‘I can see practically every shop from here,’ Jemma sighed, pushing her sunglasses down over her eyes as she checked the tourist information they’d picked up from the ship on their way out that morning. ‘And I’ve got euros burning a hole in my pocket. I’m desperate for a new handbag and if I can’t find a decent one here in Spain then things have to be bad!’
‘We’ll go and explore Las Ramblas when we’ve finished our coffees,’ Aimee said, checking her phone as a picture message popped up on her screen.
‘From Danny?’ Jemma asked, draining the last of her cappuccino.
‘Yep,’ Aimee replied, smiling at the photo he’d just sent her of him and Cal standing in front of La Sagrada Familia, the huge, imposing – and still unfinished – building by Spanish architect Antonio Gaudi. He’d also attached a text message – Where r u? Got couple of hours off. Want 2 meet up? She showed the message to Jemma. ‘Fancy it?’
Jemma read the message and immediately shoved all the tourist literature she’d been reading back in her bag. ‘Hell, yeah!’
‘Okay,’ Aimee smiled, quickly tapping out a reply to Danny, telling him to meet them out on Las Ramblas, the central boulevard that cut through the heart of Barcelona’s city centre; a vibrant and lively promenade that was home to shops, bars, restaurants, and anything else that the city had to offer. ‘Let’s get that sorted then.’
‘Is he bringing Cal?’ Jemma asked, flipping open her compact and checking her make-up.
‘Of course he’s bringing Cal,’ Aimee replied, opening the return message Danny had just sent her. ‘And they’re going to be about half an hour or so, they’ve got to catch a Metro train here to the Plaza.’ Aimee slipped her phone back into her bag and finished the last dregs of her coffee. ‘So, that leaves us with a little bit of time to check out this rather impressive department store. Handbags are down on the ground floor, so let’s go see if we can’t relieve you of any of those euros before the boys get here.’
*
‘You and Aimee…’ Cal began as he and Danny exited the Metro and began walking towards Plaza Catalunya.
‘What about us?’ Danny asked, looking down at the tourist map in his hand to make sure they were heading in the right direction.
‘It is just a bit of fun, isn’t it? I mean, being here on this cruise, getting the band back together – everything’s a bit all over the place, isn’t it?’
Danny stopped walking and looked at Cal. ‘What part of “I’m divorcing Davina” are people failing to understand here?’
‘Yeah, but, you just seem to have jumped straight into this – well, is it a relationship?’
‘Aimee’s a great lass, I like being around her, okay? Nothing more than that,’ Danny shoved his hands in his pockets as he continued to walk. ‘We’re having fun, she’s giving me an excuse to forget about all the shit going on back home with Davina. That’s all.’
‘Okay. Okay, I’ll quit with the questions,’ Cal sighed, falling back into step beside Danny. ‘I just worry about you, alright? You’re not as focused as the rest of us…’
Danny stopped walking again, causing Cal to almost run into the back of him. ‘Aha! I knew there was more to this conversation. Has Andy told you to talk to me, huh? Has he asked you to get me to step back in line, start behaving myself; stop putting this reunion in jeopardy?’
‘Look, Dan, what is it with you and Andy? Because, as far as I’m concerned, mate, it isn’t you copping off with random women that’s gonna stick a spanner in the works of Bon Voyage’s big comeback. It’s whatever’s going on between you two. You want to spill the beans?’
Danny started walking again, catching sight of the huge El Corte Ingles department store in the distance. ‘There’s nothing to spill. I just don’t get on with the guy, never have. Sixteen years apart hasn’t really changed any of that, and Aimee isn’t some random woman.’ He looked at Cal. ‘You got that?’
Cal held his hands up in resignation. ‘Hey, I’m done with this conversation now.’
‘Good. Because I want to enjoy these couple of hours off and having you bumping your gums in me ear constantly is only serving to stress me out. And I hoped that being here, away from home, would be a break from all that crap.’
