Baby Be Mine

by Paige Toon

  He nods and stands up before I do. ‘Me, too.’

  He holds his hands down to me. I hesitate for a split second before taking them. His grasp is warm and firm as he pulls me to my feet, and then I’m standing right in front of him, holding his hands and looking up into his troubled eyes. It’s the second time this evening that a room has felt too small. I want to step backwards but the sofa is there. My heart starts to beat quicker, but I can’t look away. And then he lets go of my hands and puts his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. He rests his chin on the top of my head and my pulse starts to return to normal. This is just a hug. He’s not going to try to kiss me. I relax into him as he holds me tenderly and it feels like the most natural place in the world for me to be. Neither of us speaks, but I know he’s sorry. I know he regrets what he’s done to me. Eventually he lets me go and smiles down at me sadly. I feel at peace with him for the first time, possibly ever.

  ‘Night, night, Nutmeg,’ he says softly, squeezing my hand one last time before letting it go.

  I smile up at him before pulling a funny face. ‘Hang on, you don’t even know which room you’re sleeping in.’

  He pulls a sad face. ‘I thought I was sleeping in yours?’

  ‘Oi!’ I whack him on his arm. ‘You can’t give me one nice cuddle and then expect to get into my pants.’

  He laughs. ‘Can’t I?’

  ‘No, you bloody can’t!’ Obviously he’s joking.

  ‘Come on, then. See me to my room.’

  ‘You can see yourself there. Up the stairs, down the corridor, second one to your right. I’ve got to clean up the kitchen.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ He frowns, taking my hand again. ‘The kitchen can wait until the morning.’

  ‘What, when you get up at seven and come downstairs with your rubber gloves on?’

  ‘I might surprise you,’ he teases.

  ‘Alright, then,’ I concede as he leads me to the stairs, switching off lights as he goes. ‘I’ll have a lie-in.’

  He chuckles softly. We reach his bedroom door. ‘This is you,’ I say.

  ‘Where’s your room?’ he asks.

  ‘I’m not telling you.’

  ‘What, in case I can’t keep my hands to myself in the middle of the night?’

  ‘Exactly. Not like that hasn’t happened before,’ I reply with a knowing look. He leans against the doorframe. Butterflies flit around my stomach, the earlier sickness a distant memory.

  ‘Give me another hug,’ he says, out of the blue. I giggle as I allow him to wrap his arms around me and hold me tight. It feels so right to be this close to him. I’ve missed him. Hang on, I’ve never felt this close to him. He gives me one last squeeze and then pulls away and opens his door.

  ‘Sleep tight,’ he says with a grin.

  ‘Goodnight, Johnny Jefferson,’ I reply and turn away. He spanks my bum.

  ‘Ow!’ I squawk to the sound of his laughter as he shuts the door in my face.

  I go to bed that night feeling warm and happy and drunk with contentment. But in the middle of the night when I wake up, as I have done every night since I met that famous green-eyed rock star, my happiness turns to unease and I know that I have to be careful if I don’t want to get hurt again.

  Chapter 47

  ‘Didn’t George Harrison use to live in Henley?’ Johnny asks as we pass a gated mansion. It’s Sunday, late morning, and we’re going for a walk into Henley.

  ‘I don’t know, did he?’

  ‘Yeah, you know George Harrison,’ he says facetiously. ‘Used to be in The Beatles.’

  ‘Who are The Beatles?’ I ask innocently. He smirks down at me. He’s always teasing me about my lack of taste in – and knowledge about – music. ‘I also remember that Morrissey used to be a member of The Smiths.’

  ‘Oh, well done,’ he says.

  I still recall the time when I first went to work for Johnny in LA, going outside onto the terrace to hear him singing a song by The Smiths. I asked him if it was one he’d written. He wasn’t too impressed.

  ‘How far away is this playground?’

  ‘A bit of a walk. You need the exercise,’ I tease.

  ‘MEG!’ I hear a shout as we walk along the river. There’s a small fun fair in the local park and we’re on our way to let Barney go on the carousel.

  ‘Oh, God,’ I moan under my breath. It’s one of my new friends, Liz, who I met at Barney’s weekly playgroup. Johnny stops and turns around, distracting Barney with some bread for the ducks.

