that, huh? You suddenly turned into Derren Brown? You need to speak to him, Aimee. Find out what’s going on.’

  Aimee sighed, throwing her head back. ‘I know what’s going on, Jemma. I had a fabulous holiday fling, but now Davina Black is back to get her husband, and I don’t see how I can compete with that.’

  ‘Aimee, come on, what have I just said? Huh? That doesn’t mean that Danny is going to go back to her, does it? Just because that’s what she wants…’

  ‘Jesus, Jemma, we’ve been over this. That was before this happened, wasn’t it? Before Davina turned up out of the blue to stick one massive spanner in the works. We’re on a cruise, Jem. She’s practically got him cornered here; he can’t really get away, can he? And anyway, it’ll make great TV, won�
��t it? Danny Johnson’s estranged wife turning up, wanting to make a go of things as he prepares for the band’s big comeback, acting like the perfect pop-star wife.’ She sighed again, her heart feeling like a lump of concrete in her chest, her shoulders aching with the unexpected stress of it all. ‘What do I do, Jemma?’

  ‘I hope you’re not expecting me to answer that question. Look, you can’t spend the whole of the next week avoiding Danny, so… I really think you should try and talk to him. Find out what’s really going on. That’s the only way you’re ever going to know, hon.’

  Aimee shook her head. ‘I know what’s going on, Jem. Davina Black will talk him round, they’ll get back together, and… well, at least I’ll have a whole week’s worth of happy memories, huh?’

  ‘I still think you should talk to him, Aimee.’

  Aimee sighed heavily again. ‘What’s the point?’

  It was Jemma’s turn to sigh as she took Aimee’s hand, giving it another squeeze. ‘And what about Robbie? Have you spoken to him yet? I mean, properly spoken to him?’

  ‘We’re supposed to be meeting for a drink outside at the Calypso Bar. To talk about things.’

  ‘Well, you know how I feel about Robbie the Rat, and I don’t think you should even contemplate going anywhere near him again after what he did, but, like you said, we’re on a ship here, so you haven’t really got much choice. He isn’t exactly going anywhere for the foreseeable future, unless we can get him off-loaded at Morocco or something.’

  Aimee couldn’t help but smile, because she knew Jemma was just messing. At least, she assumed she was just messing. They couldn’t really get Robbie off-loaded, could they?

  ‘I’ve got to give him a chance, Jem,’ Aimee said, finishing off the last of her third Manhattan. ‘He has come all this way, after all.’

  ‘Yeah. Uninvited, remember?’

  ‘Don’t you think that he, maybe, deserves a second chance though?’

  ‘No. Not really. Like I said before, I don’t even think you should be going anywhere near him after what he did to you, but, if you have to, then talk to him. But, Aimee? Remember the night of your engagement party – then remember how you’ve felt over these past few days. Remember how Danny made you feel. Just… just, remember.’

  *

  ‘Jesus, Davina, I can’t frigging believe you! What the hell gives you the right to just turn up like this?’ Danny paced the floor of her cabin, hands shoved deep in his pockets, still desperately trying to get his head around everything that had happened in the past couple of hours. He’d had another incredible day with Aimee, another day of moving one step further away from the mess of his old life and one step nearer to a new beginning, and now here they were, everything turned upside down by this completely out-of-the-blue appearance of their estranged partners. And now he didn’t know what to think anymore. It was all making his head hurt.

  He finally stopped pacing and leaned back against the wall, looking around Davina’s cabin – a nice little double-bedded room with a larger window than him and Cal had in theirs. She hadn’t been on the boat an hour and already she’d made herself at home, the small dressing-table littered with her various lotions and potions, the smell of fake tan already pervading the air.

  ‘It’s a free country, Danny, pet. And I think I needed a holiday, don’t you? What with all the stress of this divorce you keep insisting we need…’

  ‘Oh, no. No, Davina. Do not sit there and pretend that this divorce is all my idea when it was something we both wanted, before you got wind of an impending Bon Voyage comeback.’

  ‘Danny!’ She got up from the dressing-table, picking up a short red dress she’d lain out on the bed, shaking it out and slipping it on, running her fingers through her long, bleached hair so it fell neatly over her spray-tanned shoulders. ‘I can’t believe you still think that’s why I want to call off the divorce.’

  ‘Don’t put on that mock-offended tone, Davina. It doesn’t suit you. We all know why you want to call off the divorce.’

  ‘I want to call off the divorce because I want to save our marriage, Danny.’

  ‘Bollocks! You want to resurrect your career, you mean.’

  ‘And you’re making a good job of killing yours before it’s even had a chance to get back off the ground, sleeping with that plain, mousy woman you turned up with this afternoon. I mean, come on, Danny. You’re so much better than that.’ She walked over to him, playing with the collar of his black shirt, turning on the little-girl-lost charm. ‘You’re Danny Johnson, pop star. And I’m Davina Black, model and TV presenter. We belong together.’

