by Melissa Hill
“I know and I was going to, but I didn’t think things would go on this late. If I had known I wouldn’t have let myself get caught up in it. Especially when you look so good,” he pulled her into his arms, “so good that I don’t know if I want to go out at all.” He began to gently nuzzle her neck.
“But what about your surprise?” she asked.
He stiffened slightly. “My what?”
“Your surprise,” she reminded him. “You told me you were taking me somewhere special for our anniversary, but you wouldn’t say where.”
“For our what?” Suddenly, Steve released her from his arms and drew back.
“Our anniversary,” she said. “Our six-month anniversary?”
Steve gulped. “Em, right, yes.”
By his tone, Natalie knew he’d forgotten all about it. He hadn’t planned any bloody surprise for them at all, never mind a big proposal! He hadn’t even remembered that today was their anniversary – that they’d had six whole months of romantic bliss.
“I’m sorry, I erm . . . thought we were just going out for a bite to eat . . . I didn’t realise it was that important to you.”
Obviously not, Natalie thought, disappointment flooding through her as Steve went through to the living room. OK, so maybe she’d jumped the gun a little bit with the proposal thing. But she was so sure she’d read the signs right! She and Steve clearly adored one another, and he was always telling her how wonderful she was – particularly in bed, where they tended to spend most of their time.
So why wasn’t she wonderful enough to marry? Sod it! Natalie followed him into the room, yet again cursing herself inwardly for wanting it so much – and admittedly so soon. Maybe six months wasn’t that long after all – not long enough for Steve anyway. Six bloody weeks had been enough for Natalie to know she wanted to marry him – or indeed to get married at all!
But why did she want it so much, she wondered? What was wrong with things the way they were? They got on great and had a great sex life – what more did she want?
But despite her exciting career and lively social life, lately she’d been thinking a lot about settling down and starting a family. At thirty-two she’d been living, working and partying in London for nearly fourteen years and at this stage was beginning to tire of it all. While she adored her work, deep down she felt that there had to be more to life than working eight to eight and schmoozing some of London’s most self-important glitterati.
And, she admitted ruefully, her good friend Freya’s forthcoming wedding had a lot to do with that.
When Natalie first moved to London almost a lifetime ago, she’d been full of energy and enthusiasm, eager to experience life outside rural Hertfordshire. Hoping for a foot in the door of the London PR scene, she’d applied for a job as a senior publicist’s assistant, and it was here that she first came into contact with Freya Parker.
The two girls had hit it off almost immediately and for the next few years they shopped, partied and sampled the best of what the city had to offer, including the men. Naturally confident and incredibly flirtatious, Freya was never short of a man or two, while Natalie’s curvy figure and outgoing personality also drew men like flies. Throughout the years, Natalie worked hard at the agency, gained some important clients and even more important media contacts, and it wasn’t long before she was headhunted by one of London’s most prestigious firms, Blue Moon PR – the improved salary greatly helping to finance her girl-about-town exploits.
In the meantime, Freya met the love of her life, Simon Ford, and soon things began to change. Within a few months, Natalie’s best friend had changed from mad, fun-loving, champagne-guzzling Freya to a sensible, more mature, occasional drinker who, instead of partying in some of the city’s best bars and clubs, now preferred to host sophisticated dinner parties at the new home she shared in South London with her city broker fiancé.
It was inevitable that their city-girl friendship wouldn’t last forever, Natalie thought, but while she was genuinely thrilled for her friend, she still couldn’t help thinking that Freya’s fabulous new house, her upcoming wedding and her blissful domesticity seemed to garishly highlight her own lack of progress in this regard. Natalie had been ready to settle down and get married for some time, and the fact that Freya had beaten her to it merely made her want it all the more. Not to mention the fact that everyone she knew – Danni (who was only twenty-five!) included – seemed to be getting engaged and married too and Natalie was now in serious danger of being the only one left behind.
