Two days ago I had made a decision. I went to the police and told them everything that happened to me back in two thousand and twelve in The Priory. The papers had been full of speculation since my Happy Morning appearance. I don't think I really believe Harry did it. I certainly hope for his sake, that he's telling the truth, because an investigation has started and the truth is due an appearance.
Men.
That's the focus for this month—the truth about Men.
Col turns down the street and I spot my new home and point. 'There, that one.'
He pulls up in my driveway. I like thinking that. My driveway. A huge smile breaks out across my face and I leap out of the car.
'Come on.'
Col stands at the side of the car, looking at the house's exterior.
'Ronnie. This is just so,' he stops speaking.
'What?' I panic.
'Normal,' He blurts. 'I was expecting turrets, or something.'
'I'm growing up, Col,' I tell him, and grab his hand to take him inside.
'So this can be my dressing room. I'll have closets and space for all my shoes, and a huge area for trying things on and three hundred and sixty degree mirrors. Then this room will be a gym. This one will be my spa room and I'll have comfy couches and tranquil music, like they do after treatments, and I can have a massage table, so people can come to me to do my massages. Then I have a study downstairs, and I’ll have to show you the garden in a minute.'
I can't stop talking. I pull Col from room to room explaining what each one is going to be.
I show him the largest main bedroom with ensuite, 'and this is my bedroom.'
Col sits on the end of the bed. 'The house is just gorgeous, Ronnie, not what I was expecting at all. I'm almost speechless. I can see how excited you are with your vision for the place. You'll make it a fantastic home.'
'Thank you.'
'I can see how wrong I was about the penthouse now.'
I sit at the side of him and place my hand over his. 'A while ago you wouldn't have been wrong at all. This house spoke to me when I saw it.'
'It's going to be a great single girl’s pad.'
I go quiet.
'That's okay, Ronnie. I can see you want to pretty it all up. It's fine.'
'Do you mean you would've moved in, if I'd asked?'
'Let's not get into this now Ronnie. You shouldn't feel pressure off me when you're enjoying showing off your home.'
I tug on his hand and take him across the landing. I push open a door.
'This bedroom,' I tell him. 'Is your man cave. You could fit it with gaming equipment, surround sound etcetera. Downstairs there's another room that could be your home office.'
He looks at me.
'The place is huge, Col. While I'm sure I can be perfectly happy here by myself. I'd be gloriously happy if you wanted to move in with me?'
I hold my breath, as I daren't listen to the answer.
'I would love to live here with you, Ronnie Huntington-Jones.' Col crushes his lips to mine. 'Now let's christen that main room.'
We drive back to our apartments. I keep stealing glances at Col. I can't believe we're moving in together.
'Won't it be difficult, not being next to the coffee shop?'
'It'll be different. If I'm having a chain, I'm going to get some more staff in. I'll put a Manager in each branch and oversee things. It'll give me more freedom. That house is beautiful. I'll enjoy spending time there, especially if your own beautiful body is in it.'
My brow furrows.
'What?'
'Don't you think by increasing the chains, you're starting a huge business off again? How will you relax if there are problems that need you?'
He sighs, 'You're right. I just can't help myself. Instead of settling for one well-loved branch. It's gone to my head that it's done so well and I've hit the ground running with it. The answer is I don't know, Ronnie. You seem to think you have to find yourself, but you don't realise that none of us know who the fuck we are.'
'I guess you're going to have to show me this business empire you've been thrust into.'
'I will. When does your social diary next have a free date, Miss Celebrity?'
'Friday. Then I want to see the Fernsby that's been hidden away from me.'
His brow creases. 'There's nothing very exciting to see, Ronnie. It's the bit I've tried to escape from.'
'Yet for some reason you can't, and you find it impossible to let go. There's part of you wrapped up in that empire, whether it's because of your father's expectations or not. Will I meet him?'
'Do you want to meet him?'
'I think I do.'
