Honeymoon For One

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘I mean, I really didn’t know when we met,’ I reply in my defence.

  Freddie and I are currently curled up on the outdoor sofa that sits outside the back door of his suite. It’s so dark up here it feels as if you can see every star in the sky. It’s a cooler night, but I have Freddie to keep me warm, as well as a mug of thick Italian hot chocolate (so thick I have to eat it with a spoon rather than drink it) and a lovely warm blanket.

  ‘I guess Ali found her way back to Max. I’m surprised he isn’t tired, after his long working days,’ I point out. ‘Ali says she thinks he’d sleep with anyone, to have a few nights out of the staff quarters. She told me the other day that, before the first time they hooked up, he took her back there – to have sex in his bunk bed, with his roommate on the bed below. That’s how I lost my suite and ended up in yours.’

  ‘And they say romance is dead,’ Freddie laughs. ‘I wonder what she did with Marty…’

  ‘You mean his body?’ I reply. ‘Probably at the bottom of the ocean.’

  ‘At least it means I can stay on vacation a little longer,’ he jokes. ‘At least until they find him.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ I say. ‘Even if she has chewed him up and spat him out.’

  ‘Oh, Marty always lands on his back,’ Freddie tells me. ‘He’ll be disappointing some other poor woman.’

  I snuggle deeper into Freddie’s embrace. I’ve never felt so safe… and yet still so fragile. I feel as if nothing bad can happen to me when Freddie is around. It feels impossible for anyone to hurt me… except him, of course. He could crush my heart in his hands.

  ‘Please don’t take any offence from this,’ I start with caution, even though this is a phrase usually adopted by someone who is about to cause a great deal of offence. ‘I can’t imagine you living a movie-star life.’

  ‘Would that be offensive?’ he asks curiously.

  ‘Well, look at Marty, for example,’ I start. ‘I’m sure he’s a great guy.’

  ‘He’s my manager, not my brother – or my dad, as Ali wonderfully joked. You can say it how it is about him.’

  ‘Well, he acts more like I would’ve expected you to act. Thinks he can have any girl he wants, treats them like prostitutes…’

  ‘I can treat you like a hooker if you want,’ Freddie jokes.

  ‘If that means you’re going to pay me, go for it,’ I reply.

  Jokes aside, Freddie is so unbelievably handsome and charming and funny, I do actually feel as if he should be invoicing me. For the acting work he’s doing for me, not the sex. Although I’d certainly command a much higher wage for that performance if I were him. The Freddie you see on the big screen – the Edward Eden character – is almost too sexy. Unrealistically, unattainably sexy. But the real Freddie, the one I slept with… there’s something far sexier about him.

  Freddie sweeps my hair from my face before taking my chin in between his thumb and his index finger and kissing me on the lips. He is somehow even more delicious than my hot chocolate.

  Sitting here, wrapped up in him, gazing at the stars and talking, pausing only to eat, drink or kiss, I can’t believe my luck. Somehow the worst thing that has ever happened to me has turned into the best thing that has ever happened to me. Well, sort of. Living in the moment, everything is amazing, but my heart has taken this little burst of joy and run away with it. I know that it’s one of the scariest things you can do, but I’m falling for Freddie. I need to know what he thinks the future holds.

  ‘I know what I’m supposed to be doing,’ Freddie says, resuming our conversation after yet another kissing break. ‘I should be driving expensive cars, full of drugs and Victoria’s Secret models, to my massive house in the hills.’

  I laugh to myself, because my life is more a case of driving the Ford Fiesta I share with Daniel, full of shopping and the grandma I just drove for it, to her retirement home in South Croydon. My, how the other half lives.

  ‘What’s stopping you?’ I ask.

  ‘I became an actor because I wanted to act. Edge of Eden might not be my first choice of role, but I’m so lucky to have landed it, and we’ve all got to start somewhere. I know that, if I do this, I’ll have my pick of whatever roles I want after.’

  ‘You don’t have that yet?’ I ask curiously.

  ‘Contracts,’ he tells me. ‘I’ve agreed to do the Eden trilogy, so I’ll have to wait until after that.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re Edward Eden,’ I say, laughing to myself. ‘You’re every woman’s fantasy.’

