by Lily Morton
“Yes,” I gasp, pushing my face into his neck.
“Fuck,” he snarls. “I’m trying to do the right thing Nell. Humour me because it’s the first time in my life that I’ve ever wanted to do that.”
Letting out a long breath to try to let out the desire I feel, I pull away and smile at him. “Okay then Mr Hudson, if I can’t have my wicked way with you you’d better take me out and show me a good time.”
He painfully rearranges himself and then shaking his head he moves over to the window, opening it and letting in a cold draft of air, then he smiles back at me. “That’s better. The only alternative would be to stick my head in the ice bucket.”
“Which head?” I say smiling and he laughs.
“Fuck babe don’t say that. I’ll explode.”
“I’d like to see that,” I say slowly and he leans towards me. I sway forward closing my eyes but a sudden slap on my arse makes me gasp and open them quickly to find him smirking at me.
“Get dressed,” he says in one of his mercurial changes of mood.
“You’ve got to tell me where we’re going so I know what to wear.” I turn to my wardrobe and rifle through it.
“Nope, it’s a surprise. Just wear something warm and comfortable. We’re going to be outside and doing a lot of walking.” He’s smiling widely and I stop to look at him.
“Look at you,” I marvel. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”
“I’ve got a day off and I’m spending it with you,” he says simply and my heart flutters. He says things like this more and more but I know that I can’t get my hopes up because usually as soon as he says them he pulls away. Today however he doesn’t.
“What has got into you? A whole day out with no work! I’d have thought you’d have lined up a few hundred spread sheets to wank over,” I say cheekily, and then shriek as he swats my bum again. What has got into him today?
“Get dressed,” he orders and I scoot over to the bathroom to get ready but I make sure that I open the door and sling my nightie out so that I can laugh at his groan.
Half an hour later I’m ready. I’m dressed in my black, ripped skinny jeans which I’ve teamed with a white shirt and a tweed jacket that I found on a second hand clothing stall on Camden Market. I wind an oversized, golden brown, paisley scarf around my neck and bang my feet into my boots, and the outfit obviously meets his approval given the fact that his hand slides down to rest on my arse and stays there when we leave the room. We make our way down to the hotel foyer which is all bright and white enlivened only by the delft blue Oriental rug which covers the floor. Sid stops to sign a few autographs but he doesn’t let go of my hand, and his whole body language screams that he’s got somewhere else that he needs to be, and it isn’t long before we’re sliding into the back of a navy blue Audi SUV whose engine is running at the kerb.
I smile a surprised hello at Simon who is at the wheel. “I got Simon to drive today,” Sid explains as we fasten our seatbelts and the car moves smoothly off. “I didn’t want to waste time trawling around looking for parking spaces all day.” He gestures to a wicker basket resting between our seats. “The hotel packed us breakfast because I wanted to make an early start. Have a rummage through and see what you want. I asked for a latte for you.”
I smile at him and after rummaging through the basket with my stomach rumbling I settle on almond croissants still warm from the oven, and I serve Sid and myself, handing him his black coffee and letting out a contented sigh while I sip my milky coffee which is done to perfection.
We spend the next hour chatting and laughing about the tour so far and he offers some memories from previous tours which have me holding my side with laughter. Not to be outdone Simon relates humorous stories about his early days protecting the men, and before I know it we’ve left the motorway and we’re turning into a long driveway that leads to a beautiful, pale pink building that looks exactly like a Disney castle with its delicate lines and fluting turrets. We pull to a stop on the gravelled forecourt and Sid vaults out of the car walking quickly round to my side and pulling me out. “I’ll call you when we’re ready,” he mutters to Simon who smiles and motors smoothly away leaving us standing alone.
