by Paige Toon
Peering through the peep-hole, I swear my heart stops momentarily when I see Johnny standing there.
‘Quick! Open up!’ he urges, behind the closed door.
I do as he says. It’s only when I close the door behind him that he jolts in shock and stares at me.
‘Meg?’ His tone is guarded, almost as if he thinks he’s seeing things.
‘Hi, Johnny.’ I pray my voice won’t shake.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks.
‘I live here.’
‘You live here?’ he asks, in astonishment. ‘What, with Christian?’
‘Yeah.’ I laugh at the look on his face. ‘Not like that, you moron. As friends.’
‘Oh.’ The relief on his face is palpable. Which is nice.
‘Christian’s not here,’ I say. ‘He’s up in Manchester on an assignment.’
‘Oh, right. Can I?’ He motions towards the kitchen.
‘Sure, of course.’ I lead the way. ‘Do you want a tea or coffee?’
‘What else have you got?’
I look at him, patiently. ‘What are you after? Booze cabinet’s over there.’ I point. I’m sure Christian won’t mind if Johnny helps himself. I get out a glass and put a couple of chunks of ice in it. I know Johnny will opt for the whisky, and this is the way he likes it best. I hand him the glass so he can pour the caramel-coloured liquid into it himself.
‘Cheers, Nutmeg,’ he says, casually. I jump at the sound of my nickname and he looks up at me. It just rolled off the tip of his tongue, but I can see now that even he found it weird.
He waits in the corner of the kitchen while I make a cup of tea. I’m nervous, but I’m trying not to show it. I don’t know what to say.
‘I thought I was being tailed.’ He speaks eventually, explaining why he turned up at the door in a panic.
‘What, by the press?’
‘Paps, yeah.’
‘What are you doing in the UK?’ I ask.
‘Dad’s wedding.’
‘So soon?’
‘Mmm.’
‘When is it?’ I lead the way to the sofas and mute the sound on the TV.
‘Actually, I might go outside for a cigarette,’ he says. ‘Come chat to me?’
It’s cold outside, so I grab my coat and pull my gloves out of my pockets, sliding them on. We sit on the bench at the end of the garden and Johnny lights up. To my surprise, he offers me his cigarette packet.
‘You don’t smoke, do you?’ he asks.
‘No,’ I say, waving them away. How strange.
He pushes them back into his pocket and takes a long drag, staring back at the house. I pull my knees up in front of me and wrap my arms around them, trying to keep warm.
‘So when is your dad’s wedding?’ I ask again.
‘This weekend just gone.’
‘Was it okay?’
‘Bit strange,’ he admits.
‘In what way?’
‘Ah, just…’ He glances at me, those green eyes sending a shockwave through my system. ‘Felt a bit on show.’ He flicks his ash onto the muddy garden bed.
‘Was it a big wedding?’
He laughs, hollowly, before answering. ‘Yes. Turns out Shelley–my dad’s woman–has a lot of friends…’ The way he says ‘friends’ implies he means anything but.
‘All there to see you, hey?’
‘Mmm,’ he answers, wryly.
He glances at me again. My arms are still wrapped around my knees. ‘You cold?’
I nod. He pats the bench space next to him, so I edge a bit closer. He puts his whisky in his other hand, along with his cigarette, and puts his now-free arm around my shoulder. He rubs my arm with his hand, vigorously.
‘Brr, Nutmeg, it is a bit cold, isn’t it?’
My stomach is tying itself up into knots and I’m anything but comfortable. I try to steel myself. ‘Shall we go inside?’ I ask, glancing at him, but we’re so close I have to look away again.
‘Sure,’ he says, removing his arm and stubbing his fag out on the ground.
Calm down, Meg, calm down, I tell myself as I lead the way back indoors. I look up to see Johnny watching my face in the reflection of the French doors and am reminded of the time in LA when I first met him. I reach for the handle to open the door.