Having decided that it was too late to go out to dinner, Steve had since settled himself comfortably in front of the TV. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked.
“No, I don’t mind,” she said, slumping down on the sofa alongside him, her raw silk Ben de Lisi now decidedly wrinkled from all the sitting around waiting. “I’ll be up early tomorrow morning anyway. I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.”
The comment was intended as a jibe but, sure enough, he didn’t seem to notice. Steve was like that sometimes, Natalie thought wryly, the little barbs and remarks that could be so effective at work making no impression whatsoever on her easy-going boyfriend.
Then she sighed inwardly. She hated feeling like this, feeling so out of control, so much so that she’d reduced herself to behaving like some clingy, desperate wannabe. She was thirty-two years old, for goodness sake! Sophisticated thirty-somethings did not sit around sulking and pouting like teenagers when things didn’t go their way. No, sophisticated thirty-somethings were mature and adult and dignified enough to actually do something about those things. So there would be no more pouting and sulking about this, Natalie decided then – instead she’d have to think of a plan of action, something to help put this situation back on track. Feeling better now that she’d reasserted some control, Natalie began to think more clearly. Typically, when she encountered a sticky situation – usually at work – she wasn’t the type of person to sit in a corner feeling sorry for herself like she’d done just now; usually she went right ahead and tried to find a solution. But Steve wasn’t work, was he? And Natalie couldn’t just dream up a fast-fix solution to this particular problem – could she?
Over the last few weeks she’d interpreted the situation very badly by convincing herself that Steve was working up to a proposal. Her usually dependable intuition seemed to have deserted her this time, and she didn’t like it. Then again, for some reason her intuition always made a run for it when it came to men.
Although she knew Steve loved her (the sex was amazing after all and he said himself he couldn’t get enough of her), the idea of marriage obviously hadn’t yet entered his stupid little head. And this was a problem, because she knew without question that she wanted to marry him and had no intention of sitting around waiting for him to realise it.
Natalie’s gaze drifted idly towards the TV programme Steve was watching, some holiday programme or other.
Steve yawned. “I could definitely do with something like that soon,” he said, nodding at the screen. “The negotiations for this new deal are taking forever.”
And just like that it hit her. A holiday! Perfect!
Natalie thoughts began to race a mile a minute. She and Steve hadn’t really been spending enough time together lately – a week away at some fabulous sunny destination would surely convince him once and for all that she was the one for him. She sighed blissfully. Imagine a week relaxing in the sun at some fabulous hotel, doing nothing but eating and drinking and . . . well. Natalie grinned to herself as she stared at the TV. By the time she was finished with him, Steve wouldn’t be able to remember what life had been like without her!
The following morning, Natalie arrived at the offices of Blue Moon, tired and still deflated that last night hadn’t gone exactly as planned.
As she went upstairs in the lift, she glanced critically at her reflection in the elevator mirror. It was no surprise really that Steve wasn’t interested in taking their relationship to another level. She looked l
ike absolute shit. Her wardrobe needed serious updating, and she could definitely do with losing a few more pounds. But at least the lipo-dissolve sessions she was getting would sort that out. Still, she made a mental note there and then to book herself a fresh appointment with the image consultant she used now and again. In this business, appearance counted for a hell of a lot and, apart from Steve, she was lucky that she hadn’t frightened off the young footballer and his father yesterday!
Yes, a session with Janet from the Image Agency followed by a good dose of retail therapy at Selfridges would soon set her on the right track. And if she wanted to get to work on Steve properly during their romantic break in the sun, she’d have to ensure her wardrobe was well up to the task!
Finding the time for all this was another story though. What with leaving the office early yesterday evening, and being out of it for much of the afternoon, she’d be lucky if she found the time to have lunch at her desk for the next few days, let alone factor in an image consultancy.
Which made her doubly determined to go and see that time-management consultant Freya had recommended. Her friend had secured someone to help her cope with the time constraints of her forthcoming wedding, and Natalie thought she could certainly do with some of that type of advice too.