Danny pushed his sunglasses down over his eyes as he walked, picking up the pace slightly because he was kind of eager to see Aimee – more than he realised, if he was being honest. Being with her was certainly that breath of fresh air he so desperately needed right now, and the sex was great, he couldn’t deny that. But it wasn’t just that. Not anymore. He liked being around her, he liked talking to her, hearing all about her life back in Newcastle and the things she and Jemma got up to. She was just an ordinary, every day kind of girl and, for the first time in his life, Danny realised that that was what he’d never really had – an ordinary, every day kind of girl. He’d always gone for the more obvious model-types, the Z-List celebrities, the Reality TV wannabes and for a time he’d craved all that. Those were the type of women he’d loved being around but when he thought back to it now, he had absolutely no idea why. And if he thought about it for long enough, he also had no idea why he’d stuck it out with Davina for so long. He couldn’t say he hadn’t loved her, because he had. When they’d first got together he was flattered that someone as beautiful as her would want him, seeing as the band had split up and he was nothing more than a painter and decorator when they’d met. But, of course, looking back at it now, the big question should be had she ever really loved him? Or had she just stuck with him in order to cling onto that tiny bit of “fame” that would always hang around him just to keep her own name there in the spotlight? Albeit a very small and very regional spotlight. Davina Black never really had made it big outside of northern England. Was she looking at Bon Voyage’s comeback as her way of finally changing that?
Jesus! He was forty-one year’s old now – would he ever get his head straight? Would he ever find what he really wanted? Maybe – maybe not. But, in the meantime, he was having fun. And beyond that? Well, the future wasn’t something Danny Johnson wanted to even think about right now.
*
‘Is that Brendon?’ Jemma asked, squinting slightly as she peered across the wide, tree-lined street at a little bar with tables and chairs outside. ‘Is that all he does? On every excursion he comes on?’
‘Hmm, sorry?’ Aimee asked, spraying a bit more factor 25 over her shoulders. They’d started to go a bit red and the last thing she wanted was burnt red shoulders – they’d clash horribly with that lovely green top she’d bought from John Lewis.
‘Brendon. He’s sitting in that bar over there, look.’
Aimee shielded her eyes from the blazing midday sun as she peered across at the bar, catching sight of Brendon chatting with another couple they’d seen periodically around the ship, his booming laugh echoing around Las Ramblas as he relayed some story or other to them, filling up their glasses with wine and signalling to the waiter to bring them another bottle.
‘Every time we’ve seen him out and about he’s been sat in some bar sampling the local booze,’ Jemma said, taking the bottle of sun lotion from Aimee and spraying her own shoulders and arms. ‘Every single excursion, without fail. Have you ever seen him doing anything else?’
Aimee frowned as she tried to think. ‘Actually, no. But maybe that’s his thing, y’know, trying out the bars of every different city, town and village we visit. Maybe that’s his idea of culture.’
‘Yeah. I’m sure it is. And what’s his excuse back on the ship, huh?’ Jemma smirked. ‘I mean, have you ever seen him anywhere other than propping up any one of the bars on that boat? I had a morning walk round the pool area the other day, just to clear the cobwebs away…’
‘Get rid of your hangover, you mean,’ Aimee smiled.
‘Yeah, whatever. But I was on my way to breakfast, Aimee – and he was sat at the Calypso Bar sipping a Screwdriver! I swear, I didn’t know whether he’d been there all night and was just finishing a session
or if it was his idea of a morning pick-me-up! Your mother’s not with him today, is she?’
‘I think she’s learnt her lesson after the Cassis incident. She’s realised Brendon’s better in small doses – she’s not good with hangovers is my mam. Her and Ricardo have gone on the ‘Barcelona Walking Tour’ with Laugh-A-Minute-Lydia. Much safer.’
‘Probably wise. Ooh, look! It’s Bob and Barbara! Barbara! Over here!’ Jemma shouted, waving at them frantically from across the street, Barbara click-clacking over in her silver flip-flops, closely followed by Bob in his now trademark cut-off knee-length denim shorts, sandals and Sheffield Wednesday football shirt, half a dozen carrier bags in tow.
‘Hello, girls,’ Barbara smiled, planting kisses on their cheeks. ‘Are you having a lovely day?’
‘We are,’ Aimee smiled back. ‘We’re just waiting for Danny and Cal then we’re probably going to go for some lunch and explore Las Ramblas for a bit.’
‘Oh, those lovely young men!’ Barbara gushed, placing a ring-adorned hand on her chest. ‘I saw their show the other night in the Vegas Show Lounge, and I have to say, they were very impressive.’