We take off our shoes because they’re muddy and then Johnny takes a detour via the booze cabinet.
‘Are you still working at that members’ club?’ he asks, joining me on the sofa in the living room.
‘Yep,’ I reply.
‘Didn’t take Isla up on her offer of a job, then?’ He raises one eyebrow at me.
‘No.’ I look away at the TV. It still has the sound turned down, but I can see they’re doing a feature on weddings.
‘Huh. That looks a bit like Vanessa’s dress,’ I comment out loud.
‘Vanessa?’
‘Anton’s fiancée. Well, wife now.’
‘Anton? Oh! Christian’s brother. Fuck!’ he exclaims. ‘I forgot to send a card.’
‘You can still send one now,’ I suggest.
‘Yeah, I suppose I could. Don’t have his address, though.’
‘Send it to his parents’ place. Do you have that one?’
‘Somewhere, yeah.’
‘Want me to get it for you?’
‘Could you?’ He smiles, sheepishly.
I go upstairs to the office, returning a minute later with the address written down on a piece of paper.
‘Thanks,’ he says, looking down at it for a moment.
‘Have you got a new PA?’ I ask, convinced he’s thinking about how I used to do this sort of thing for him all the time.
‘No.’ He shakes his head.
Ha!
‘When do you think Christian will be back?’ he asks.
I look at my watch. ‘I don’t know. I think he said he was catching the seven o’clock train so could be another hour or two yet.’
He gets to his feet and folds the piece of paper up, stuffing it into his back pocket. ‘I should probably head off, then,’ he says, retrieving his shoes from inside the French doors.
I get up, too, and walk him towards the door. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘Soho Hotel.’
‘Just around the corner from where I work,’ I say in surprise.
‘I know.’
We look at each other for a moment.
‘Want me to call a car for you?’ I ask, feeling awkward.
He chuckles. ‘No, it’s alright, N—Meg. I’ll catch a cab out on the main road.’ He opens the door and looks out.
‘All clear?’ I ask.
‘I think so. See ya, then.’
‘Bye.’
I watch as he makes his way up the narrow steps from Christian’s private entrance to the street above. He looks left and right and then glances down at me and raises his hand in a half-wave, before stepping out of sight. I close the door, feeling empty inside.
Chapter 34
‘Hey!’ Christian beams at me when he walks into the kitchen with his overnight bag. ‘Did ya miss me?’
‘Nah,’ I tease.
Actually, I did.
‘How was your assignment?’
‘Good. Much easier than I thought it was going to be.’
He was writing something about the music scene in Manchester. God knows what. It all goes right over my head.
‘Have you been outside?’ he asks in surprise, spying my shoes by the door.
‘Yeah.’ I try to sound casual. ‘Johnny was here.’
‘Johnny?’ He looks taken aback.
‘He came to see you.’ I explain how he thought he was being followed. ‘Wanted a fag so went into the garden.’
‘Decent of him,’ Christian says, and I’m not sure if I detect sarcasm. ‘What did he want?’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply.
He stares at me. ‘You okay?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ I don’t mean to sound defensive.
He wanders
through to the living room.
‘Been at my whisky too, has he?’
Johnny’s empty glass is still on the coffee table. I’ve been reluctant to wash it up since he left.
‘I hope that’s okay.’
‘It’s fine.’ He sighs and slumps down onto the sofa. ‘Chuck us the phone, will you? I’d better give him a bell.’
I try to seem casual as I hand over the phone and wander back into the kitchen, but I really want to be around for this conversation. After a few minutes of listening without hearing Christian’s voice, I go back through to the living room.
‘Not there?’ I indicate the phone.
‘Going straight through to voicemail,’ he confirms.
‘Oh, right. I might go and check my emails. Is that okay? You’re not wanting to do any writing tonight, are you?’
‘No, it’s fine. Go for it.’