“Where are we?” I ask and then I gasp and inhale as the most incredible smell hits me. There’s no way to describe it other than that it’s a growing smell, comprised of a green, powerful undertone topped with the most incredible fragrance. I sniff greedily and Sid smiles, his teeth gleaming whitely in the early morning sunshine. “What is that heavenly smell?” I ask and he grabs my hand pulling me towards a wide, white path that runs off to our left. He moves me forward until I forcibly stop him, gaping at the sight in front of me. The path meanders ahead but it’s the carpet of tulips that lie everywhere as far as the eye can see that stops my breath. Every colour of the rainbow is represented and their scent lies heavy on the air so that every breath I take is perfumed.
“What is this?” I ask turning to him and disturbing what looks very much like a tender look on his face as he watches me. His eyes are soft.
“This is the Keukenhof Gardens. Also known as the Garden of Europe.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” I spin on my heels and inhale greedily.
“I know I don’t do romance but I wanted to give you flowers in a way that you’d never forget,” he says softly.
“You’ve done that.” I’m unbelievably touched that this hard faced, closed off man can be so unbearably sweet. “Thank you,” I whisper, and he leans forward and kisses my forehead closing his eyes as he does it and inhaling my hair. Then he straightens and moves away leaving me cold. I sigh because this is what he always does, but then I’m surprised again by him this morning.
“Let’s walk,” he says holding out his hand to me, and I smile and let him take mine and tug me along. We spend the next few hours wandering through the many gardens, along paths stippled with sunshine, and after weeks spent in the close confines of the bus and hotels this is exactly what I need. He keeps hold of my hand throughout the walk and I enjoy the warmth and connection with him. It’s a magical place and my eyes are assaulted in all directions by colours which are so bright they’re almost psychedelic.
My favourite garden has to be the herb garden which is so full of fragrant flowers that the air is heavy with perfume. It also has a fantastic view of the neighbouring tulip fields which lie flatly in multi-coloured stripes like the fizzy belt sweets that Sam and I used to eat when we were kids.
After we’ve seen enough Sid phones Simon and asks him to take us to Haarlem which turns out to be a picture postcard city resting on the banks of a wide river. Left alone again we wander down cobbled streets between tall gabled buildings. There are lots of art galleries and we wander from one to the other still holding hands, offering each other commentaries on what we see.
In one gallery there is a beautiful display of stained glass with modern designs painted on them in vivid swirls of colour. The sun shines brightly through them making the floor and whitewashed walls alive with colour. “Something like this would look beautiful in your house,” I offer shyly and he shoots me an arrested look.
“Where are you thinking of?”
I think hard, bringing the details of his house to mind. “You’ve got that big window in the hall. The sun shining through it would leave colours all over the white walls,” I offer hesitantly, but he nods enthusiastically.
“You’re right. That would look fantastic. Which one do you like?”
I consider them carefully, touched that he’s letting me have this moment with him. That house means a lot to him, and it matters to me that some small part of me will be in his home with him forever, long after I’ve left his life. “I like them all,” I say finally. “But how about commissioning something instead? Then you can have something that’s special to you.”
“That’s a great idea. I’m going to ask about it.” He leaves me alone to find someone to help, and I settle into a leather chair resting my t
ired feet gratefully and letting the moving colours have a hypnotic effect on me as I slip into a daydream about living in that house with him. After about twenty minutes I see him coming towards me smiling widely. “Did you speak to someone?” I ask, letting him pull me to my feet.
“I did,” he grins. “The artist happened to be here so I spoke to him. He’s asked about me, my hobbies and interests and he’s going to do some preliminary designs including some abstract patterns which I quite like the idea of, and let me pick what I want.”
“Hope you didn’t include some of the more risqué hobbies. I can’t quite see your favourite activity in a stained glass.”
He laughs. “I don’t know. At least masturbation in a stained glass would be original. However Nell, I don’t think there’s a window big enough to depict my cock.”
“Or your head,” I add wryly and he bursts out laughing throwing his head back. I bask in his happiness for a second until he straightens.
“I got you something,” he says almost shyly, holding his hand out. From one long finger dangles an expensive cream coloured paper bag with pink string handles.
