by Paige Toon
‘I heard the news about you ending up in hospital, son.’ My eyes shoot towards Johnny as Eugen speaks these words. ‘Not good, my boy, not good,’ Christian’s dad continues.
Johnny shifts in his seat. I try to tear my eyes away, back to my chipped yellow mug, but I can’t. They’re fixed on him.
‘It was a stupid mistake,’ he says.
‘Mistake?’ Eugen scoffs. ‘Come on, now.’
I get the feeling that Eugen doesn’t cut Johnny any slack, no matter how rich or successful he’s become since he and Christian were little.
‘Ah, man . . .’ Johnny leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. ‘Not a mistake, but, well, stupid.’ His accent has an American twang to it, but he’s still unmistakably a British lad from up north.
‘You got that right,’ Eugen snaps.
Johnny says nothing, and it seems that he respects Christian’s old man. I’ve never seen them together before.
‘Yeah, aren’t you supposed to be still in rehab in LA?’ Joel chips in.
‘I got a day pass,’ Johnny drawls in his direction.
‘I hope you’re going back,’ Eugen interrupts.
Johnny shrugs. ‘Maybe.’
‘No “maybe” about it,’ barks Eugen.
Christian nudges me and I glance at him to see a small smirk on his face. This exchange doesn’t go unnoticed by Johnny, who raises his eyebrows at Christian. He doesn’t look at me.
‘How’s it going with Contour Lines?’ Johnny asks Christian.
‘You trying to change the subject?’ Christian teases.
‘Damn right I am,’ Johnny replies, pursing his lips at Eugen.
Christian chuckles and launches into an easy conversation. I’m vaguely pleased for him and his family that they have this distraction, even though I’m finding it hard to manage the simple task of sipping my tea. Johnny is steadfastly avoiding eye contact with me.
After a while, Eugen sighs. ‘I think I’m going to turn in.’ He heaves himself out of his chair. Johnny crosses the room to shake his hand.
‘I really am sorry,’ he says, awkwardly folding his arms in front of himself.
‘I know you are,’ Eugen replies, looking down.
‘I wish I could have made the funeral,’ Johnny adds, looking more sincere than I think I’ve ever seen him.
‘Don’t worry,’ Eugen replies. ‘I understand. No more getting into trouble!’
‘Yeah, okay.’
‘If Mandy were here she’d give you a battering.’ We all smile sadly at the thought, then Eugen sniffs. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, his eyes filling with tears. He brushes them away, but they make their descent down his cheeks. ‘I’ll see you all in the morning,’ he says.
On a sudden impulse, I stand up. ‘Let me see you upstairs.’ I take his hand.
‘No, no,’ he brushes me off.
‘Please,’ I insist. I want to tidy up a bit and make his bed for him, even though he’s about to get into it. More than anything, I don’t want him to walk into his marital bedroom alone on the night of his wife’s funeral.
‘You’re a good girl,’ he says, squeezing my hand and letting it go. I glance at Johnny and at that exact same moment, he locks eyes with me, sending shockwaves down my spine. We quickly look away from each other as Christian gets to his feet.
‘Thanks, love,’ he murmurs, rubbing my arm affectionately.
I turn away and hurry up the stairs, leaving Eugen to say goodnight to his sons.
Johnny used to call me a good girl. Maybe I was, once. Not anymore. Eugen is sadly mistaken.
When I return to the living room, fifteen minutes later, Christian and Johnny are alone. I hear a clinking sound coming from the kitchen and realise that Joel is washing up the last of the glasses.
‘Sit down,’ Christian commands, before I can leave the room. ‘You’ve done enough today.’
I take a deep breath and do as he says. Upstairs, my whole body felt awash with exhaustion. I probably should have gone to bed myself, but the pull to return to the living room was too strong.
‘I’ve been telling Johnny about our pad in Cucugnan,’ Christian says. ‘I said he should come to see us sometime.’
‘Oh, right,’ I manage to choke out. Johnny is watching my reaction. Hopefully he knows me well enough to understand he’s not welcome.
‘Are you working, Meg?’ Johnny asks, and I sense that he’s trying to act normal for Christian’s sake.