  ‘It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,’ he says. ‘It’s a bit full-on for me. I’m not used to it. I was still serving people drinks the day before I got the call to say the role was mine. Pretty much from the moment they announced my name, I knew that my life wouldn’t be the same. I just didn’t realise how different it would be.’

  Freddie pauses to sip his drink. He kisses me on the head before he continues.

  ‘I’m so thankful for the role, and to be financially comfortable, for myself and my family, but I never realised quite how lonely I would feel.’

  ‘You are on holiday on your own,’ I remind him.

  ‘Being alone and being lonely are two very different things,’ he tells me. ‘My life isn’t my own any more. I can’t grab a coffee without getting mobbed; people talk to me in the shower at the gym. Women are 100 per cent not interested in me at all – they think they’re flirting with Edward. I think that’s why we hit it off so quickly. At first I thought you didn’t care who I was… but then, when I realised you didn’t know, for the first time it felt like I could be myself, and that whether you loved me or hated me, it would be for me, not my job.’

  ‘And I was awful to you at first,’ I point out. ‘Well, from the day after anyway. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘You weren’t yourself,’ he reminds me. ‘You were hurt. You were also naked.’

  ‘Yeah, I was just so embarrassed,’ I admit. ‘But I’m still sorry.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ he replies. ‘All is well that ends well.’

  As I finish the last of my hot chocolate his words bounce around in my head. All is well that ends well – is this the end? The end of the beginning, perhaps. But what happens now?

  ‘You know how Arnold was blatantly talking about Jen and Kevin today – the Lord of the Rings couple,’ I remind him.

  ‘As though I could forget those two.’ He laughs. ‘But, yes, go on.’

  ‘What do you want to do? How do you see your future playing out? The version that doesn’t end with you being angry at your wife for not taking you on holiday to Mordor.’

  ‘One does not simply go on holiday to Mordor,’ Freddie jokes, in a northern accent far more convincing than his cockney. ‘What was it Arnold said? They were obsessing over the road less travelled? The road most often travelled is the one that appeals to me. Wife, kids, dog, house, soccer mom car.’

  ‘Can movie stars have that?’ I ask. ‘Won’t you be travelling the world?’

  ‘Well, I’ve been having trouble meeting girls who don’t march up to me and ask me to choke them,’ he jokes, although I suspect there is quite a lot of truth in it. ‘I don’t know. That’s how I ended up here. I panicked and ran away. Told Marty I needed a vacation – he said two weeks, which I guess is why he’s here now, trying to drag me back. I don’t know, when you turned up… I just didn’t want to leave. You make me feel normal.’

  ‘Wow, thanks.’ I laugh.

  ‘Not by comparison,’ he insists, but I already knew that. In a weird way, as surreal as all this is, he makes me feel normal too.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asks. ‘What road are you taking?’

  ‘I thought I was taking the well-travelled road,’ I say. ‘The safe route that everyone takes. But then Eva slashed my tyres and Daniel set the car on fire.’

  ‘A real writer’s metaphors,’ Freddie says. ‘Beautiful.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I reply. ‘I wanted to get married. Daniel and I had already bought a
house, we’d talked about filling it with kids. I saw myself spending my days writing books, looking after my house and my kids, cooking fantastic-looking family meals on an evening – of course, I’d have to learn how to cook before I could get to that stage, but it feels like the least of my worries now. Just pure domestic bliss – but the kind where I am also a strong independent woman with my own income.’

  ‘That sounds good,’ Freddie says.

  ‘Too good to be true,’ I reply.

  ‘It sounds like we want similar things, doesn’t it?’ he points out.

  ‘Yeah, it’s a shame we live on different continents,’ I reply. I don’t know why I’m making a joke of it, when all I want to do is tell him that I think I’m falling for him, that I don’t want to go back to my miserable life without him. I just can’t muster up the guts to tell him. So much for being a strong woman.

  ‘Well, we’re on the same continent now,’ Freddie says, lightly brushing my bare arm with the back of his hand.

  ‘We are,’ I reply.

  With the inexplicable confidence Freddie fills me with, I find myself running my hand down his body.

  In one swift movement, Freddie lies back on the sofa, pulls me down on top of him, and whips the cover over us. Movie-worthy choreography.