“Sid, you didn’t have to buy me anything. Just being here today is enough.”
“You’ve enjoyed it then?” he asks, not meeting my eyes.
“It’s been amazing,” I insist and he smiles.
“Well pretty girls should always have mementos of good days,” he adds firmly, putting the bag in my hand. I open it warily, aware that he’s practically vibrating next to me. Nestled inside bright pink tissue paper is a box and I open it carefully and then gasp.
“Oh my God.” Inside is a delicate globe about the size of a large grapefruit. It’s made of clear glass and all over it are painted tulips in beautiful vivid colours and stripes.
“It’s a globe. You can hang it in front of your window and when the sun shines through it the colours will be all over your room. I got tulips to remind you of the gardens. Do you like it?”
I hold it up to the light and the colours reflect back onto my hand, spilling over the floor in front of us. I swallow tears, unbearably touched. “Do I like it Sid? It’s the most beautiful thing that I’ve ever seen.”
He smiles bashfully and watches as I carefully pack it away. “I wanted you to remember today.”
“I’ll always remember it. I’ll remember everything,” I say almost too fiercely and for a second we’re silent, and then he smiles almost sadly and then holds out his hand to me.
“Are you hungry?” I nod slightly embarrassed by my outburst which I think revealed more than I hoped but he displays no sign of anything. “Come on then, let’s get something to eat.”
We wander along and he treats me to hot milky coffee and poffertjies which are tiny puffed pancakes served warm with melting butter and powdered sugar sprinkled over the top. We eat them sitting by the river with our legs dangling over the edge, watching the boats skipping along on the water, their sails whipping in the breeze, and trying to ignore the group of giggling girls who are lurking nearby.
Throughout the day I know that he’s been recognised because it’s well-known that Beggar’s Choice are in town, and he’s a very attractive, famous man. However, because he has the beanie pulled down over his distinctive hair and he’s put on a pair of black framed reading glasses which suit him to a ridiculous level, it’s only really been the hard-core fans that have recognised him so far, and they’ve been very polite on the whole. A few young girls asking for autographs earlier hung over him trying to edge me out, but throughout it all he kept a firm hold on me, slinging his arm around me and not removing it.
“Do you mind it?” I ask him, looking at the horde of girls nearby whose giggling and hair flicking make me want to laugh.
“What - the attention?” He sits back and stretches out his long legs. I nod and he throws his arm over my shoulder winding his fingers in my hair. “At first it was amazing when we were younger. I was so fucking excited the first time someone asked for my autograph that Charlie swore I came in my pants.” I laugh and he smiles. “I didn’t really.” He ponders. “I love the fans and you can tell the real ones and I never, ever mind stopping to talk to them or sign stuff because they’re respectful both to me and who I’m with. The paps and all those women just looking to sell me out for the price of a story. That got old years ago.”
I run my hand down his hard thigh feeling the power of his muscles and how he shudders slightly. “I won’t do that to you,” I whisper and it sounds like a vow.
He turns and presses his lips against my temple hard. “I know,” he says calmly.
I finish the last of my pancakes and smile at him. “Best lunch ever.”
“I’ve bought women fucking caviar and diamonds,” he says absentmindedly, pulling me to my feet and staring out over the water. “But poffertjies and coffee in a paper cup please you.”
I stiffen because the thought of him and other women is unbearably painful. I hate the thought that one day he might say to the next one. Why I remember one girl and a bag of pancakes. Now what was her name? Lost in these thoughts I became aware of him looking at me. “What?” I ask, managing a wobbly smile.
“You have a crumb on your lip,” he says gesturing, and then before I can brush it off he leans forward slowly giving me the chance to stop him but I don’t, and his lips meet mine. At first he’s heartbreakingly gentle, moving his full lips which are so soft gently over my lips almost as if he’s memorizing the shape, and I stay still feeling the warmth of the sun hitting my face and the breeze moving my hair. Then his tongue comes out and he traces my lip removing the crumb and tasting me leisurely. I part my lips on a sigh and he slides his tongue in and I taste the sweetness of the sugar and his own minty taste. I send my own tongue out to tangle with his and then the kiss changes texture.
