by Shari Low
As soon as she heard the water turn on she stuffed the note back into her bag and slid it back under her side of the bed. She’d worry about it tomorrow. In fact she wouldn’t. It was ridiculous that she was risking spoiling a whole holiday because Cameron was having some kind of confused, mid-life crisis. Time to draw a line under this and refuse to give it a second thought for the rest of the trip.
Resolution made, she pressed play on the iPod on the bedside table and slipped further down into the bed as the sound of Adele’s 21 filled the room. She loved this album. It always made her mellow out. The strings of the guitar plucked out the introduction to ‘Don’t You Remember’ and she immediately felt her stress levels slide down a notch.
By the time Drew climbed into bed she was close to being relaxed for the first time in days. The heat of his body warmed her, as he raised himself up on one elbow and reached over to stroke her face.
‘Feels like ages since we were together and neither of us needed to get up at the crack of dawn.’
His tenderness made her blurt out the question that had been on her mind for months.
‘Drew, are we OK?’
‘What do you mean?’ he looked genuinely puzzled. Surely that was a good thing.
‘It’s just that…’ How to put this. ‘We seem to have slipped into a bit of a rut where there’s no time for each other anymore.’ There. No accusatory tone. Making a legitimate point without focussing on the fact that it was only him who had no time for her.
He thought for a moment before slowly nodding. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry, honey. Work has been really tough lately and sometimes, I know, I forget when to switch off and call it a day. And I always think of you as being so independent and just getting on with your life…’
‘But sometimes it would be nice to spend that life with my husband.’ She hated the way that sounded, like she was rebuking him or taking a fast train to Needy Central. She wasn’t. She was just opening a discussion. She watched his face for a flicker of irritation but didn’t see one. More relief.
‘You’re right and I’m sorry. Anyway, isn’t Cameron my stunt double for you these days?’
Of course it was a joke, but she suffered such a knee-jerk reaction that he came close to spending the rest of the trip with blue balls. She resorted to skipping right past the moment of truth. ‘Cameron’s services only extend so far,’ she replied when she’d recovered enough to speak, hoping the cheeky grin covered up the panic.
It seemed to work. ‘Sounds like I’ve got some making up to you to do,’ he teased.
He leaned down and kissed her, softly at first then a little more insistent, his hand now gently stroking a line down the side of her face, across her neck, to her shoulder, where he peeled down the shoestring strap of her vest. He continued to undress her, his lips never leaving hers, his movements slow and tender. For the first time in many weeks, she felt connected to him, felt the emotion of their relationship take over and block out everything else.
It was only later, as his breath deepened into soft snores, that she realized that from the moment he kissed her until he slipped into sleep, he hadn’t used her name even once.
6.
Wake Up In Palma
Tess
It was only 7 a.m. and already the sun was breaking through the morning hue and promising a beautiful day as Tess stood at the railing on her balcony, watching as they manoeuvred into dock at Palma de Mallorca. Just as the ship dropped anchor, Drew sauntered out behind her, carrying two coffees from the table that room service had pushed into the room at the requested time of six forty-five. It was an obscenely early rise for a holiday, but she’d been keen to see Palma from the ocean. And after the wonderful end to the night, she wanted to get the day started and make the most of every minute of their time together.
He kissed her briefly as he handed over a large mug. ‘Morning, honey.’
‘Good morning. And thank you. I could get used to this.’ She took the coffee from his hand and gestured to the view in front of them. ‘Not exactly the view I’d been expecting. I was hoping for a glorious, Mediterranean bay.’
‘What’s wrong with container ships and the smell of fuel?’ he asked with a smile.
‘You’re right. It’s completely unreasonable of me to be so demanding.’
When she’d first peeked out and seen where they were mooring she’d checked the Daily Vista, the two-page magazine that Colita had left on the desk last night, and realized that they were in an industrial dock a few miles from the city centre. Apparently, it was only about ten euros to get to the more salubrious parts of Palma. ‘Have you been here before?’ she asked him.
