by Jules Wake
She also recalled a section on if your partner lacks the mental capacity. Paying closer attention to that bit might have come in handy.
‘Why are you doing this? And what do you get out of it … I’m not sleeping with you.’
With a lightning-quick reaction, he smiled. ‘I didn’t ask you to.’
She blushed, realising that her response made it sound as if she were considering his dumb-ass offer.
‘Why two weeks? And why now?’
‘Why not?’ He shrugged and lifted his glass as if he didn’t have a care in the world. In front of her eyes, he melted into the role of louche, devil-may-care actor. ‘My schedule’s quite light for the next couple of weeks. I’ll be at a bit of a loose end. At least with you, I can be confident you won’t set the paparazzi on us or sell your story to the press.’
What had she expected? That he still cared? Still thought of her? She was the dumb-ass but his flippant response still hurt a little bit.
‘This is a game to you, isn’t it?’
He shrugged again. ‘If that’s what you want to think. Like I said, I’m at a loose end.’
‘We wouldn’t want you to be bored, would we?’
Her icy sarcasm didn’t even come close to hitting the mark. He responded with a cheerful smile and raised his glass in yet another toast.
With a discreet tug at the tablecloth, the waiter made his presence known. Carrie could have kissed him.
‘Madame? Monsieur?’
‘Do you want some more time?’
Carrie shook her head and buried her head in the menu.
‘I’ll have the scallops followed by the fillet de boeuf,’ said Richard, handing his menu back to the waiter. ‘Rare, please.’
Her vision a little blurred, she examined the choices with the intensity of finals’ student opening an exam paper. Crevettes en cocotte, beignets de crabe, moules frites aux Pernod, canard à la bourguignonne. Her taste buds withered, unable to summon the energy to show any enthusiasm for the expensive, Michelin-star menu.
‘I’ll have the same,’ she said hurriedly. Richard’s choices sounded as good as any. ‘Although not rare. Medium.’ Rare in France meant blue didn’t it? That sounded far too adventurous. ‘Actually, well done.’
The waiter straightened, worry lacing his face, as if the prospect of facing the chef with that request held some terror, while amusement danced across Richard’s.
Anger flared in the pit of her stomach. ‘No, make it rare.’ Carrie took a defiant gulp of her champagne, emptying the glass, the bubbles exploding in her mouth, along with the realisation that playing safe wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
‘Two weeks.’ Carrie seized the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket on the stand next to the table and topped up her glass and then his. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’ She picked up the glass and lifted it in toast to Richard, who followed suit, clinking it against hers. War had been declared and he’d won the first skirmish. From the grin on his face, he knew it too.
‘Excuse me?’
The steak, oozing blood and smelling divine, arrived and along with it, a giggly woman clutching an enormous handbag, wobbling on high heels, which raised her height to all of five foot.
She peered at Richard, who before Carrie’s eyes, slumped in his seat, his neck vanishing almost instantaneously.
‘Are you Richard Maddox?’
Carrie examined her steak for all she was worth.
‘D’you know, you’re the third person who, asked me that?’
Her head shot up at the sound of his broad accent, it could have been Richard’s father sitting opposite.
‘I wish I had his money. Me and the missus would be cruising in the Med, wouldn’t we, love?’ He’d sunk even further into his seat, his whole shape changed. John Maddox might as well have been sitting in front of her. She had to credit him, Richard was a brilliant actor.
‘That we would,’ she answered suddenly filled with devilment, matching his Brummie accent, gravelly syllable for syllable. ‘Although with you and your seasickness,’ she laced the words with weary disappointment, ‘you’d spend most of the time with your head down the loo. Terrible traveller he is.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Sees a wave and he’s gone.’
‘Oh,’ the woman shuffled a step backwards, her handbag raised above her chest, her earlier smile fading with uncertainty ‘You look similar. Are you sure you aren’t him?’
