Bon Voyage

by Michelle Betham

  Danny looked down at the ground for a second, looking up to see Aimee’s friend corner Andy by the Leaning Tower souvenir stall. ‘Nothing. Forget I said anything.’

  Aimee followed his gaze. ‘Oh, God… Do you want me to get her away from him? I know she can be a little – over-exuberant, shall we say – at times.’

  Danny laughed, running a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back off his face. He had a strong face, Aimee noticed, something she’d never really paid that much attention to before. Strong features, a good jaw line, a perfect nose, and a mouth that was oh-so-kissable. So very, very kissable. And how many times had she wondered what it would be like to kiss that mouth? How many times had she fallen asleep thinking about this man that stood in front of her and what it would be like to be with him?

  ‘It’s fine,’ Danny smiled. ‘Andy’s a big boy now, I think he can handle himself.’

  The sound of his voice shook her back to reality, and she was only glad she still had her dark glasses down over her eyes because she was sure she’d been staring just then.

  ‘You okay?’ Danny asked, returning his hand back to his pocket, a slight look of concern on his face.

  ‘I’m fine. I’m absolutely fine. Erm… ‘ She had no idea what to say next. Her mind had gone completely blank, and then a look of complete panic took over as she saw her mother approaching, with Engelbert in tow, making their way over to her and Danny at a speed Aimee had never seen her mother move at before, obviously curious as to just who she was talking to. And without even thinking Aimee grabbed Danny’s hand and ran quickly round the nearest corner, hoping with every fibre of her being that her mother hadn’t seen where they’d disappeared to.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Danny asked, slightly confused now.

  ‘Do me a favour,’ Aimee gasped, trying to get her breath back. She never usually moved that fast unless it involved running to the front door to collect an Indian takeaway. ‘Stick your head round that corner and make sure nobody’s following us.’

  Danny looked at her, frowning. ‘Are we in a Bond movie or something? Who would be following us? Apart from Brummie Barry with his camera that is and, quite frankly, I’m glad to see the back of him for five minutes.’

  ‘My mother,’ Aimee replied.

  ‘Your mother’s following you?’ Danny was even more confused now. ‘Why?’

  Aimee leaned back against the wall and sighed, sliding her sunglasses up onto her head. ‘She saw me talking to you and was making her way over to us like a woman on a mission.’ She looked at Danny. ‘You don’t know my mother. She’s a writer. A romance writer. She writes books for Hearts & Flowers, y’know, all heaving bosoms and ridiculously handsome heroes.’

  ‘Really?’ Danny said, raising his eyebrows in surprise. ‘A writer, huh?’

  ‘Yeah, a writer. And my mother will use any situation as “research”, especially one involving her only daughter talking to an incredibly good-looking man…’ As soon as she’d said that Aimee clapped a hand over her mouth, looking at Danny with wide, shocked eyes. What had she just said? Talk about making it obvious!

  Danny couldn’t help but smile. ‘You think I’m incredibly good-looking, do you?’

  ‘I didn’t say that…’

  ‘Err; I think you did, actually.’

  ‘Did I?’ Aimee was having one of those wish-the-ground-would-open-up-and-swallow-her moments. ‘I’m… I’m sorry…’

  Danny was still smiling, liking this woman more and more with every crazy, ridiculous second that went by. She was a breath of fresh air he’d never had the chance to experience with Davina. She’d always been too busy having something false glued or inserted into or onto her nails, hair or chest to even think about being “natural” or having fun.

  ‘Don’t be sorry. I think you’re rather good-looking yourself, as it happens.’

  The blush seemed to flood over Aimee’s face and neck before she’d even had a chance to finish hearing what he was saying, and she knew – she just knew – that that nervous rash that always appeared when she was embarrassed or edgy would show itself any time now. Once the blushing had died down.

  ‘Look, can I say something?’ Danny asked, turning so he faced Aimee, standing in front of her as she leant back against the wall. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night.’

  Aimee gulped. ‘Really?’

  He was smiling that killer smile again, one hand on the wall right beside her head as he edged closer to her. ‘Really. And all that – “fun” we said we were going to have together, well, I can’t wait for it to start. As long as you’re still up for it, that is.’