Bob looked at his wife, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it up. ‘Impressive? Was nowt but noise as far as I was concerned. Took meself off to the Clipper Bar I did, listened to some real music. They ‘ad a young lad in there doing Frank Sinatra, now there’s songs to be enjoyed. Not the rubbish they churn out nowadays.’
Barbara threw her husband a look. ‘Ignore him, girls. He’s never been one to move with the times. He’s still stuck in 1963.’
‘Where’ve you been this morning then?’ Jemma asked, keen to divert away from another of Bob and Barbara’s playful but sometimes lengthy spats.
‘Well, apart from the obvious shopping…’ Barbara began, indicating the pile of bags between Bob’s feet, ‘…we went to have a look at that – oh, what’s it called? That great big building that’s still not finished yet? Bob, what was it called?’
‘’Ow do I know, woman?’
‘Well, weren’t you listening to the bloody tour guide? Honestly, taking him anywhere is pointless; he hasn’t got a cultural bone in his body.’
‘Why would I want to go gawp at some ‘alf finished building surrounded by cranes and scaffolding? I can see that back ‘ome on that building site down the road.’
‘See what I mean?’ Barbara sighed, folding her arms and shaking her head. ‘Can’t take him anywhere.’
‘’e’s got the right idea,’ Bob went on, indicating over to Brendon, still comfortably ensconced in the bar across the road. ‘I mean, a bloody ‘oliday’s supposed to be for relaxing, isn’t it? Not traipsing round Christ knows ‘ow many shops. She’s got me done in she ‘as.’
‘Oh, stop your moaning, you old whinge bag. You love it really.’ Barbara slipped her arm through Bob’s and smiled at Aimee and Jemma. ‘I’d better take him for something to eat; he’s starting to get tetchy. You enjoy your afternoon.’
‘We will,’ Aimee and Jemma said in unison, watching as Bob and Barbara walked back across the road towards a little café, Bob murmuring something about going back to the ship because lunch was free there only for Barbara to drag him into the café, carrier bags flying behind him.
‘I love those two,’ Aimee sighed. ‘They remind me of Mam and Dad – before he ran off with the bowling club bike and my mother turned into Barbara Cartland reincarnated… Jemma, what are you doing?’
Jemma was frantically scrabbling round in her bag. ‘Looking for my compact.’
‘Why? You only re-did your make-up ten minutes ago.’
‘They’re almost here,’ Jemma said, retrieving the compact and quickly checking her face, running her tongue over her teeth to remove any unwanted lipstick that may have found it’s way there. ‘Cal and Danny.’
Aimee looked up and she couldn’t stop her stomach from doing a tiny back flip, her face breaking into a smile as she saw Danny approaching, looking cool and sexy in knee-length combat shorts and trainers and a Foo Fighter’s T-shirt, dark glasses covering those incredible blue eyes of his. ‘Oh, yeah. So they are.’
Jemma looked at Aimee. ‘Do you want to check your face?’
‘No. I’m assuming I’ve still got the same one I had when I woke up this morning so that’ll do for me.’
‘You’re very sharp today,’ Jemma sniffed, throwing her compact back into her shoulder bag. ‘Mind you, you always get this way when you’ve got a new fella on the go.’
‘Danny is not my new fella, Jemma,’ Aimee hissed. ‘And for God’s sake, don’t let him hear you say anything like that. He’ll run a frigging mile.’
‘But you’d like him to be, wouldn’t you?’ Jemma teased, nudging her friend.
‘Shut up,’ Aimee said. ‘Of course I wouldn’t. Nothing like that’s going on and you know that.’
‘I’m just saying,’ Jemma said primly, shaking out her hair and running her fingers through it as Cal and Danny got closer.
‘Well, don’t.’ Why had Jemma said that? Now Aimee couldn’t get the thought of her and Danny as a couple out of her head. She was already imagining the newspaper headlines and the photographs of them out together at film premieres and concerts, her wearing fabulous outfits and him all handsome and sexy beside her, holding her hand… Damn! She was going to kill Jemma when they got back to the ship. Nothing like that had ever crossed her mind, not once, but now she couldn’t stop thinking about it!
‘Hey, ladies,’ Cal smiled as he and Danny finally reached the girls. ‘You had a good morning?’