‘I should know. Been married to the bugger for ten years. He’s no Richard Maddox, I can tell you. Especially not first thing in the morning,’ said Carrie with feeling. ‘Ha! Can you imagine it? Like sleeping with a delinquent walrus. Snoring, farting. You have to be joking.’
With each phrase the woman took another step back. ‘Sorry. My mistake.’ She bolted as fast as her heels allowed back to a table, to an accompaniment of mouthed questions from her companions.
‘Wasn’t him!’ she heard the woman declaim in a loud disgusted tone as the group crowded around her, their heads all craning towards her. A burst of laughter echoed around the restaurant along with a chorus of good-natured teasing and heckling.
Richard gave them all a cocky wave, in keeping with his sudden Northern persona.
‘Delinquent walrus? Where did that come from?’
‘I don’t know.’ Carrie lifted her napkin to hide her giggles. ‘It popped into my head.’
‘I think I’m going to have to ration your champagne intake from now on.’
‘Just when I was getting a taste for it.’ She took another sip. ‘It’s rather nice. I think I might enjoy the next two weeks after all.’
‘While I am starting to have second thoughts,’ teased Richard, his blue eyes twinkling down at her as amusement tilted the corners of his mouth, making her pulse behave very strangely.
Oh lord, she was going to have to watch her step.
‘You sounded exactly like your dad. How is he?’ She almost missed the tiny movement as his jaw tightened.
‘Same as ever. Still thinks I need to get a proper job. The only way he’s ever going to be proud of me is if I land the James Bond role.’ Bitterness rubbed the edge of his words.
‘I think you must be exaggerating. Surely by now, you’ve done enough to make him proud.’
‘You think? “Still dressing up and poncing about at your age, it’s not right.” That’s his view.’
At his bleak expression, she leaned over and put her hand on his and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘You know your mum would have been thrilled to bits with your success.’ She saw him swallow, his eyes focusing on a point far beyond the edge of the terrace.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘Did Richard say anything more about the party?’
Jade pounced on Carrie as soon as she walked through the door, making her feel like she was eighteen again and coming back after her date to face her dad.
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’ Jade folded her arms, her chin lifted in mulish protest.
‘I’m quite sure.’ Carrie walked towards the kitchen, her niece following. ‘We had other things to talk about.’
‘I can’t believe you want to marry Alan when you’re married to him.’
‘I’m sure you can’t,’ said Carrie, asperity making her voice waspish.
Jade had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘It’s just that he’s not exactly Mr Riveting.’
Carrie ignored that comment and crossed to the fridge, pulling out a jug of lemonade. Angela had been busy again.
‘It’s not fair, you get to go swanning off and I’m stuck here.’
Carrie laughed. She could think of worse places to be stuck.
‘We haven’t even been anywhere to see people,’ Jade sighed. ‘Eliza keeps asking me if we’ve seen anyone famous and you won’t let me tell her that Richard Maddox came here. For dinner.’ Her voice rang sharp with accusation, leaving Carrie in no doubt that she was responsible for Jade’s terribly dull life and the injustice of not being able to impart the most important
bit of gossip ever.
Carrie remembered being the same age, on holiday with her parents, and the utter disappointment when they’d eaten their picnic from tin-foil packets, sitting, bare legs sticking to the vinyl plastic leather-look seats, in the back of the car, instead of sprawling on a tartan wool rug, a wicker basket at the ready, on a sun-facing hillside overlooking the sea.
‘I tell you what. Why don’t we get all dressed up this evening and go into St Tropez, celebrity-spotting? We can have a drink in one of the bars on the front.’ And hang the expense.
Jade’s face brightened and like an exuberant puppy, she bounced on the spot. ‘Yes! Can we? That would be ace. Yes! Let’s.
‘Hey, Mum, guess what? We’re going out tonight.’ Angela, used to Jade’s lightning prophecies and announcements, nodded mildly. Carrie envied her equanimity as she said, ‘Jolly good. You found the lemonade. What do you think?’
‘It’s delicious.’ Carrie enjoyed the tart sweetness on her tongue. ‘I could get used to this.’