  Was she? Stupid question. Of course she bloody was! No point in backing off now, he was practically inviting her. So, it would be rude to refuse, really, wouldn’t it? She smiled back. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you, either.’

  That killer smile got wider and he laughed, a low, sexy as hell laugh that caused Aimee’s stomach to flip over a dozen times. ‘Yeah. I really like you, Aimee Anderson.’

  ‘Even after all this rather erratic behaviour I’ve been displaying?’ she asked, wanting to reach out and touch his face so badly, to run her fingers over the stubble on his perfect jaw line, to touch his mouth and see if it felt as good as it looked. ‘Because I’m not really this crazy y’know. Not all the time. I can be quite normal.’

  Danny shook his head, moving closer still as he spoke, so close she could feel his breath on her face. ‘No, you see, I don’t actually want you to be – normal, as you put it. I like you just the way you are.’

  ‘You do?’ Aimee smiled, unable to take her eyes off him. He was giving her no choice really, and he was way too close for her to have any chance of making any kind of getaway. If she’d actually wanted to make a getaway, that is.

  Danny moved even closer, his mouth almost touching hers as he gently pushed her fringe out of her eyes. ‘Yeah. I do.’

  She gulped again, her legs suddenly turning to jelly, her stomach flipping over and over because he was so very close now, so close she could smell his aftershave – Cool Water. It suited him.

  ‘Just the way you are,’ he whispered, and before Aimee could even think about anything he was kissing her, his mouth moving ever so gently against hers, the warmth of his body making her heart beat ten to the dozen and she had to grip onto his arm to steady herself. Was this really happening? Was she really being kissed by a member of Bon Voyage – her favourite member of Bon Voyage, no less? Was Danny Johnson really standing here, kissing her, just metres away from the Leaning Tower of Pisa? How surreal was that?

  ‘Oh, my God,’ she breathed when he pulled away, although he stayed close, didn’t move from where he was standing.

  ‘Was it that bad?’ he asked, pushing a hand through his hair again.

  ‘No! I didn’t mean that, it’s just…’

  He laughed, his hand suddenly slipping into hers, taking her by surprise once more. ‘I know what you meant, Aimee.’

  She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. She was literally struck dumb; nothing could make any sound come out of her. Until the dulcet tones of Jemma shouting out her name broke the mood, bringing those few blissful minutes of whatever that had been to an end.

  ‘I’d better go,’ Aimee said, reluctantly letting go of his hand, which was a shame, because it had felt nice and warm and safe. He had lovely soft hands, which surprised her slightly, seeing as he’d been hanging wallpaper and plastering ceilings for the past sixteen or so years.

  ‘I’ll see you soon,’ he smiled, stepping back to let her go. ‘Okay? And this – what happened here – can we…?’

  She smiled at him, suddenly feeling as though she were eighteen again and had just met her pop idol for the very first time. ‘Yeah. We can. We definitely can.’

  Hemingway’s

  7:20pm

  ‘So, tell me, darling. That young man you were talking to this afternoon, in Pisa,’ Marcie began, cornering Aimee as she sat at
the bar in Hemingway’s drinking her usual pre-dinner cocktail. Today, Milo – the lovely Fillipino barman who had taken to greeting her and Jemma with a new cocktail every evening at 7pm – had made her an Appletini, the taste of which she was fast falling in love with.

  Aimee looked at her mother, resplendent in a flamingo-pink kaftan and matching scarf tied round her candyfloss-pink hair. She looked like a walking bottle of Pepto Bismol, but who was Aimee to call the fashion choices of the North East’s number one romantic novelist?

  ‘He’s hardly young, Mam. He’s forty-one.’

  ‘Well, he looked young from where I was standing.’

  ‘You weren’t standing anywhere, Mam; you were running towards us like a charging rhinoceros.’

  ‘Yes, and you rudely disappeared. I only wanted to say hello. I’m your mother, of course I’m going to take an interest in who my daughter is talking to.’

  ‘You never want to “only” do anything, Mam,’ Aimee pointed out, taking another sip of her wonderfully sweet Appletini. She could get used to these things. She must ask Milo what went into it, when he’d finished flirting with Jemma that is.