'Well then, Miss Huntington-Jones. I will see if I can arrange it. Right, I'm off to see how Rachel's done. What are you up to?'
'Cinema night with Nina.'
'Okay, have fun.'
He gives me another crushing kiss. 'See you later?'
'I'll be back around eleven.' I tell him. We stand there kissing for another five minutes, neither of us wanting to let go.
'You're moving in together? Ronnie, that's fantastic news.' says Nina.
'I know. I can't believe it. After the beginning of this year, I thought we were over for good. He loves the house. Thinks it's the perfect place for us.'
'You'll be getting married next.'
I think of last Christmas. 'Oh, no rush for that. It's Stella's turn. Speaking of which. Do you know, that when I called her she was so unenthusiastic. Said she would have been more than happy to get married at City Hall, but Maddie got all excited about it being her first son's wedding and booked The Plaza. She doesn't know how lucky she is. I'd love to get married somewhere like that. All dressed up like a princess.'
Nina laughs, 'I bet you know exactly what your dress would look like.'
'I do,' I nod. 'I'd want a white version of Elsa's dress from Frozen.'
Nina looks blank.
'The Disney film? Frozen? Don't tell me you haven't seen it, Nina?'
'Why would I? I'm a grown up.'
I gasp. 'So am I, and I've watched it at least eleven times. Right. Next week, no cinema. You are coming to mine to watch Frozen.'
Nina groans.
'For that groan you have to wear a tiara throughout the film. You don't need to bring one though, I have one.'
'I thought you might.' She looks at me, shaking her head. 'You're crackers.'
'I'm in love.'
'Yeah, rub it in why don't you?'
I give her an apologetic look. 'Pussy still going without milk?'
'Ronnie!'
'Get it a toy to play with.'
'I'm not having this conversation. Watch the film.'
'Spoilsport.'
Wednesday 9 April 2014
I receive a message on set that I've been nominated for Television Personality of the Year. Art tells me I'll have 'sod all chance of winning it against that Ant and Dec,' but I don't care. In two weeks time I get to wear a glamorous gown and mingle with all the stars of the small screen. They make a huge fuss of it on the programme. Then Nino makes me a cake that looks like a shoe, so it's a fabulous day.
Checking my texts afterwards in the Green Room, I read one from Ophelia. She is also attending the Awards. She's going as some guy's arm candy. Her text says she'll ditch him as soon as she's through the door and come and hang out with me. I'm so happy right now I could burst. I leave the set and head for the shops. I have outfits to look at.
Thursday 10 April 2014
After class I go over to Harry's to work on the foundations of my border. I think the people who watch me on TV would get a shock if they saw me now. My hair is pulled back in a messy bun. I'm wearing clothes and boots covered in mud, and I'm currently in possession of a spade, and it's not Kate. My only concession to luxury is the Creme de la Mer moisturising cream I’ve applied to my face to protect it from the unforgiving weather. Today is brisk and breezy.
My plan for Harry's garden is a beach theme. I thought about him entertaining
in the summer. There's elements of sand, pebbles and the bedding arrangement forms a vanilla ice cream cornet. I’ll be placing some deckchairs and pot seagulls around, and making a shallow pond-come water feature.
At the moment it's a boggy piece of garden with spray painted out areas. Today I'm planting some of the more hardy flowers as the risk of frost has lessened.
Again, I've chosen a piece of ground near to the house. Harry has an outside fridge and barbecue nearby, which will be perfect to complement the garden.
'Nah, I'm still not convinced that a wee lass like yourself can build me a garden.' The man himself says, coming to stand beside me. 'Hand us the spade and let me do a little of the work.'
'No. I need to do it myself.'
'Why? It's just the design you're being graded on, isn't it?'
'Yes, but…'
'So shurrup woman and let me have a go.'
He takes the spade, digs for about five minutes, plunges the spade into the earth and strips off his shirt. He wipes his face with it and then starts again.