‘How did it go with Richard?’
Jade had skipped off back to pool armed with her phone. The promised excursion would keep her and her WhatsApp group occupied for the rest of the afternoon.
‘Confusing,’ said Carrie.
‘Really?’ Angela glanced over her shoulder as she perused the contents of the fridge. ‘Shall we have dinner when we get back? What was confusing? I thought you’d researched everything. It sounded straightforward.’
‘It would be if I was dealing with a sane, normal person.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s being difficult about it.’
‘Why?’
‘He wants us to spend time together.’
‘What, after all this time?’
‘Exactly.’ Carrie hauled herself up onto the kitchen counter. ‘I could strangle him, except he makes it all sound so bloody logical. He said not being divorced has worked perfectly well so far, so what’s another two weeks.’
‘Oh.’ Angela’s quizzical sigh matched her own confusion. ‘What did you say to that?’
‘What could I say? I need him to sign the petition. Plus, he said if I agreed to his two weeks, he’d pay for a solicitor to speed things up, which would help. And he can afford the best in the business. It would mean that Alan and I could get married in October as planned.’
‘You agreed?’
‘Yes. We’re going out for the day tomorrow.’
‘Anywhere nice?’
Carrie pulled a face. ‘It’s a surprise. I don’t get it at all. I think he’s being pig-headed for the sake of it.’
Angela lapsed into thought. ‘Did you ask him why?’
‘I tried.’
‘It’s quite romantic,’ she mused, ‘long-lost love.’
‘There’s nothing romantic about it. He’s not used to being turned down or not getting his own way.’
‘I guess he does have his pick of women.’
‘Exactly.’ Carrie slid down from the top. ‘I’m going for a swim.’
Perhaps a good, energetic thrash up and down the pool would dispel this sense of disquiet. What did Richard hope to achieve?
He’d unleashed a wash of unsettling memories, their attendant searing emotions jostling for space in her head and punching into her heart. She needed to insulate herself and keep her emotional distance. He could have his two weeks, but it didn’t mean he was going to enjoy them.
‘OMG, have you seen the size of that yacht?’ Jade craned her neck, no inhibitions about gawking at the boisterous group talking and chatting on the deck of the sleek, white cruiser.
You couldn’t miss it, rising four decks high from the water, a glossy advert for unlimited wealth, dwarfing and outshining the faded umber facades of the three-storey buildings opposite. Radio antennae and radar-shaped gadgets were testament to the advanced technology on board, hidden from view by the tinted glass windows.
Even the crew in matching white polo T-shirts and navy- blue chinos, shorts showing off tanned lithe legs, were beautiful people with sun-streaked hair and gorgeous smiles.
Carrie had never seen anything quite like the harbour front with its row of billionaire’s yachts moored side by side, each one bigger and better than the last.
In full view of the early-evening crowd of tourists, designer-clad parties on the decks of several craft illustrated blasé indifference to the spectacle they provided, almost playing to the open curiosity of the have-nots wandering along the quayside as they bayed with overloud laughter, the light glinting off their champagne glasses.
‘It’s like Made in Chelsea,’ sighed Jade, snapping away with her phone. ‘Do you think they’re famous? Do you think Richard knows some of them? I bet he does. It must be brilliant to be on board one of those.’
‘Unless you get seasick,’ said Carrie with a giggle, suddenly remembering their lunchtime conversation.
‘Like you’re going to get seasick in the harbour,’ scoffed Jade.
She had a point. Carrie wondered how many of these floating gin palaces ever put out to sea. This one, with its aerodynamic sharp, sleek lines, looked as if it could be readied for inter-galactic travel within seconds.
The names of the yachts fascinated her. You Only Live Once. Loaded. Rich Pickings. Laura Cash. Nice n Easy.Maid in Diamonds.