  ‘The way you’re talking you’d think I would have embarrassed you,’ Marcie huffed, her expression suddenly changing as Brendon wandered into the room, his mass of salt and pepper hair brushed back with what looked like a whole jar of Brylcreem. ‘Brendon! Darling! Over here!’ Marcie sing-songed, waving her pink-sleeved arm in the air as Brendon strode over, kissing her on both cheeks. Jemma looked at Aimee, sticking two fingers down her throat and miming a gagging action, which only made Aimee giggle, rather too loudly. Marcie threw Aimee a stern look. ‘Brendon and I shall be dining in Sirocco’s, the A la Carte restaurant, this evening.’

  ‘Just the two of you?’ Aimee asked, signalling for Milo to knock out another Appletini.

  Marcie looked at her daughter again, pursing her pink-tinted lips. ‘Engelbert is a guest at the Captain’s Table tonight, if you must know. So he can’t join us for dinner.’

  ‘And I stepped in to make sure your wonderful mammy here had a fitting dining companion,’ Brendon said in his booming southern Irish accent, holding his arm out for Marcie to take.

  ‘That’s nice,’ Jemma smiled, downing the last of her cava cocktail. ‘Did you find anyone then?’

  Both Aimee and Jemma dissolved into fits of giggles, Aimee almost falling off her stool in the process.

  ‘Ignore my daughter and her friend,’ Marcie said tightly. ‘They’re not usually this rude. Too much sun and too much alcohol.’ She slipped her arm through Brendon’s, adjusting the neckline of her kaftan so it showed just enough of her ample cleavage, for a woman of a certain age. ‘Hopefully they’ll start acting like adults once they’ve lined their stomachs. Come on, Brendon. We’ve got a table reserved for 7:30. We don’t want to be late.’ And in a flourish of pink, she swept out of Hemingway’s, leaving Aimee and Jemma still giggling like a couple of kids.

  ‘I love your mam,’ Jemma sighed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand then immediately pulling out her Chanel compact with the inbuilt vanity light to check she hadn’t smudged her mascara.

  ‘She’s something else, that’s for sure,’ Aimee sighed.

  Jemma snapped shut her compact and threw it back into her bag, turning on her stool to look at Aimee. ‘And talking of something else, you and Danny Johnson! Why aren’t you running round the decks like an excited adolescent? You kissed a pop star, Aimee. One of our favourite pop stars! The man you would have killed to kiss at one time. Hey, do you remember the time you wrote “Aimee Johnson” all over the back of your Biology book because you said you wanted to practise your signature for when you and Danny got married?’

  ‘I was fourteen, Jemma. And anyway, he hasn’t been a pop star for over sixteen years. And he kissed me; let’s get that straight, okay?’

  ‘Will you stop nit-picking, for heaven’s sake? This is one holiday romance you are not gonna forget, Missy. Not if I have anything to do with it, anyway.’

  Aimee couldn’t stop herself from smiling again. A big, wide smile, accompanied by the feeling of a zillion or so butterflies flying loose around her stomach as that excitement mixed with anticipation flooded through her again.

  ‘Is it not wrong though, Jemma? I mean, I’ve only just met the guy, and yet here I am absolutely itching to get him into bed…’

  Jemma raised an eyebrow. ‘Whoa! You really aren’t wasting any time, are you? You go, girl!’

  ‘Believe me, I want to, but…’

  ‘Aimee, just go with it, will you? You’ve just come out of a really messy relationship…’

  ‘The relationship was fine, actually, thank you. It was just the bloody end that was messy.’

  ‘Whatever. Look, just go with it. Whatever happens with you and Danny… You’re here to have fun, Aimee.’ Jemma looked at her friend. ‘Don’t analyse it, okay? Don’t read too much into it, just enjoy it, I mean, Christ, if I could get Andy half as interested in me…’

  ‘He didn’t fall for your feminine wiles in Pisa then?’ Aimee smiled, taking another sip of Appletini.

  Jemma sniffed. ‘Well, no. Not straightaway he didn’t, but I like a challenge.’ She signalled to Milo to get her a refill, which he did with his usual big grin. He was quickly becoming their favourite barman. ‘So, tell me. When Danny kissed you – what did it feel like?’