“She’s fabulous, Nat,” Freya had gushed. “She made me break my time down, not into things to do, but into blocks of time. And she reckons I’m way too generous with people and that I should use my time much more constructively.”
Yes, Natalie could certainly do with some of that.
But speaking of consultants, she thought, saying a quick hello to Danni before going into her office and closing the door behind her, she needed advice from someone in the travel business, and quickly.
She had it all arranged within the hour. The travel rep had informed her over the phone that at such short notice there wasn’t ‘a monkey’s chance’ of getting availability for her and Steve in her preferred holiday destination, St Tropez, or indeed anywhere in the Cote d’Azur. Instead, for this time of year, she’d helpfully suggested Sharm El Sheikh in Egypt.
“Egypt? Isn’t that one of those troublesome places?” Natalie asked, frowning.
“Well, if guaranteed thirty-degree sunshine, warm waters and unadulterated luxury is troublesome?” the travel rep joked. “Honestly, I’ve been there myself and it’s heavenly. Tony Blair goes there all the time – I think he has a holiday home in Sharm actually.”
Well, Natalie thought, if it was good enough for the PM, it was definitely good enough for her and Steve. And when the rep mentioned that the place was a treasure trove of beautiful gold jewellery, she nearly burst a blood vessel trying to make the booking.
“So, it’s for two adults leaving Saturday?” the other woman clarified as Natalie gave her and Steve’s details. “And flying first class from Heathrow to Sharm?”
“That’s right.” The flight and five-star hotel were going to cost her an arm and a leg but what the hell – Steve was worth it. And if, as Natalie hoped, the romantic trip abroad took their relationship to another level, well, then it would definitely be worth every penny!
He would get such a surprise when she told him, she thought, gleefully calling out her gold-card details. And what man wouldn’t be chuffed with a girlfriend who arranged last-minute luxury holidays abroad, not to mention Chelsea tickets at the drop of a hat?
That morning before he left her flat to go to work, Steve had casually mentioned that he’d kill to get his hands on tickets for the upcoming Chelsea Champion’s League opener in Stamford Bridge. In her line of work, piffling things like football tickets were simple to get, and since the beginning of their relationship she’d been arranging such tickets (corporate box tickets) on a regular basis. In fact, she did it so often that anyone would think Steve was seeing her just for easy access to the tickets, she thought grinning. But of course they’d be wrong.
“Your holiday tickets will be forwarded to your address within two working . . . actually, because you’re leaving at the weekend, it might be best if you collect them,” the travel rep told her.
“No problem, I’ll send a messenger,” Natalie said.
“And of course, you do realise that payment is completely non-refundable at this stage?”
“Of course.”
“Great. Well, thank you for booking with us, Ms Webb. I do hope that you and Mr Watson have a wonderful holiday.”
Oh, we will, Natalie thought, as she ended the call, you can count on it.
Chapter 6
“Mum, can you speak up a little? The line is very bad,” Tara urged, pressing her mobile phone more closely to her ear. But no amount of bad lines could obscure her mother’s disapproving sniff on the other end.
“It isn’t any wonder it’s a bad line, Tara,” she replied tetchily, “and it all the way out there in the desert!”
Isobel, who had never been abroad in her life, couldn’t understand the attraction people had for gadding off on these fancy holidays. And in the desert of all places! “How’s Glenn?” she added, almost yelling, and nearly taking the ear off her daughter in the process. Evidently she felt that her voice needed to be raised in order to carry all those thousands of miles so Tara could hear her. “Are the two of you drinking enough water? Or do you have to get it at one of those mirage things?”
Tara bit back a laugh. “Mum, I told you last week – Egypt isn’t just desert,” she said, her own voice instantly echoing back on the line. “We’re staying on the coast in this amazing holiday resort by the sea. Glenn’s out snorkelling on the coral reef as we speak.”