  ‘Hello!’ I say as she approaches.

  ‘I thought that was you!’ she calls, with a big grin on her face. She’s with her husband, Guy, who I’ve met a couple of times, and he’s carrying their two-year-old, Sam, on his shoulders. ‘Where’s Barney?’ she asks, looking around and then spotting him. ‘Oh, there he is. Hello, Barney!’

  I realise with a sigh that there’s no escaping this. Johnny turns around and follows Barney over. The look on Liz’s face when she sees him is a picture.

  ‘This is my friend—’ I start to say.

  ‘John,’ Johnny interrupts, holding out his hand.

  ‘Oh, er, hi!’ Liz replies, taken aback, her gaze flitting between us. She’s clearly confused.

  ‘Hi, there,’ Guy says when the introductory handshake comes his way. ‘You all enjoying the sunshine?’

  ‘Oh, aye, it’s grand,’ Johnny says with a wink. Liz looks even more disconcerted.

  ‘We’re about to take Barney on the carousel,’ I tell her.

  ‘We’ve just come from there,’ she says with a smile, her eyes going up to Johnny’s again.

  This is silly. I’m going to have to tell her. But not now; next time.

  ‘Are we still going to Monkey Music on Tuesday?’ I ask casually.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she says, backing away. ‘See you then.’

  ‘We’ll be there!’

  ‘See you again,’ Guy says merrily. ‘Enjoy the weekend.’ He’s still none the wiser.

  ‘You, too!’ Johnny and I reply before turning away. I look down to see Barney’s shoelace is undone. I bend down to tie it.

  ‘Have they gone?’ I ask under my breath.

  ‘Yes. Oh, no,’ he gives me a running commentary. ‘No, she’s just said something to him and now he’s looking over his shoulder.’ He starts to whistle under his breath as though completely unaware of the attention.

  ‘What are they doing now?’ I whisper up at him.

  ‘His jaw has just hit the ground.’

  ‘Look away! Look away!’ I exclaim. He grins down at me.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Nutmeg. People were going to find out sooner or later.’

  ‘I was hoping it would be later.’

  ‘They might keep it quiet,’ he says reasonably.

  I stand back up and sigh. ‘I suppose they might just assume you look like him. Surely she wouldn’t really think I was with Johnny Jefferson.’

  ‘Exactly,’ he says chirpily. ‘Come on, let’s go on the merry-go-round.’

  ‘You’re not going on, are you?’

  ‘Course I am.’

  ‘Are you trying to draw attention to yourself?’ I ask with amazement. He just shrugs. We set off in the direction of the fairground.

  ‘I can’t believe you said your name was John,’ I mutter under my breath.

  All too soon, Johnny is gone again. April turns into May, but this time we keep in touch by phone. Soon it’s Barney’s second birthday, and Johnny takes a break from recording his new album to pay us a visit. We have a small party for our son at home – my parents come over from France, and Susan, Tony and Bess join us as well. But Christian’s presence is what really makes my day. He missed Barney’s first birthday, and the fact that, one year on, we can all be here together – Johnny, too – and no longer be living a lie . . . I feel lighter than ever.

  But even though I want him to stay, Johnny goes back to LA to carry on with his recording.

  ‘How’s it all going?’ I ask
him during one Skype session, when Barney has got bored with sitting in front of the computer and looking at his father’s face, and has gone off to play with his toys.

  ‘Pretty well, I think,’ Johnny admits, leaning back in his chair.

  ‘Have you got all your songs ready to go?’ I ask.

  ‘I’ve written them all, yes,’ he says. ‘A few about Barney in there.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘A few about you, too,’ he adds.

  ‘No!’ I can’t help smiling even though I feel shy. Then it’s back to reality with a bump. ‘And Dana?’ I try to sound offhanded, but fail.

  ‘Yeah, she’s in a couple,’ he says and my heart sinks. ‘Not very flattering, mind.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ I say, perking up.

  He chuckles and leans in, putting his elbows on the desktop. I sit back in my seat. This may be only a virtual chat and he may be five and a half thousand miles away, but I still need my personal space.