  Aimee smiled again, running her finger lightly over the rim of her cocktail glass as she remembered every second of that kiss. She’d been remembering it and replaying it over and over in her mind ever since it had happened, and she’d probably continue to do just that for the rest of the night. Until the next time Danny Johnson kissed her, which she hoped wouldn’t be too far in the future. ‘It felt nice,’ she sighed.

  ‘Nice,’ Jemma repeated. ‘You kissed Danny Johnson and you say it felt nice.’

  ‘Yeah. What’s wrong with that?’

  Jemma downed her second cava cocktail in two mouthfuls, picked up her glittery gold handbag and slid down off her stool. ‘How many girls would walk over hot coals to be in your position, and you describe it as nice?’

  Aimee finished her Appletini and stood up too, checking her mobile phone for any messages. Just incase. ‘It was nice, Jemma. There were no violins playing or fireworks exploding or… There was nothing like that. Okay?’

  But, even as Aimee said that, she could still hear the bangers going off in her head.

  *

  ‘What’s happening, Danny?’ Andy asked, sitting down next to his band mate, who seemed to be in a world of his own.

  ‘Nothing’s happening,’ Danny replied slowly, continuing to stare out to sea, watching a flock of seagulls flying alongside the ship as it moved swiftly through the Mediterranean waters on its way to France. ‘And even if something was happening, which it isn’t...’ He turned to look at Andy, ‘… it’d be none of your business.’

  ‘Is it Davina? Because if you want to talk – I mean, I know we’ve never really been the best of mates…’

  ‘You got that right,’ Danny said, getting up out of his seat because the last thing he was in the mood for was a conversation with Andy Crabtree. ‘And it’s not Davina, okay? She’s not a problem anymore because it’s over.’

  ‘She’s agreed to get the divorce back on track then?’

  ‘No, she hasn’t but… Look, like I said before, it’s got nothing to do with you. Nothing’s going on, nothing’s happening. Just get off me back, will you?’

  Andy stood up too, following Danny back into the Lido Café. ‘Really? Only, I saw you talking to some girl – Aimee, wasn’t it? I’m sure that’s what her friend said she was called – in Pisa this afternoon. Know her well, do you?’

  Danny stopped walking and turned round to face Andy. ‘None of your business, Andy. How many times do I have to say that?’ He started walking away again, weaving his way through the crowd of people lining up for their evening meal, out of the self-service restaurant, making his wa
y back to his cabin, Andy following him all the time.

  ‘It’s only ‘cause I care about you, Danny,’ Andy said, desperately trying to keep up.

  Danny stopped again and swung round to face Andy. ‘No, you don’t. The only thing you care about is getting this band back together so that you can claw back some of the fame you so desperately want back. You don’t care about anyone else. Not unless there’s some chance that they could mess things up for you.’

  ‘Danny! Come on, mate, that’s not true…’

  But Danny didn’t want to hang around and listen. He was tired, it had been a weird kind of day and he just wanted to get back to his cabin and grab an early night. Thankfully there was no show that evening, but tomorrow was another day of rehearsing and filming, being followed everywhere by Brummie Barry and his ever-present camera, and Danny just wasn’t in the mood.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Cal asked as Danny crashed into their cabin, throwing himself down on his bed.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ Danny replied, resting his hands behind his head as he lay back, turning his attention to the cabin TV.

  ‘Yeah. Looks like it,’ Cal muttered, pulling on a T-shirt and running his hands through his hair, spiking it up.

  Danny hauled himself up off the bed and went over to the mini-fridge, grabbing himself a beer. ‘It’s Andy. He’s doing me frigging head in, always following me about, asking if everything’s alright…’

  ‘He’s only trying to be friendly, Danny.’

  Danny took a long swig of beer, throwing himself back down on the bed. ‘Yeah, well, I’d rather he didn’t. I’m not interested in another friend. I’ve got plenty.’

  Cal splashed aftershave on his face, checking himself out in the mirror, smiling at his reflection. ‘Not bad, even if I do say so meself.’ He turned to look at Danny, who was now flicking through the TV channels, trying to find something to watch. ‘Me and the lads are all going for a drink in The Pub, then maybe a couple of hours in Revival. You want to join us?’