  This moment, here under the stars, with this incredible man who I’m sure I don’t deserve the attention of, might just be the most perfect moment of my life… at least were it not for the sound of Ali and her plus one grunting.

  35

  Day 12

  ‘Have you ever noticed how time passes much quicker when you’re having a good time?’ Freddie asks.

  ‘Oh, definitely, I’ve definitely noticed the opposite too – how slowly it moves when you’re bored at work or feeling under the weather.’

  ‘Yeah, sometimes when I’m on set, there’s lots of waiting involved and it can drag on forever,’ he continues. ‘Or when I’m supposed to be learning lines. I’ve got the script for the Eden sequel hidden away in my case. I’m supposed to be reading it – I told Marty that’s what I needed this break to do – but I just never seem to get anywhere.’

  I shuffle up to Freddie on the sofa. He places an arm around me and pulls me closer, even if it is already roasting hot this morning.

  ‘I totally get it though,’ I reassure him. ‘It’s like me, with this book I’m trying to write. I never wanted to be working on my honeymoon. At first I convinced myself that it would be a good distraction, something to keep me busy, and then I realised that I needed to start again, which only tightened the noose. Everyone thinks I must have it so great with my job. No boss watching me work, no office to drag myself out of bed to every day… I wish it were that simple. No one stops to think that, actually, being self-employed is a nightmare. I never know how much money I’ll be earning from one month to the next; I never know if my last contracted book might be my last ever book. And then there’s the fact that, no matter what is going on in my life, I pretty much have no choice but to work. No matter how messed up my head feels or how unwell I am – times when being creative is the hardest thing to imagine – I know that I have no choice but to make myself work. And there are no bank holidays, no maternity leave. Just me, alone, knowing I’ve got to get this work done, no matter what. No one has my back.’

  I take a deep breath, because I think I said all of that on an exhale.

  I look at Freddie’s furrowed brow and realise I got too gloomy too quickly.

  ‘I understand why you feel so stressed,’ he replies.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I think I just needed to spit that out.’

  ‘Well, my plan has completely backfired,’ he admits. ‘The idea wasn’t to get you thinking about work at all – this was just my convoluted way of getting you to look at the date.’

  ‘The date?’ I reply. It’s my turn to furrow my brow. I look at my watch. ‘It’s the 10th.’

  Freddie stares at me blankly.

  ‘The 10th,’ I repeat. ‘The… oh, my God.’

  Freddie just laughs.

  ‘Well, I feel like an idiot,’ I confess, feeling my cheeks start to flush with the fire of a million suns.

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up,’ he says. ‘We’ve all forgotten our own birthday at least once.’

  ‘Really?’ I ask.

  ‘Erm…’ Freddie laughs awkwardly. ‘Look, you’ve been through a lot and no one knows what date it is when they’re on holiday – no one even knows what day it is. Let alone whether it’s their birthday.’

  I nod thoughtfully until something occurs to me.

  ‘Wait, how do you know it’s my birthday?’

  ‘I had a peep when I hid your passport,’ he jokes. ‘Or maybe Ali told me.’

  I smile. The idea of celebrating my birthday here by myself was one of the main things that gave me pause when I decided to run away.

  ‘I see,’ I reply with a smile.

  ‘So, we’re going for brunch,’ he says. ‘You, me, Ali and Marty – it was Marty who organised it. We came up with a plan together. He made the arrangements last night.’

  We might’ve got off on the wrong foot, but Marty doesn’t sound all that bad. I’m not sure how happy Ali will be – I hope she doesn’t think this is a double date that I’m sneaking on her. I am blown away though – brunch sounds amazing.

  As I get ready, there’s a real spring in my step, which is surprising, given how much my thigh muscles are aching. It’s a good ache though, like the kind you get after you’ve been to the gym. It’s uncomfortable, sure, but I know that it’s because I’ve been having a great time.

  I never really thought Daniel and I were boring in the bedroom but now that I’ve got this spark with Freddie, it’s easy to see what was missing between the sheets before.

  I’m walking on air today. Just very carefully.