He groans and lifting his hands he grabs the back of my head and directs where he wants my mouth to go, all the while entwining our tongues. I moan into his open mouth and he pauses for a second his breath falling on my face, and my eyes open to see him looking at me, his eyes impossibly blue in the sunlight. Then he closes his eyes, leans forward and slants his mouth over mine and this time he takes. He pulls me close demandingly so that my breasts rest against his firm chest and the kiss goes wild with both of us struggling to get even closer. I don’t know what we would have done because we are both lost at this point but a wolf whistle recalls us to our surroundings. Opening my eyes reluctantly I see a man on a bike shoot past shouting something to Sid who smiles crookedly.
“What did he say?” I ask huskily, and he turns back to me his eyes dilating as he looks at my lips which I know are swollen.
“He says get a room,” he relates, his voice hoarse. I raise my eyebrows at him and he inhales sharply. “Soon,” he says throatily. “I can’t hold back much longer.”
I turn to him biting him on the neck and then sucking gently, relishing the feeling of his groan through my lips, and hearing the mutters from the girls nearby. “Don’t,” I say in a low voice and he pulls me close and we stand there for a long minute, both of us knowing that we’re standing on the edge of something and ready to jump in.
Finally he stirs. “Come on. We’re going to meet the others for dinner before you mark that skin of yours forever.”
“Don’t you approve?”
He looks at me astonished. “Babe I’ve got tattoos all over me so I obviously like them. It’s just the thought of you showing bare skin at some other man. Drives me mad.”
“Sid, are you a jealous person?” I ask, astonished.
“I never used to be.” He looks slightly worried. “But I definitely am now. I don’t know why.” His words linger in the air all the way back to the hotel, and I try frantically not to let myself hope too much.
By the time we get back to the hotel we’re just in time to get changed before we meet the others at the restaurant. He leaves me at my door with what was intended to be a quick kiss but turns into a lingering make out session, which
is only stopped by Bram walking past and offering to film us for the local news.
I shower and blow dry my hair into its overlong wavy bob, and then deliberate over what to wear. I finally decide on a little sleeveless dress that I got from a vintage clothing store on the King’s Road. It’s very 50’s looking, made of a heavy black material with tan coloured splatters of colour all over the top and a tulip shaped skirt which ends mid-thigh. I team it with a close fitting black cardigan and because I’m intending to get a tattoo I slip on some opaque hold ups and my black ballet flats. I’m examining the dress and whether the hem is too high for the hold ups when there’s a knock on the door and my mind is made up by Sid’s expression when he sees me. His eyes darken and he makes a sudden lunge at me which I deflect laughing. “Come on feed me Hudson, I’m starving. Then take me to get myself permanently marked.” Grumbling and rearranging himself he grabs my hand and whirls me out of the room.
The restaurant that they’ve chosen is in a cellar with stone steps down and brick walls with low ceilings. The lighting is low and mainly made up of hundreds of candles and in the background I can hear Grace Jones singing ‘La Vie en Rose’. The others are all waiting and I slip into the chair next to Mabe while Sid slides in next to me, accepting some low voiced piss taking from Bram about attempting to mount women in hotel corridors to which he responds by lifting his middle finger and whisking my coat away from me to give to the hovering waiter.
We’re attracting a lot of glances already but I don’t know whether it’s because we’re a big group that’s quite loud, or because they’ve been recognised, but I see several women walk past a few times so I think it’s the latter. However, they leave us alone and soon we’re sipping drinks and waiting for our food. “What have you done today,” Mabe asks, putting her drink down and running her fingers over Charlie’s hand which is seemingly stapled to her thigh while he talks to Seth.
“We went all over the place. Sid took me to the Keukenhof Gardens this morning and then into Haarlem for lunch.”