‘No. Being a mum keeps me busy enough,’ I reply, trying to inject some nonchalance into my tone. I should feel pleased that he’s not avoiding eye contact anymore, but I feel disconcerted instead.
‘She won’t trust anyone else with Barney,’ Christian explains, patting my knee.
‘Where is he at the moment?’ Johnny asks.
‘With Meg’s parents,’ Christian replies. ‘Toddlers and funerals don’t really mix.’
‘How old is he now?’ Johnny enquires, as though making polite conversation.
‘He’s just turned one.’ Thankfully, Christian answers again, because my entire body has gone rigid.
‘Oh, happy birthday for whenever,’ Johnny says, nonplussed. ‘I should have sent a card.’
The sound of breaking glass comes from the kitchen, followed in quick succession by Joel cursing. Christian puts his arm out to hold me back. ‘I’ll go,’ he says. I grip his hand tightly – I don’t want to be left alone with the man who was once the love of my life – but Christian gently extricates himself, gets to his feet and leaves the room.
I stay where I am, racked with tension. Johnny is the one to break the awkward silence.
‘Terrible about Mrs Pettersson,’ he says.
‘Awful.’ At last, something we agree on. Hang on . . . ‘Mrs Pettersson?’ I tease. ‘Didn’t you call her Mandy?’
He shrugs. ‘No.’
‘What about Eugen?’
‘No. He’s always been Mr Pettersson to me.’
‘That’s hilarious.’
‘It’s not that funny.’
‘It is pretty funny.’
‘Why?’
‘You’re thirty-three. I can’t believe you’re not on first-name terms.’
‘You remember how old I am.’ He raises one eyebrow.
‘Don’t read anything into it,’ I reply cuttingly, the smile gone from my face. ‘You’re the same age as my boyfriend.’
We fall silent. Joel and Christian sound like they’re still cleaning up the glass in the kitchen.
‘Where’s your girlfriend?’ I ask drily.
‘At her parents’,’ he replies.
‘She hasn’t bothered going back to rehab, then?’
He shakes his head and the corners of his lips turn down.
‘I don’t know why you bother, quite frankly,’ I comment.
‘Yeah, alright, Meg,’ he snaps. ‘I didn’t come here to get a lecture.’
‘Why did you come?’ The retort comes naturally, but I immediately feel stupid. He came because he’s known Christian’s family his entire life, of course. Johnny gives me a hard look and doesn’t dignify my question with an answer. I’m aghast to find myself blushing.
Christian walks back into the room and slumps on the sofa next to me. I tuck my knees up underneath myself and cosy in closer to him. Johnny averts his gaze and pushes his hair back off his face. He yawns.
‘You must be jet-lagged,’ Christian says. ‘Where are you staying?’
Johnny pats his pocket. ‘Don’t know. Some place in the city centre. Lena sorted it for me.’
Lena? She must be his current PA and I’m guessing his accommodation details are on the phone in his pocket. I feel a prickle of jealousy. I wonder what she’s like, if she’s better at her job than me. If he’s attracted to her . . .
‘I should probably get a cab.’ Johnny drags me out of my internal monologue.
‘You can crash here, if you like,’ Christian says. ‘Sofa’s free.’ He grins, but I can see that he’s tired. ‘But of course
I won’t be offended if you opt for five-star luxury instead.’
Johnny smiles back at him. ‘Thanks for the offer.’
Sarcasm?
‘When are you going back to Froggy Land?’ Johnny asks, his eyes flitting between Christian and me.
Christian answers. ‘Meg’s flying home tomorrow, but I’m sticking around for a few more days. What about you? When are you going back to LA?’
‘Tomorrow afty,’ Johnny replies.
‘Private jet?’ Christian checks.
‘Yep.’
‘EasyJet.’ Christian winks and jabs his thumb my way.
‘It’s not easyJet, actually,’ I say of the low-budget airline.
‘Alright, darling, don’t be pedantic,’ he says good-naturedly. ‘So what shall we do, get some sheets out or order a cab?’