  ‘I was thinking about coming over at the end of June, beginning of July,’ he says.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I want to go to the Goodwood Festival of Speed,’ he explains.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A motor-racing event. I’ve been asked to display my new Bugatti and to drive.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had a new one.’

  ‘It’s being flown in from France in time for the event. It’s a convertible.’

  ‘Nice.’ He always did fancy himself as a bit of a racing driver.

  ‘Anyway, I wondered if you and Barney might fancy coming with me. He’d like the cars,’ he says.

  ‘Oh, right, yes! Of course,’ I say. ‘It sounds pretty high-profile, though, doesn’t it?’

  ‘If you’re worried about blowing your cover,’ he says, staring at me through the computer with his penetrating eyes, ‘then yes, it will probably do that.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘But maybe it’s time?’ he says with a shrug.

  ‘Maybe.’ I look down at the keyboard and then back up at him. He’s still staring at me. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  Christian calls the next day to arrange a visit and I ask him what he thinks.

  ‘Go,’ he says straight away.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You can’t hide out forever,’ he says. ‘It’s about time. Dana’s off the scene, so you shouldn’t get the level of press disruption you got last time. It’s your last hurdle and then you can get on with your life without living in fear the whole time.’

  ‘I’m hardly living in fear,’ I scoff.

  ‘It’s on your mind, though, isn’t it?’ he presses. ‘Being discovered.’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  I never did tell Liz about Johnny, and, incredibly, no one else paid him any attention while he was sitting on a tiny car going round and around with Barney on his lap. Liz did comment, wide-eyed, that my friend – because that’s all I said we were – looked like Johnny Jefferson. I just laughed it off and said she wasn’t the first person to say that. It wasn’t a lie – it just wasn’t the whole truth. I know she’ll understand my need for privacy when it does come out.

  ‘You should go,’ he says again, more resolutely.

  ‘Maybe you could come,’ I suggest. ‘It might be something you’d enjoy.’

  ‘I’m on holiday with Sara,’ he replies.

  ‘Aah, nice. Where are you going?’ I try to sound casual and interested, as a friend would be. I haven’t met her since Christian’s book launch. I get the feeling she doesn’t like me much. And why should she? I wouldn’t like me either if I knew what she knew.

  ‘Tuscany,’ he replies. He pauses. ‘Did Johnny tell you I saw him in LA last week?’

  ‘No?’ God knows why not.

  ‘I was over there tying up some loose ends for the Contour Lines biography – my editor wanted an epilogue before it went to print,’ he explains. ‘I gave him a call and we caught up.’

  ‘Wow.’ After everything they’ve been through, is there really hope for their friendship?

  ‘He apologised.’ He laughs.

  ‘No way!’

  ‘Yes. He really did.’

  I’m aghast.

  ‘He seemed well,’ he continues. ‘Better than I’ve seen him in a long time.’

  ‘He’s still sober, then?’

  ‘Surely you know that,’ he chides. Of course I should do, if I believe it.

  ‘I guess so,’ I reply non-committally.

  ‘He certainly is as far as I can tell,’ he says kindly.

  ‘Have you forgiven him?’ I ask.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so. But it’s harder to hate. It’s harder on me,’ he qualifies.

  ‘I know what you mean. Look at poor Robbie.’

  ‘Robbie?’

  ‘Robbie Williams. There was so much animosity between him and the rest of Take That, it really screwed him up. Now they’re all friends again and I’ve never seen him so happy.’

  He says nothing for a long moment, then he cracks up laughing. ‘I cannot believe you’re comparing Johnny and me to Robbie and Take That.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. You’ve made me laugh. That’s always a good thing.’

  ‘Oh, bugger off,’ I joke.

  ‘I’ve got to go, anyway. Sara’s on her way over.’

  ‘Say hi to her from me.’ I try to sound flippant.

  ‘You know I won’t,’ he says and I know he’s grinning as he hangs up.

  Chapter 48

  I’m excited. I’ve got our bags packed for a three-night stay and Johnny is coming to pick us up at any moment. He called me from the airfield to say he was on his way. I’m nervous for some reason. I haven’t seen him since Barney’s birthday in May, weeks ago, but we’ve spoken on Skype every few nights since. I’ve felt closer to him this last couple of months. At peace with him, in a weird kind of way. I’m able to admit to myself that I can’t wait to see him again.