Curious that they’d been married for five years and she had very little idea as to what countries her husband had visited in his life. That’s what long working hours and a twenty-one-year age difference did.
‘A couple of times. Not since the nineties, though. What about you?’ Drew asked her.
She nodded. ‘Once. On a school trip when I was fifteen. I snogged Gary Burton on the steps of the cathedral. I may be banned from the city, for all I know.’
When he didn’t reply, she turned around to see that he’d already sat down at the balcony table and opened his laptop. She bit her bottom lip, fighting an urge to… she wasn’t sure what. Cry? Rage? Yep, rage. Rage was good. She accepted that at home he was a busy man who had to be on top of everything from world events to local news, but she wasn’t prepared to play second fiddle to the rest of the world today, or any day on the first proper holiday they’d had since their honeymoon. Hadn’t they agreed he wouldn’t work onboard? That included catching up with news and browsing global affairs.
Rather than launch the laptop into the Port of Palma, she decided to go for the light-hearted and low pressure route. Maybe he was just out of the habit of relaxing. Perhaps he just needed a gentle reminder. She moved round behind him, snaked her arms around his shoulders and leant in to nuzzle his neck. Was it her imagination or did he just flinch?
‘Drew, it’s the first day of our holiday. Put the laptop down and back away slowly,’ she said, injecting as much humour into her voice as she could muster. ‘Come on, there are much better things to be looking at.’
She moved around in front of him and sat on his knees, then leant in for a proper kiss. After an initial split second when she suspected he tried to peer around her to see what was on the screen, he relented to her kiss, sliding his hands up the front of her vest and cupping her breasts. Ah, this was more like it. How long had it been since they had sex in the morning? She was going to make this happen. In fact, she was going to take charge of the whole day. It was time for a new, assertive Tess to emerge from the lip-chewing doormat that she’d somehow become. And Cameron would be hearing about it, too. As soon as she got back she was going to sit down with him, sort it out, make her position clear, and then they’d put all this nonsense behind them. She suddenly experienced a surge of determination of a level she didn’t know she possessed. Maybe she’d inhaled a dangerous amount of those diesel fumes.
‘So, I was just thinking. Since we’ve both been to Palma, we could perhaps amuse ourselves here in the cabin for a while, then head into the city for lunch and a wander around the cathedral. I might even relive my youth and snog you on the steps, too.’
‘Really?’ he murmured, fully concentrating on her now. He’d slipped her vest upwards and was zeroing in for lip-to-nipple contact when…
Brrrrrrrrrrrr.
Tess jumped. What the hell was that?
Drew pushed her back, swept his head around her and went to press a button on his laptop. ‘Erm, you might want to put your top back on because this is a Skype call. There’s a video option.’
Don’t do this. Don’t. Didn’t he realize their relationship was much more important than taking a call? This was a snapshot of their lives together and she definitely didn’t like the way the picture was developing. Anxiety got a hold of her stomach and began to squeeze, and suddenly she w
anted to know: what was more important, her or the call?
‘Don’t take the call. Ignore it.’
He looked at her pleadingly. ‘Tess, I can’t. It must be important. Everyone is under strict instructions only to call me if it’s a matter of life or death.’
So now she knew. There was no competing with this. With a sinking heart, she pulled her vest back on and disentangled herself from him. She was barely decent when he pressed the button to take the call.
Mona’s face immediately filled the screen. Tess seethed. Not only did she have to put up with the family party from Weirdsville on the ship, but now one of his ex-wives had actually found a way to get into their stateroom.
‘Good morning, Drew, morning Tess,” Mona chirped. There was a hint of smugness there that left Tess in no doubt that she was loving the fact that she could interrupt them whenever she pleased.
Tess moved out of view of the camera and answered with a V sign. Highly immature and very out of character, but it did make her feel better.
‘Tess, did you just… no, must have been a trick of the light.’ Mona said.