‘Yeah. We have,’ Jemma smiled back, licking her lips as she locked eyes with Cal. ‘But it looks like this afternoon is gonna be a whole lot more enjoyable.’
Aimee slowly turned her head to stare at Jemma. What on earth was she on? But Jemma was far too busy making goo-goo eyes at Cal to notice the look Aimee threw her, so Aimee left her to it and turned to Danny.
‘Hi,’ he smiled.
Oh, God, Aimee thought, why is that killer smile of his making me feel so nervous today? She smiled back at Danny with a look that was, hopefully, far less sickly-sweet than the one Jemma was still forcing on poor Cal. Although he didn’t seem to be too bothered by it. Maybe he was used to the Jemma’s of this world.
‘Hi.’ Was that all she could say? Hi? Was that going to be the extent of her conversation today? And why was she suddenly so tongue-tied? She certainly hadn’t been tongue-tied last night when they’d been… Well, she just hadn’t been short of anything to say. This was all Jemma’s fault, for assuming that she wanted Danny to be her “new fella”. For putting ridiculous ideas in her head. As if Danny Johnson would ever have somebody like her as a girlfriend! Besides, he was still married, wasn’t he? Oh, shit, now she felt like a proper slut again. She was sleeping with a married man! And not just any married man; he was her one-time pop idol, her fantasy man! What was she doing? She was going to hyperventilate in a minute, she was positive.
‘You okay?’ Danny asked, a look of genuine concern on his face as he looked at Aimee, who was trying hard not to let a random panic attack take hold.
‘Me? Yes. I’m fine.’ Her voice had suddenly gone up about three octaves and even Jemma had momentarily ceased her rather obvious seduction of Cal Connor to look at her.
‘Why’s your voice gone all squeaky?’ she asked.
‘It hasn’t,’ Aimee replied, her voice – indeed – squeaking. Slightly.
‘It has. You alright?’
‘I’m fine!’ Aimee covered her mouth and coughed, hoping that would sort out whatever had happened to her vocal chords. ‘I’m fine.’ Thank God! That’d got it!
Danny stared at her for a few seconds longer, then smiled that killer smile again, and Aimee couldn’t help but smile back. What the hell! She might as well continue to enjoy him while he was here. She’d probably never see him again after this holiday so, even if it did feel slightly wrong it was too late to pretend it hadn’t happened at all. Wasn’t it
?
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ Danny asked, his hands still buried in his pockets, but he’d pushed his sunglasses up onto his head now and all Aimee could focus on were those blue, blue eyes of his. ‘You look a little – flustered.’
‘I’m just not used to this heat,’ Aimee replied quickly, pulling the wide-rimmed hat she was wearing down a little further over her eyes. ‘Coming from Newcastle, y’know, we don’t usually get this kind of weather.’
He laughed, that deep, slow laugh and Aimee felt her heart race just that little bit faster, which did nothing to ease the burning of her cheeks that had absolutely nothing to do with the heat – not really. ‘Yeah. I get where you’re coming from. Look, do you girls fancy something to eat? We can find a nice little restaurant, sit outside, share a bottle of wine or two… Does that sound okay?’
‘That sounds perfect,’ Aimee smiled, looking over at Jemma who nodded, her arm linked through Cal’s, a huge grin plastered all over her face.
‘Great!’ Danny held out his hand to Aimee and she took it, with only the slightest hint of hesitation, her stomach dipping as his fingers curled around hers. Why was she feeling like this now? Was this really all because of what Jemma had said? ‘Let’s go grab some food.’
2:00pm
They’d enjoyed a lovely lunch in a gorgeous little restaurant on Las Ramblas, sitting outside under the shade of a huge canopy watching the world go by on the busy boulevard as they’d tucked into tapas of marinated peppers, chorizo and chicken, and Boles de Picolat – meatballs in a rich tomato sauce – all mopped up with plenty of fresh, crusty bread and all washed down with a couple of bottles of the famous Catalan cava. And now, with Cal and Jemma heading back to the ship for a spot of sunbathing, Danny and Aimee had decided to check out a few of the sights along Las Ramblas. Although, if Aimee was being honest with herself, she felt a little nervous of being left alone with him, and she had no real idea why.
Bon Voyage Page 14