Again Johnny’s eyes flit towards me. ‘I’ll stay,’ he says after a moment. ‘It’d be good to catch up properly tomorrow. If that’s alright.’
‘Of course it is,’ Christian replies.
I stand up. ‘I’ll get the bedding together.’
‘Meg,’ Christian says, a touch infuriated. ‘I can do it.’
‘It’s fine,’ I reply, leaving the room. When I return downstairs, the kitchen is empty and it appears Joel has gone to bed.
‘Thanks for coming,’ I hear Christian say from the living room.
I pause at the door and listen for a moment.
‘I wish I could have made the funeral. Didn’t think your family would thank me if I brought the press circus with me by accident.’
‘I know. Dad really appreciates you coming, too.’
‘It’s good to see him again.’
‘You took his mind off things for a bit.’
‘I hope so.’ Pause. ‘How are you holding up?’
Another pause. ‘I’m . . . okay. I miss her, though, you know?’
‘I know.’
There’s weight to that sentence. Because Johnny does know, of course. He lost his mother when he was barely a teenager.
Christian sniffs. ‘Oh, fuck,’ he mutters. ‘I thought I was all cried-out.’
My heart goes out to him, but my feet are rooted to the spot.
‘I’m sorry, mate,’ Johnny says softly. ‘I’m going to miss her, too.’
They both fall silent.
‘Where’s Meg with my fucking sheets?’ Johnny jokes, trying to clear the air.
Christian laughs. ‘She’s been a gem these last few days. I don’t know what I would have done without her.’
I wait to hear how Johnny will respond to that, but he says nothing. I step quietly back into the kitchen and then bustle through to the living room.
‘Here you go,’ I say. Johnny comes to take the sheets from me.
‘I’ll do it,’ he says, not meeting my eyes.
‘Alright, Johnny boy,’ Christian says, gently guiding me to the door. ‘See you in the morning.’
‘Goodnight,’ I say.
‘See you in the morning.’ I notice Johnny replies to Christian, but not to me.
Chapter 7
I wake up in the middle of the night. I feel groggy and my mind is a jumble of thoughts. I’d been having a dream about being absolutely parched and asking Johnny to pass me a bottle of water from the fridge. He did and then laughed when I couldn’t open it. I tried desperately to twist off the top, and then his laughter died and he stared at me furiously and watched as I failed.
I realise now that I’m thirsty for real. I climb out of bed and put on my dressing gown, then carefully navigate the stairs and head into the kitchen. The house is dark. The time on the oven says it’s two thirty-three a.m. I go to the fridge and open it. Light spills out as I reach in for a jug of filtered water. I pour some into a glass and gulp down a few mouthfuls, before refilling my glass and returning the jug to the fridge. I freeze as I get a whiff of cigarette smoke.
‘Johnny?’ I whisper. ‘Is that you?’ I close the fridge door and poke my head into the living room. I can see by the light on the TV’s LCD display that the sofa is empty. I hear the front door close gently and suddenly I’m face to face with Johnny.
‘What the fuck?’ he curses in a loud whisper. ‘You scared the living daylights out of me!’
‘Shh!’ I berate him. ‘I was getting a glass of water. I smelled the smoke,’ I explain.
‘Jesus!’ He’s still freaked out.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘What are you doing up at this time?’
‘Body clock’s buggered up,’ he says.
‘Do you want anything? Glass of water?’
‘No, I’m alright.’
‘Okay. Goodnight, then.’ I turn to go.
‘Meg!’ He calls me back.
‘What?’
‘Stay and talk to me for a while.’
I pause. My head tells me that I should go back upstairs, back to my Christian, but I find myself being pulled in the opposite direction and hate myself for it. I sit in Eugen’s armchair while Johnny returns to his makeshift bed on the sofa. He’s wearing his jeans and T-shirt from earlier.
‘What do you want to talk about?’ I ask uneasily.
He sighs. ‘I was just . . . thinking about you,’ he says carefully. ‘It’s been a long time.’
I nod.
‘Too long,’ he adds.
‘It’s been a while,’ I agree.
‘You seem happy.’ He sounds sincere.
‘I am,’ I tell him. Most of the time.