I can't help but gape. Harry's body is toned and tanned to perfection. There's no perma-tanned, white-toothed naffness to him. His perfect pecs move with utter precision. His muscles cord as he works the spade. His back moves like it's an orchestra of muscles, conducted by the world’s finest.
He grins at me. 'You know you want to touch me.'
'I do. It's perverse, but fucking hell, Harry. It's like you're made of rock.'
He flexes his arm muscles. 'Come on. Feel em.'
'You're not going to heckle me with rude comments?'
'No, seriously come on. I want the potential TV Personality of the Year's opinion of my biceps.'
I run my hand down his arm—about fourteen times. I can't stop. 'Jeez. How much working out do you do?'
'Got my own gym, haven't I? I work out several hours a day. Part of who I am.'
I drop my hand back to my side. 'That's it. I'm having my own gym in my new house.'
'Well if you need a Personal Trainer, I know a great one.'
'Nice try.'
Harry laughs, 'No, actually I really do have a great PT. I can give you his name.'
As he talks about the fitness regime that keeps him buff, I realise it’s the first time I've seen a hint of the real Harry. We're on his turf, literally.
'Now I know you want to trail your hands down my rock hard thighs, but I'm going to have to say no.'
I pout. 'Spoilsport.'
We spend the next couple of hours in companionable conversation as he sporadically digs and I begin planting.
'Is loverboy going to the Awards with you?'
'I haven't asked him yet. I doubt it though, it's not his scene.'
'Will he be okay with me being there?'
I stop planting and look up at him. 'You're going?'
'I've been asked to hand out the prize for best Sports programme.'
'Ah.'
'Gary Lineker was busy.'
'I didn't mean it like that. I was just thinking it's a shame we can't go together as friends without people assuming stuff.'
'I've got myself a date actually.'
'Leggy blonde with big boobs?'
He smiles. 'Aye, something like that.'
'I'm meeting a friend when I'm there. So it's probably best if I attend alone.'
Harry rests his hands on the top of the spade. 'He should be there, you know. He should support you. This is quite an achievement, Ronnie. You're really making a name for yourself out there. I reckon that after the awards even more offers will flood in for you.'
'Do you think?'
'I do, lass, I really do.'
I re-tie my hair in its messy topknot. It's true it might lead to more TV work, so why don’t I feel happy about it?
I press the soil around the base of the final plant and give it a water. 'Is it okay if I have a shower before I go? I had no idea how muddy it still was.'
'Course. I'll show you how it works and get you some towels.'
There's nothing like a hot shower after a few hours toiling in the garden. I turn Harry's shower onto hard jets and feel them individually loosening my worked muscles. Muddy water begins to run clean. I fasten a large towel around my body and leave the room.
Harry is in front of his bed, posing while taking a selfie. 'I'm recording how dirty I got gardening.'
'You are so vain. Now get out. I need to get dressed.' I lift up a bag containing clean clothes.
'Thrown out of my own bedroom? I can categorically state that has never happened to me before.' He huffs before he leaves.
Friday 11 April 2014
'Why are you laughing at me? That's so bloody rude.' I start looking myself over, to see what's making Col hysterical.
'What are you wearing, Ronnie?'
'A suit. I'm going to see your place of work.'
'Yes, but you aren't going for a job there. Plus if you were, you're a little overdressed. It's smart casual there.'
'Come in, and I'll get changed.' I huff.
I strip off my Chanel suit, pearls, black tights and heels. I pull my hair out of its bun. Instead, I put on some Etro straight leg black trousers and a black Helmut Lang honeycomb-knit sweater. I sweep my hair into a side ponytail and slip on some silver metallic Tory Burch flats.
'Better?'
'Much. Come on, you look great.'
We arrive at a Tower building at Imperial Wharf. It has a white fronted facade and lots of glass windows. It looks like a giant ice cube.
Col pulls into a numbered parking space. 'These are my father's offices. I share his staff.'