I climb the stairs and head into the office. My emails contain nothing of interest, and after a few minutes of sitting there, staring into space and thinking of Johnny, it occurs to me I could call Bess and tell her about seeing him again. I pick up the phone and instantly hear Johnny’s voice down the line.
‘Why didn’t you tell me she was living with you?’
‘I didn’t think you’d care,’ Christian replies.
‘Well, I do,’ says Johnny.
I hold my breath, listening.
‘In what way?’ Christian’s tone is suspicious.
‘You fancy her, don’t you?’ Johnny says. ‘I mean, the way you’ve gone on about her in the past…And now this. Getting her to move in with you. Are you two shagging each other or something?’
‘Piss off.’ Now Christian sounds annoyed.
The fax machine behind me starts to whir, noisily. Argh!
‘What’s that?’ I hear Johnny ask.
‘I don’t know,’ Christian responds.
I gently press the red button and put the phone back down in its cradle, more confused than ever.
Later that night, after Christian has gone to bed, I finally speak to Bess.
‘Did Christian say anything to you about it?’ she asks.
‘No. And I didn’t want to ask because that would have given away my eavesdropping.’
‘Do you think he does fancy you?’
‘I don’t know,’ I reply.
‘Do you fancy him?’
‘No. I don’t think so. I mean, sometimes I look at him and think he’s really attractive, and I wonder why I don’t fancy him…’ I try to explain.
‘Well, that’s obvious,’ she says. ‘Johnny.’
I have to laugh.
‘What?’ she asks.
‘Can you believe I, of all people, have fallen for Johnny Jefferson?’
She giggles. ‘It is pretty funny. Remember how I used to tease you all the time? You denied it and denied it, and all the time you did want to get into his pants!’
‘Oi!’ I laugh.
‘And what about that email you sent me from LA?’ she suddenly screeches. ‘You had been shagging him!’
‘I know,’ I answer, shamefaced. ‘I pressed Send by mistake.’
‘I still can’t believe you’ve gone to bed with Johnny Jefferson,’ she says in wonder. ‘It really sucks that you can’t tell people about it.’
‘I wouldn’t want to, even if I could.’
‘Why, because that would cheapen it?’ She giggles.
‘Yeah, actually. It would.’ I don’t like her thinking this is some kind of joke. It’s not. This is my heart we’re talking about.
‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘It just seems so surreal.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
I wait on tenterhooks for Christian to mention Johnny during the next couple of days, but he says nothing. I start reading the tabloids again, surfing the internet…All in the hope of catching some news about him. He’s consuming me again. Every part of me. And I don’t like it. I feel like I have to free myself of him all over again.
As the days become weeks, I catch the odd snippet about Johnny in the press. He’s back in LA, back to his old ways, drinking in bars, pulling groupies. It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, and eventually I find I can go whole days with barely a thought about him.
One afternoon, in early May, Christian comes home after a meeting with his publisher.
‘I bumped into Clare today,’ he says, casually putting one foot up on his opposite knee. We’re sitting in the garden.
‘Did you?’
‘Yep. It was fine.’ He grins at me. ‘Didn’t feel a thing.’
‘That’s brilliant,’ I tell him. ‘Really good. Is she still with that Boris bloke?’
He shrugs. ‘Dunno. Didn’t ask.’
‘Really? Now that’s impressive.’
‘I thought so,’ he says, flippantly. ‘She asked about you, though.’
‘Did she?’ My eyes open wide. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said we were living together.’
I start to giggle.
‘Not like that,’ he chides. ‘I told her you were just my flatmate.’
‘Oh, right,’ I say, feeling my face heat up.
‘Told her you were too hung up on Johnny Jefferson to give any other lads a look-in.’
‘You didn’t!’ I’m horrified.
‘No, not really.’ He grins.
I slap him on his thigh.
‘You are, though, you know.’ He glances at me.
‘What, too hung up on Johnny?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Do you think I’m going to end up sad and alone?’ I joke.