Oops. Obviously wasn’t out of view of the camera after all. She ducked back into full shot and gave Mona a big cheesy grin and a wave. ‘Morning, Mona, so lovely to see you there,’ she said, in a ridiculously over-the-top sing-song that countered the small yet satisfying act of defiance.
Fuming, she picked up her coffee cup and headed back inside, had a quick shower, then wrapped a towel around her and padded back into the bedroom area. Through the windows, she could see that Drew was still hunched over his laptop, deep in conversation. Urgh. It was bad enough that he was working, without the added irritation of his smug ex-wife. She was never going to survive ten days of this.
Sliding open the wardrobe doors, she realized that she didn’t have a clue what to put on because she didn’t know what they were doing today. Wasn’t this the story of her bloody life these days? Why was she always waiting on Drew, unable to even choose what to wear until he deigned to fill her in on his plans?
Bugger it, wasn’t going to sit around waiting for him. She pulled out a pair of cropped white jeans and a pale green jersey batwing top, then threw a few silver chains around her neck and slipped on a pair of silver flip-flops to give the look a boho edge.
Right. Ten more seconds and she was going out there and she was going to slam that bloody laptop shut. She was!
Nine.
Eight.
Her pulse began to quicken.
Seven.
Six.
She yelped as her teeth dug into her bottom lip.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Take-off was two seconds away when a noise at the door made her jump. Three apologetic knocks.
If that was Mona, Tess wouldn’t be responsible for her actions.
Full of pent-up fury, she swung the door open, and was rapidly deflated when Colita, Brazil gave her a sunny smile. ‘Good morning Mrs Gold, I have an email for you. It came in to the business centre this morning.’
Tess quickly peered over her shoulder and saw to her relief that Drew was still otherwise engaged.
‘Thank you, Colita.’ A thought struck her. ‘Oh, and Colita, if there are any more of these notes could you just keep them for me and I’ll come check in with you when I’m free?’
Colita, Brazil beamed as she nodded gracefully. ‘Of course, Mrs Gold. Have a good day.’
The door was barely shut when Tess dived into the bathroom and, with trembling hands, opened the letter. Please make it be from her mum. Or her boss. Or a long-lost relative. Anyone but…
Tess, I’m sorry to do this but I had to write again in case you thought I’d sent yesterday’s note when I was confused. Or pished. I hope that you’ve had time to think about what I said. Meet me when you dock in Monaco. I’ll be in the square at noon. Cx
Leaning forward, she pressed her head against the cool of the tiles in the hope that it would counteract her racing pulse and the beads of sweat that were popping out all over her. What was he thinking? And more to the point, what was she thinking? She had absolutely no idea how to handle this.
Eventually, when she felt her shaking legs could take her weight, she stood up and shoved the letter down the front of her trousers, in the hope of concealing it until she could secretly shred it. After Drew’s performance this morning, she didn’t think it was at risk of discovery.
Opening the bathroom door, she almost yelped when she saw her husband standing right outside it.
‘Are you OK?’ he looked so genuinely concerned it triggered another wave of guilt.
‘I’m fine. Great,’ she blustered.
‘Honey…’ Term of endearment – more guilt. This was torture. Right, time to get over herself, stop being furious, and revert to plan A – make her marriage better. What they needed was to get out of here, go into town, have a long, leisurely romantic lunch and then come back and finish what they’d started this morning. Yes, that’s exactly what they needed. Time. Together.
Drew was still talking. ‘Listen, I’m really sorry and please don’t freak out…’ This didn’t sound like it was going to concur with her plan in any way whatsoever.
‘But I have to work today. Big story. Huge. And the paper is right at the front of it, so I have to be involved. I’ll make it up to you, I promise, I swear. Love you.’ He kissed her on the cheek – the cheek again! – and then turned and headed back to his laptop.
Stunned, it was all Tess could do to pick up her bag and head for the door. Drew was so engrossed in his bloody work that he didn’t even notice that her knickers rustled as she walked.