'Why?'
'Well for one, I've known them for years. Two, I wouldn't be able to keep staff on myself with my ad-hoc approach to turning up.'
This makes itself clear when we arrive at the fifth floor and a tall woman with short grey hair approaches Col. 'You're still alive then?'
He gives her a hug and then turns to me. 'Patricia, this is Ronnie.'
She extends a hand, 'Pleased to meet you at last.'
'This is my secretary, Patricia.'
I shake her hand. 'Nice to make your acquaintance,' I do a small curtsy.
Col rolls his eyes at Patricia. 'Just ignore her, she's being weird this morning. I've come to show her around. Is my father in?'
'He's due in around eleven,' says Patricia. 'So about an hour or so. Can I get you both a drink?'
'Yes, please.' Col answers. 'My usual, and Ronnie will have an espresso.'
I head over to the window in the Reception area and look out over the wharf.
'You've got a thing for water. Here, Riverside, and also the main ingredient of your coffees.'
Col comes up alongside me and puts his arm around me. 'It looks that way, plus I like you all wet.'
We have our drinks and then Col shows me around the fifth floor where the main offices are.
'None of the staff have a fixed office, apart from my father. We all hot-desk.'
'Ah. So much for my plan to lay across your desk.'
'Not unless you like an audience of fellow hot-deskers. Actually, forget that,' He says, looking at me. 'You'd probably enjoy it.'
I smirk. 'So what if you have a meeting?'
'We have designated meeting rooms with audio-visual equipment for teleconferencing and suchlike.'
I yawn. I can't help it. I'm supposed to be showing an interest but it's so fucking boring. Here's a table, here's a computer.
'Sorry.' I move my hand from my mouth.
'Now do you see why I hardly ever come here? It does the same to me.'
'Really?'
'Really.'
'I'm fucking bored,' I tell him.
'And I thought your name was Ronnie,' says a man who I am hoping is not Thomas Colin Fernsby Snr., but of course, I'm shit out of luck.
'I am so terribly sorry, Sir.' I hang my head.
'Don't be daft. It's refreshing to see a touch of honesty around the place instead of the usual arse-lickers.'
'Dad,' says Col.
'Well it's true son. Ninety percent of the people in this building tell me what I want to hear. They daren't have an opinion of their own in case I sack them. Anyway,' he nods his head at me. 'Good to meet you Ronnie.'
I smile nervously.
'How's your business going?' he asks.
'I'm still training. I'm not in business yet, but it's looking—'
'Aren't you selling stuff for vaginas?'
'Ah. Em. No. I'm just the face for them. I give my earnings to charity.'
'Face?' Thomas falls about laughing. 'Ain't your face anyone's interested in.'
Col touches Thomas' arm. 'Dad. You're embarrassing her.'
'Give over son. Ronnie's got some guts about her. I've watched her on the TV. Met your mother a few times too, sweetheart. She's a doll. Anyway what business haven't you set up yet?'
'She's training to be a Garden Designer, remember?' says Col.
'Of course she is. I remember you telling me now. Well, if you become part of the family there are business rooms for you here. Great name for a gardening business that, hey? Fernsby's. Meant to be, I say. Meant to be. If you like it, you should put a ring on it eh, Col?'
Col turns puce.
'Father—'
I look Thomas firmly in the eyes. 'The only ring I'm interested in right now with Col is a cock ring.'
Thomas' mouth drops open. Then he guffaws with laughter.
'I think I'm in love. Do you like older men?'
Col relaxes as the banter continues between myself and his father. Soon it's Col and his Dad’s turn to chat about their businesses, so I follow them around. Listening to them both it becomes obvious to me that the main reason Col is still a businessman is because he absolutely adores his father. I learn that Thomas made his money in property and investments. Col only invested in property, prior to opening the coffee shop.
The Calendar Game (The Alpha Series Book 2) Page 10