  He gently pushed her away. ‘Firstly, Davina, Aimee is anything but plain or mousy. Just because she doesn’t have fake tits and her hair’s all her own… Do you actually know how refreshing that is to see in a woman these days? And secondly, one three minute slot on the local news where you talked about Jesmond’s newest nail bar does not qualify you as a TV presenter.’

  ‘The producer said I had a natural talent,’ Davina huffed, winding a strand of her poker-straight hair round her forefinger.

  ‘That’s about all you’ve got that’s natural,’ Danny muttered under his breath.

  ‘In fact…’ Davina went on, pouting in the mirror at her reflection, ‘… he said I had a rare aptitude for presenting. Said he could get me a couple of auditions if I wanted him to.’

  ‘If you slept with him, you mean.’

  Davina swung round, letting go of her hair, the pout now gone. ‘And you haven’t been sleeping with Little-Miss-Boring, I suppose?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘Oh, actually, I think it is, Danny. Seeing as I’m still your wife, remember?’

  Danny walked right up to her, looking straight at her. ‘And if you remember, Davina, you told me that our marriage was over and you wanted a divorce – until you got wind of a possible Bon Voyage reunion. Now, I don’t actually care whether you want to save this marriage or not, because I don’t. And whatever you say or do, nothing is going to change that.’

  Davina just smiled, walking away from him, picking up her little silver clutch bag on her way to the door. ‘We’ll see,’ she shouted over her shoulder. ‘We’ll see.’

  *

  Aimee felt sick. In fact, she hadn’t felt this sick since her first date with Robbie a couple of years ago. Actually, back then she had actually been sick, round the back of The Cross Keys pub, which had made her late for that first date because she’d had to run to the local Spar shop to buy some mouthwash and then spend ten minutes in the pub toilets re-doing her make-up.

  She walked along the corridor, reaching the door that led outside to the Calypso Bar, and she could already hear the music, the hum of chatter, the sound of people enjoying themselves on holiday. Taking a deep breath she pushed open the heavy door and stepped outside, walking slowly over towards the bar where Robbie was already sitting on one of the stools, drinking a pint and chatting away to the barman. She stood still for a second, just looking at him with his short dark hair and his handsome face, dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt that showed off the huge, black tribal tattoo that snaked around his upper left arm. Robbie Cartwright. The man she’d once thought she was going to marry.

  He caught sight of her walking over and he smiled, and Aimee wished that smile hadn’t sent her heart soaring. She wished those butterflies had stayed shut away because it had only been a couple of hours since they’d been flying round her stomach for a completely different reason – for a completely different man. And none of this was helping with the confusion that was clouding her thoughts right now.

  ‘Hey,’ he said as she approached the bar, that smile still there on his face.

  ‘You really shouldn’t have come,’ Aimee said, trying to avoid looking into his eyes, because the last time she’d looked into those eyes he’d been telling her that he wasn’t ready for commitment. And he’d been telling her that on the night of their engagement party. Although, maybe looking into t
hose eyes and remembering that night might make it easier for her to make the right decision; maybe remembering that sad, humiliating, painful night was the only way to get him out of her system.

  ‘I had to come, Aimee. When I saw that photo of you, with him… I couldn’t get the image out of my head. I couldn’t bear the thought of you with him, of him touching you, being near you when…’

  ‘When what, Robbie?’ This time she plucked up the courage to face him head on, staring into those deep, dark eyes of his. ‘When you still loved me? Is that what you were going to say?’

  ‘Aimee, baby, please…’

  ‘Don’t “baby” me, Robbie,’ she said, pushing away his hand as he reached out to touch her face. ‘You don’t love me. I don’t think you ever did.’

  ‘I did, believe me. I really did love you, Aimee, I just…’

  ‘You couldn’t cope with commitment. You’re forty-years-old but you still can’t cope with commitment. Why don’t you try growing up, huh? Why don’t you start realising that you’re not twenty-one anymore and just try growing up?’

  Robbie Cartwright. The best looking bachelor still left in Whitley Bay. Just turned forty with dark hair, tanned skin, and deep, almost black eyes that seemed to draw you in the more you looked into them, he was a man that most women would kill to be with. And he’d chosen Aimee. Once upon a time. He’d chosen Aimee Anderson. Oh, she wasn’t exactly bargain basement when it came to looks herself, and she’d never really been short of male attention, but when Robbie Cartwright had asked her out she’d felt like the luckiest girl in the world, even though she’d always known that there were far more beautiful women around that Robbie could have chosen – he’d dated local celebrities, for heaven’s sake, including a rumoured romance with a very young Davina Black. So, when he’d shown an interest in Aimee she’d been flattered to say the least, knocked sideways when he’d told her he’d loved her, and dizzy with happiness when he’d asked her to marry him. Only to be followed by that crushing, humiliating night of their engagement party, when he’d felt the need to tell her that – even at the age of forty – he wasn’t ready for marriage just yet. When he’d felt the need to tell her that in front of every single guest. And her life had suddenly come crashing down around her. So why was she even entertaining the notion of talking to him now? When she shouldn’t really even be giving him the time of day.