  The doorbell goes and I literally run down the corridor and swing it open, half out of breath.

  ‘Alright?’ Johnny says.

  ‘Hello!’ I exclaim, resisting a wild urge to throw my arms around him and hug him half to death. He gives me a funny look. ‘Come in!’ I say, moving out of the way. I’m unable to wipe the enormous smile from my face as he steps warily across the threshold.

  ‘You’re in a good mood,’ he comments.

  ‘And? Is that a crime?’

  He shrugs. ‘Not at all. Are you all set?’ He glances down at the bags in the hall.

  ‘We certainly are.’ I turn and call down the corridor, ‘Barney! Daddy’s here!’ Johnny heads off in search of his son. ‘He’s in the living room,’ I say. ‘Do you want a drink?’

  ‘Nah, let’s get on the road.’

  ‘Okay.’ I beam at him again. I think that my enthusiasm is entertaining him. Or maybe it’s just freaking him out.

  ‘Hey, little buddy!’ he says warmly when Barney appears around the corner.

  ‘Daddy!’ Barney shouts. Johnny still hasn’t got used to him saying it, even though he says it all the time. Literally, all the time. I can barely get a word in when Barney is in the room during our Skype sessions.

  Johnny lifts him up for a cuddle, but Barney twists around and holds his hand out to me, so I step in.

  ‘Family hug,’ I joke, as Johnny wraps one arm around me and looks down at me with amusement. I rest my cheek on his chest and close my eyes for a second before gazing up at a giggly Barney.

  ‘Famwee hug,’ Barney repeats. Johnny and I glance at each other and laugh.

  With the traffic on the M25 the journey takes a long time, but Johnny makes up for our delays once we hit the country roads. It’s a perfect English summer’s day. There are just a few white fluffy clouds in the sky, and the sunshine manages to find us even when the roadside is densely populated by leafy green trees.

  ‘I forgot how fast you drove,’ I say as I clutch onto the armrest. Barney is fast as
leep in the back. We’ve had time to catch up on each other’s news, and I’ve just found out that, sadly, Shelley has had a miscarriage. ‘How is your dad taking it?’ I ask.

  ‘He’s bloody delighted,’ he mutters with disgust.

  ‘Is he still with that other woman?’

  ‘God knows. I don’t want to hear anything about it.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ I exhale loudly. ‘Argh!’ Another corner; too fast.

  ‘Chill out, babe.’ He reaches across and pats my thigh, completely unaware that his touch has left me tingling.

  We’re staying at a hotel about twenty minutes’ drive from Goodwood. The organisers at the Festival of Speed have booked us two rooms right across from each other – one of which is the hotel’s spacious signature room, with a four-poster bed, vaulted ceiling and a wood-burning stove. A travel cot has been placed in the second, smaller room, but Johnny immediately wants to swap Barney and me to the larger room.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I say. ‘We’ve got more than enough space.’

  ‘I feel bad, though,’ he replies.

  ‘You? Feel bad? You’ve got to be kidding me. We’ll be fine. More than fine. Anyway,’ I say with a smirk, ‘we couldn’t possibly deny you the luxury that you’ve grown so used to.’

  He gives me a look and I laugh as I bustle Barney into our room. Johnny stands at the doorway. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’

  ‘Sure. I’m just going to unpack, because I’m anal like that.’

  ‘Come on,’ he moans.

  ‘Patience . . .’ I warn. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes. Not like I’ve brought the house with me.’

  He comes in and sits on the bed.

  ‘Why don’t you take Barney down to the garden to see the peacocks?’ To our son’s delight there were a couple wandering around earlier. ‘I’ll be there in a sec.’

  ‘Alright,’ he says glumly. ‘Come on, buddy.’

  ‘Can you take the buggy?’ I call after him.

  ‘I told you before, I don’t do buggies.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ I give him a comically withering look. ‘What will you be like if you get married one day and have more kids? What’s your poor wife going to do?’

  Even though I say this flippantly, the horrible thought of him settling down with some strange woman and having children with her suddenly makes me feel quite sick. I avert my gaze. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll bring it.’