Mona
The next time Mona happened upon Dweezil McClinchy, the Bermudan star striker whose position in the Scotland team was granted thanks to a merchant seaman grandad from Dundee, she made a promise to herself to buy him a drink. Or ten. She might even let him lick them from her naked body.
Oooh, that thought just gave her a tremor. Dweezil was six-foot-two-inches of physical perfection… but she couldn’t see herself calling out that name in a moment of orgasmic ecstasy. His parents must have seriously disliked him. However, right at this moment, Mona loved him. They’d broken the story last week of Dweezil’s affair with his teammate’s wife, and a well-placed hack had then discovered that he was also shagging his wife’s sister. And now, this morning, they’d been handed a tip that he was also having it off with – she could hardly believe this – the wife of their local Member of Parliament.
Colin Trenchant, the Right Honourable Member for the Greater Glasgow area, had absolutely no idea that there were photographs in existence of his wife Cindy sucking the face off Dweezil in a city centre nightclub, then heading to a budget hotel. Not even a Hilton or a Hyatt!
Mona felt an uncharacteristic giggle take hold. This was bloody brilliant. No other newspaper even had wind of this one yet. It was one of their in-house photographers who had been in the right place at the right time and taken the pictures of them entering together, groping each other in the lobby, then leaving the next morning. This story was going to be big. Huge. The government spin machine would go into supersonic kill mode and all the other nationals would jump on it, so they had to be meticulously careful how they handled it.
Mona had been out of hard news for ten years, but it still gave her a rush like nothing else. The timing couldn’t be better. As self-appointed liaison for Drew, it was the perfect opportunity to spend time with him and step back into the delectable rush of a breaking scandal.
She dressed carefully, a white scoop-neck T-shirt, charcoal Capri trousers and black patent leather sling-back wedges, then checked her reflection. Almost there. Large pearl stud earrings finished the look to perfection.
Piers wandered out of the shower with a towel around his waist. He’d had a six-pack when she met him, courtesy of a Japanese martial arts master he had on the payroll. Master Yen had long ago departed back to his native country and now Piers ha
d a rotund stomach, courtesy of too many steak dinners and red wines. There was no denying that he was still attractive, but he was… she struggled to find a definitive answer. She got it! He was too old for her now. That was it. Sure, he was only a couple of years older than Drew, but somehow he’d slipped into late middle age. The lack of exercise. The affair with the secretary. The boring stories. He didn’t have a single thing to say that interested her any more. Drew, on the other hand, still had plenty to say that she wanted to hear.
But first, there was some groundwork to lay. She filled Piers in on the story and the need for her to work with Drew on it. ‘Seriously? You’re seriously going to work today? Who gives a flying fuck if some football player is porking an MP’s wife?’
‘It’s a huge story and of course people care. We’re a shallow, materialistic, gossiping society that is addicted to the modern-day cult of fame. It’s what makes us special,’ she added, with a supercilious grin. Time to play the trump card. ‘Anyway, I thought you would want to have some time with Max today. You know, father and son bonding stuff. You wouldn’t want me along for that. Go have fun. Or are you worried that he’ll wear you out?’
Lesson 101 in the Dealing With The Alpha Male Handbook – when all else fails, go for the ego.
He dropped his towel while he searched in the wardrobe, and Mona realized she had averted her eyes. There were many things she could live without seeing this morning and Piers’ tackle was on the list.
‘Suit yourself, then,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ve got a few calls to return, then I’ll see what Max is up to. Last time I was in Majorca was at that pro-am golf tournament last summer. Had one too many and bought a jet ski in the auction. Don’t even know what happened to the bloody thing.’
Mona remembered the trip well. Not that she was on it, of course. But she had found the receipts for the Presidential Suite with two English breakfasts every morning to be particularly enlightening. She just hoped Emily the Frump had remembered to pack the factor fifty because the midday sun would be hazardous to her washed-out complexion.