‘Yeah.’ He laughs, hollowly. ‘You probably will.’
We both fall silent. After a while, I sigh and get up.
‘Meg…’
He grabs my hand and I look back at him, startled.
‘What?’
He gently pulls me back down to sit beside him. I look at him, nervously.
‘What?’ I ask again.
He lets go of me and runs his hands through his dark, indie-boy hair. ‘Forget it,’ he says, looking down at the bright yellow tulips in the flower bed. He sounds frustrated.
‘Tell me,’ I say.
He looks back at me suddenly, intensely, and I’m surprised to feel my heart flip.
‘I care about you,’ he says.
‘I care about you, too,’ I reply, cagily.
‘No. I care about you. Too much.’ His dark-brown eyes still meet mine, and I want to look away, but find that I can’t.
‘Meg…’
He runs his fingertips down the curve of my waist. When I don’t stop him, he leans in closer. I don’t pull away, but I don’t move in towards him, either. He kisses me, slow and gentle.
He tastes nice…Sweet…I like him so much, I want to fancy him the way I fancy Johnny.
Johnny. You know it will never work. You have to move on.
I kiss Christian back, harder, desperate to feel the passion I felt with his friend.
Christian is perfect for me. He’s lovely, he’s intelligent, he’s mature, he wouldn’t mess me around. I like him so much.
But do you love him?
No.
Do you love Johnny?
Don’t think about that now.
‘I really want to make love to you,’ Christian says. His breathing has quickened.
‘Okay.’ I nod.
The earth doesn’t move, but it’s loving, it’s tender, there’s no feeling of dread afterwards.
He holds me in his arms and strokes my hair, and I try so hard not to think about the man who brought us together.
‘Are you alright?’ he asks.
I look up at him and smile. ‘Yeah. That was nice.’
‘Just “nice”?’
‘Really nice,’ I say. ‘Want to do it again?’
He chuckles. ‘Why not?’
Chapter 35
‘I’ll bring you back some Pebbles,’ Christian promises, giving me a kiss on the lips.
It
’s eight o’clock in the morning. He’s flying to LA tonight and I’m just leaving for work. We won’t catch each other this evening.
‘Say hi to Johnny for me,’ I call over my shoulder, then stop and turn around. ‘Actually, don’t,’ I decide.
‘Really?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’
He looks relieved. ‘See you next week,’ he says.
He’s going to LA to meet with Johnny about his book. Johnny has final copy approval, so this will be his last chance to read over the finished product and make any amendments before publication.
Bess comes round that night to keep me company and watch a chick-flick.
‘How’s it all going?’ she asks.
‘Really good,’ I say.
‘So you’re definitely attracted to him now, then?’
‘Yes.’ I laugh. ‘It would be a bit weird me sleeping in his room every night if I wasn’t.’
It’s been a month since Christian and I first slept together. And it is going well. I do really like him.
‘I’m happy for you,’ Bess says. ‘He’s a nice guy. What does his mum think?’ she asks. I filled her in about the wedding debacle back when it happened.
‘He hasn’t told her yet,’ I say. ‘Too soon.’
‘Fair enough.’ She grabs a bowl of popcorn from the coffee table and starts to chow down on it. ‘So,’ she says offhandedly, ‘are you over Johnny, then?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I think I am.’
‘Good. What about him being done for drink-driving, hey?’
‘What?’ I bolt upright.
‘Oh, you don’t know?’
‘No! What happened?’
‘Last night. He was on his motorbike. There are pics of him being pulled over in today’s papers.’
‘I haven’t read them. Bloody hell. Is he in jail?’
‘He’s out on bail, apparently.’
‘God. What an idiot.’
‘I’ll say. Shall we watch this movie, then?’
‘Sure,’ I reply, but my mind is elsewhere.
Christian calls me from LA to touch base the next day. I ask him about the drink-driving incident.