He smiles at me sadly. ‘It’s weird being back in this house. Staying here without Mrs Pettersson around.’
‘Did you know her well?’
‘I haven’t seen her much in recent years, but she looked after me, you know, when my mum got sick.’ His mum died of cancer. ‘I used to come and stay over when mum was in hospital. I’ll never forget that.’
My heart goes out to him. Johnny rarely talks about his mother’s death to anyone. It feels strangely natural to have him talk about her again to me. It must be to do with the darkness, the night – it’s catapulted us back to the way we once were.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.’
‘It’s okay. How could you?’ He pauses. ‘Rosa always asks Christian about you.’
‘Does she?’
‘At least, she used to,’ he adds. ‘She quit.’ He shrugs and tries to appear indifferent, but I can tell that he’s hurting.
‘She found you after the overdose, didn’t she?’ He glances up at me and nods slightly. ‘It doesn’t surprise me that she quit,’ I continue.
He looks down again. ‘I guess enough was enough for her.’
‘That’s very sad,’ I say and mean it. ‘She was part of the family.’
‘I know.’ He takes a deep breath and exhales loudly.
‘What about everyone else? I often think of them.’
‘Lewis, Samuel, Ted and Sandy are all still there.’ Sandy was the maid. The first three make up the security team.
‘What about Santiago?’
‘I knew you meant him,’ he says with a slight smile.
‘He was a friend!’ My voice rises. I don’t know why I sound defensive. He may have come to Johnny’s house only once a week to tend to the gardens and treat the pool, but I sometimes found myself chatting to him for hours.
‘Yeah,’ he replies. ‘He’s still there. Still smoking behind the garage . . .’
Once, when I was really stressed, Santiago gave me one of his cigarettes. Johnny saw and went bananas. He hated to think about anyone else corrupting me in any small way – I think he was actually jealous. That night he came into my room and into my bed . . . I shiver inadvertently.
‘You never became a smoker, then,’ Johnny continues.
‘Of course not,’ I retort. ‘I’m a mum. Anyway, it’s a filthy habit,’ I add with raised eyebrows.
He smirks. ‘Can’t argue with that.’
‘You should quit,’ I say.
‘There are a lot of things I should give up, Nutmeg, bu
t I rarely do.’ He stretches his arms over his head and smiles at me and it takes me a moment to realise he’s just called me Nutmeg, the term of affection he used for me.
I come to my senses with a start. ‘I’d better get back to bed before Christian misses me.’
‘Of course.’
‘Don’t get up,’ I tell him, but he’s already on his feet. He meets me by the door and leans against the doorframe. I suddenly feel jittery.
‘I’m glad you’re happy,’ he murmurs, looking into my eyes. ‘You deserve it.’ He touches my arm, briefly, tenderly. Lost for words, I turn away and hurry up the stairs.
Chapter 8
I finally fall asleep around dawn, when daylight has already started seeping under the blinds. Christian wakes me unintentionally at around seven o’clock in the morning.
‘Sorry,’ he says. He’s pulling on his jeans. ‘Go back to sleep.’
‘No, it’s okay. I’m awake.’
He comes over to the bed to take my hand. ‘I wish I could come home with you today.’
I look up at him in sympathy. ‘How long do you think you should stay?’
‘I guess I’ll play it by ear. Dad’s a bit of a mess.’
He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know.
‘I’m going to head downstairs. Please stay in bed,’ he urges. ‘We don’t have to leave for the airport for two hours.’
‘No, I’m coming down.’
He shakes his head in amused frustration and leaves the room. I climb out of bed and pull on some jeans and a purple top. I make a concerted effort not to bother with make-up. The guilt is well and truly back.
What the hell was I thinking, going into a room alone with him? What would Christian think? Actually, Christian would probably approve. He wants us all to be friends. He’s fallen out before with Johnny and they always patch things up. Thankfully, he and Christian weren’t speaking at the time I fell pregnant, so Johnny couldn’t put two and two together with his dates. It took them about a year to get back on good terms, and by then Barney had already been born. But Johnny turning up yesterday for such a momentous occasion will certainly cement their friendship. Unfortunately.