Yes, they were finally in Egypt and Glenn was in his element. He was a decent swimmer, but as he and Tara hadn’t taken too many holidays abroad over the years, he hadn’t tried snorkelling until now.
And, she thought, you could get no better introduction to the joys of snorkelling than in the waters of the Red Sea. Even as a non-swimmer, Tara had been able to enjoy the magnificent sea life around the reef of the Egyptian Sinai Peninsula from the jetty by peeking into the incredibly clear turquoise waters and watching a host of colourful tropical fish swim lazily at the edge of the coral reef.
They were staying in a spectacular and sinfully luxurious five-star hotel overlooking the reef, and since their arrival late Wednesday evening, Glenn had thrown himself with gusto into the huge variety of water sports available, leaving Tara relaxing by the hotel’s magnificent terraced pool. She didn’t mind. It was great to see him enjoying himself and all too soon they would be back home in Ireland to face the wet and cold winter.
Now sitting on her hotel balcony, which overlooked the peninsula’s extraordinarily beautiful coastline, Tara once more tried to reassure her mother that she and Glenn weren’t at risk of severe dehydration.
“We’re having a wonderful time,” she told Isobel. “I’ll take lots of photographs to show you and Dad. How is he, by the way? And Emma?”
“Your dad’s fine and sends his love!” her mother yelled back, but in the next instant her voice lowered and her tone changed as she added mournfully, “As for Emma, well, I suppose it’s getting to her that you can afford to go off sunning yourself in Egypt and not a bother on you, while she’s going through all this hardship on her own.”
Tara gritted her teeth. Bloody hell! What did they expect her to do – cancel her holiday just because Emma was pregnant? And if her little sister would stop chopping and changing jobs every six months or so, then she’d be well be able to “afford” to do it too! But of course it was futile pointing out this to her mother, or indeed pointing out the fact that Tara had been working non-stop for the last three years and might just have earned the chance to “sun herself”. Grrr!
“Well, I’ll have another chat with her when we get back,” she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. “Tell everyone I said hello, and we’ll see you all again soon.”
“How long will ye be there again?”
Not long enough, Tara stopped hers
elf from saying. “Ten days in all, Mum – we’ve another full week to go yet.”
“OK then, well . . . enjoy yourselves!” Isobel yelled once more, before ringing off.
Dressed in the soft squishy towelling robe and satin slippers the hotel provided, Tara stood up from the patio chair, switched off her mobile and went into the bedroom. Today she would be breakfasting alone. Although, blast it, she thought, gazing out at the brilliant blue sky, it was such a beautiful morning she might just skip breakfast altogether and head straight for the pool. Tara generally enjoyed a good lie-in on holidays, rather than running around at all hours scrambling to get a place by the pool before anyone else did. She didn’t care where she ended up – as long as it was under this glorious sun, little else mattered. But, as the hotel was busy, sun-loungers could be quite difficult to find unless you were up out of bed with the sun.
Still, that morning she was lucky. When she reached the lounge area of the first of the hotel’s three cascading pools, there were two recently vacated sun-loungers right alongside the water and, although it was unlikely Glenn would be using one, Tara threw his spare towel on it anyway. He’d have to emerge from the depths of the sea sometime today, and Tara had no intention of sharing her lounger. No, she was quite happy to lie there “sunning herself” all day long, only briefly stirring now and again to cool off in that fabulous pool.
While she’d thought the hotel’s luxurious Arabic-style architecture was impressive, the hotel pool area in itself was truly magnificent – a veritable “aqua-oasis” with its three cascading pools, surrounded by waterfalls, whirlpools and tiny grottos, all bordered by a variety of exotic palms and abundant pink and purple bougainvillea.
Yes, Tara thought, as she put on her sunglasses and lay back languidly on her sun-lounger, a relaxing morning here would be just perfect!
She’d been lying there a good hour and was deeply engrossed in the book she was reading when Glenn returned from his snorkelling, his skin still wet and his brown eyes shining happily.