An impatient, lordly honk behind them was a terse reminder that they were wandering along the road and when they moved, a Rolls Royce Phantom, complete with silver lady on the bonnet, cruised past them and glided to a halt at the next berth. A middle-aged perma-tanned couple, diamonds glittering at her ears and a Rolex watch on his wrist, so enormous you couldn’t miss it, strolled down the gangplank, on a red carpet, no less, and waited as the driver of the car leapt out, strode to the back passenger door and opened it. With regal insouciance they slid into the back seat, the driver closed the door on them and without acknowledging the audience of passers-by who had all stopped, mouthing ‘who are they?’ he slipped back into the car and it purred away, cutting a swathe through the thronging pathway.
‘How the other half live,’ observed Angela.
‘Crazy isn’t it?’ replied Carrie. It was a shame, they seemed so aloof and separate from the rest of this vibrant world, where the night buzzed with excitement, anticipation and expectation.
‘Where do you think they’re going?’ Jade studied the yacht they’d vacated.
‘Some Michelin ten-star restaurant somewhere, I guess.’ Carrie couldn’t help thinking of lunch and the eye-watering bill that Richard had paid without a second glance. This was another world, overladen with wealth and conspicuous consumption but beguiling in its decadence, glitter and glamour. There was a part of her that would love to be on board one of the yachts, experiencing the high life.
Jade looked less than impressed. ‘I’d be clubbing. Did you know the VIP Room is down there? Last year Rhianna and Chris Martin played there. You know the age here is sixteen, instead of eighteen like at home.’
‘And you’re not going clubbing here,’ said Angela. ‘Even if you had someone to go with.’
‘The year after next year, when my exams are finished, me, Eliza, Charlotte and Becky are going to Ibiza. Wall-to- wall clubbing.’
‘I can’t imagine anything worse,’ said Carrie.
‘Well that’s because you’re old,’ said Jade. ‘You don’t understand these things.’
‘We were young once,’ Angela cuffed her daughter lightly around the head. ‘And your aunt was positively wild in her youth.’
‘Were you?’ Jade’s exaggerated amazement stung.
‘I wouldn’t say wild but I had a good time.’
Angela’s facial expression disagreed.
‘Okay, I was a little wild.’
‘Really.’ Jade’s interested was clearly piqued. ‘What sort of things did you do?’ Her tone suggested that it was absolutely impossible that her aged aunt, who was all of thirteen years older than her, could have done anything approximating wild.
‘I once rode naked down a one-way street on a bicycle.’
‘You never.’ Jade stopped dead in the street, much to the annoyance of the German family behind her.
‘I did.’ Carrie grinned. ‘For a good cause. It was to publicise a play we were doing in Edinburgh at the festival.’
‘Was that the year you stayed in that castle with the Laird?’ asked Angela.
‘I never knew about that.’ Jade frowned as if she were trying to work out a difficult maths question and kept having to check back over the figures because the answer didn’t add up.
‘No, it was the year after that. We needed to fill the theatre every night and we’d agreed it was a great publicity stunt. Thing was, when it came to it, no other bugger would do it. So,’ she sighed, ‘I did it.’
But only because Richard had dared her to do it.
‘I never knew that.’ Angela looked horrified. ‘I’m surprised you weren’t arrested.’
‘So was I!’ Carrie began to laugh as the memory of that day crystallised in her head. ‘We were hoping I would be, as that would have made a better story, but the policeman was ever so nice about it, even though he didn’t know where to look.’
‘You nearly got arrested!’
‘Yeah,’ Carrie said with a sheepish smile, ‘I avoided mentioning that one at home.’
‘What was the play?’ asked Jade.
‘Lady Godiva.’
Angela burst out laughing. ‘Please don’t tell me the bicycle was done up as a horse.’
‘Damn, I wish we’d thought of that.’
‘Did it work?’ Angela asked.
‘It did, although there were a lot of disappointed Scottish men in the audience who were there to see the English bird with her kit off. They thought it was part of the performance.’
Angela smiled, ‘I might have seen the funny side of it.’
‘Not a chance I wanted to take, thank you.’
‘Can we stop for a drink now?’ asked Jade.
‘Yes, where do you fancy going?’