  It isn’t just things with Freddie and my birthday plans that are making me giddy – today is also the final day of Mr & Mrs Valentine Island and I’ve got a good feeling about it. We’ve done so well so far, I think we might just be able to do this. I’ve never won anything before – not even one pound on a scratchcard – and, given that this is skill-based, I feel especially proud of myself for coming so close. Even if I go home a loser, telling myself it’s the taking part that counts, I know that I’ve done well. With a ‘winner takes all’ final round, if I do lose it will be both comforting and frustrating to know that Freddie and I won every other round.

  As we step out of the villa and into the sunshine we come face to face with Ali and Marty, kissing in the doorway of my suite.

  ‘Good morning,’ Marty announces with a boastful yawn.

  ‘Morning,’ I reply, before turning to Freddie and lowering my voice. ‘I’ll just go ask Ali what she was thinking.’

  ‘Yeah, send similar regards from me,’ he says through the gritted teeth of a fake smile.

  I hurry past Marty, ushering my bestie back inside. I close the door behind us.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask her.

  ‘Kissing,’ she says simply. ‘By the way, happy birthday! Your present is at home.’

  ‘I meant in a more general sense,’ I clarify. ‘Don’t change the subject. You said you didn’t fancy him… but thank you very much, that’s very kind of you.’

  I struggle to maintain the sternness in my voice.

  ‘I didn’t,’ Ali replies. She hugs herself thoughtfully. ‘I kind of don’t but… I don’t know. He was right, I guess. He is charming sometimes. He’s got good banter, he kept me on my toes all night.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s definitely what it sounded like from next door,’ I joke.

  ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘I don’t know – you know when you meet someone and you’re just like “that’s a bit of me, that is”?’

  ‘Yeah. You said that about Max a matter of days ago,’ I remind her.

  ‘That was physical,’ she says. ‘Physically Marty is maybe not my type, I guess, because he’s a little older… but…’
<
br />   I see something in Ali that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. She shuffles awkwardly on her feet, her cheeks blush slightly… she’s embarrassed.

  ‘You actually like him,’ I point out. ‘Sometimes I’m not even sure if you like me, and I’m your best friend, but with this guy… you just like him.’

  ‘Please don’t tell anyone,’ she insists. ‘Definitely don’t tell him. I don’t know what to do with it yet.’

  ‘Of course, I won’t,’ I tell her.

  ‘This is your fault,’ she tells me, sounding a little pissed off all of a sudden. ‘You caught feelings for Freddie and now you’ve passed it on to me. I’ve caught feelings for Marty.’

  ‘You can’t catch feelings,’ I tell her. ‘But… if you could… yeah, I’ve definitely caught them for Freddie. What the hell am I going to do?’

  ‘He’s clearly into you,’ she assures me. ‘And he’s such a good person. He doesn’t have a secret wife or keep a mini tripod in his pocket for making X-rated home movies…’

  ‘I really hope you’re not talking about Marty, but I’m almost certain you are.’

  ‘You know, he actually is separated from his wife,’ Ali tells me in hushed tones. ‘We had a chat last night, about how they’re not together, how he misses his kids. He got really emotional and normally that would turn me right off but, I don’t know, all I wanted to do was comfort him, stop him sobbing.’

  ‘It wasn’t sobbing I heard last night,’ I insist.

  ‘No, what you heard was what happened after,’ she admits. ‘It’s the only real way I know how to cheer men up.’

  I feel better, seeing my cheeky friend rear her head. I worry so much about Ali because she’s not as tough as she seems. This bravado is all an act, to try and stop herself from getting hurt. She’s fashioned herself as some sort of man-eater to give herself a fail-safe, so that if things go pear-shaped or if someone tries to break her heart, she has this shield, this out – she acts as if she doesn’t care, but she does.

  Ali made me swear that I’d never tell anyone – in fact, she made me swear I’d never so much as privately think about it again – but one night a few years into our friendship she confessed something to me: that she was married. I damn near spat my cocktail all over her when she told me, and I’m pretty sure she only told me because she was drunk, but she had been married and divorced by the time she hit her mid-twenties, and the reason is her husband cheated on her. That’s why she puts up this front now; that’s why she didn’t want me to marry Daniel. She isn’t a fan of marriage because she thinks it’s the biggest mistake she’s ever made. For her to have hit it off with Marty like this, she must feel something strong.