by C. B. Martin
‘Moving swiftly on, this is the lounge area.’ I stated, proudly trailing my hands over the dark red, soft leather Chesterfields strewn with raw silk scatter cushions laid out in perfect formation.
I stopped filming for a minute while I fiddled around with the TV remote. I was trying to locate the music channel on the huge plasma screen. I had to scroll through hundreds of channels before I got to it, but when I did, I was rewarded with my favorite song in the whole wide world ever; ‘Je T’aime’. OMG - Je T’aime! Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin bought the world to their knees when they released it in 1969.
I vaguely remember mum years later boasting to all our neighbours excitedly that dad being in the music industry had managed to get her an illegal seven-inch vinyl. She was red-faced and sweating profusely clutching a ‘Learn French’ manual.
‘It was banned in England and Ireland years ago and now it’s been re-released,’ she whispered in a smug tone to a slightly nonplussed Mrs. Murphy.
‘Those French men,’ added Mrs. Murphy, folding her arms under her large breasts and raising her eyes skywards in mock disgust. ‘Dirty little feckers, so they are, sticking their tongues in your mouth when they kiss. Disgusting really when you think of those slimy snails and frogs they eat. Couldn't be very hygienic now, could it?’
‘But that’s the French for you,’ added mum, ‘so bloody sexy - only they could get away with that.’
I turned the volume right up as my thoughts plunged back to the past. I remembered when I first clapped eyes on the most beautiful, most perfect woman I had ever seen, Brigitte Bardot. I can vividly recall dad actually salivating watching a TV documentary about her and Je T’aime was the backing track. She was the epitome of sexiness and beauty. She had it all. I wanted to be her. It wasn't that I fancied her (well actually, if I ever was to become a lezzer, she’d be my type). I was just in awe of her stunning beauty and she just seemed to be idolised by all.
Seeing Brigitte Bardot on the TV as when I was a schoolgirl meant that I decided not to throw myself in front of the no.10 bus after all. Instead, I decided to change everything about myself. I would start with my carrot hair. I had been dragged to enough Salons to witness mum having her tightly-wound perm and mile-high bangs to know anything was possible. I would turnmyself into a blonde bombshell.
I waited till the house was empty and I gathered my tools carefully. My attempt to create a homemade hi-lighting cap involved; one Woolworth's carrier bag placed over my head, one strip of thick Sellotape (to tape the bag to my forehead) and one sharp, rust-free screwdriver (to prize areas of hair through that I wanted to be baby-blonde). Oh, and not to forget, one extra-large bottle of Co-op economy toilet bleach.
Sadly, instead of Bardo-esque blonde curls (perhaps predictably) I ended up with a head of hair that represented all the colours of the Irish flag: orange, green and white. When I saw what I’d done, I was hysterical.
‘What in God’s name has the child done to her hair?’ Dad asked, horrified, as I passed out and tumbled down the stairs in mortification.
‘Lord have mercy,’ gasped mum, slapping one hand across her mouth and using the other one to cover over Laura’s eyes to shield her from the horror. ‘Am I hallucinating?’
No matter, I thought, breaking my heart in the Salon chair as they clipped my mass of smoking burnt hair away. I had to shove mums knitted tea-cosy over my head. It will grow back and there’s always a no.10 bus tomorrow.
As the song faded away, I snapped back to the present. Pressing the video icon on my phone, I resumed my diary.
‘And this is the friggin’ empty bed,’ I yelled, pulling back the heavily embossed gold throw and the crisp white sheets in sheer temper and frustration. ‘We should be Fifty Shading in this four-poster right now!’
With that, I flung myself backwards, flopping onto the large bed and moodily threw my phone at the chair.
After a while, I decided I couldn’t very well stay naked all day, whatever Travis had requested. I wasn’t used to spending this much time in the buff and was feeling a little self-conscious. Apart from anything else, it wasn’t doing my self-esteem any good, because every time I caught sight of myself in the enormous number of mirrors dotted around the place I felt compelled to look more closely at all my flaws and defects.
Eventually, I decided there was nothing for it. Tutting, I popped a hand towel around me. Travis wouldn’t mind. I was only dressed scantily.
Desperate to keep myself occupied, I started to pack my things away. At least that way, when he did return, we could use the time usefully.
Thinking about it, I realised that was part of the reason I was so on-edge (apart from the fact my lover had shagged me and gone off to a meeting) was that I knew I was on the precipice of something big with him. I didn’t want things to go back to the way it had been; where I spent my life simply waiting for text messages and barely speaking to Travis. Everything was different now. We had exchanged bodily fluids. I mean, we could be pregnant. We were in love. Travis even passionately shouted it to me mid-orgasm.
‘Is that the sound of wedding bells?’ I giggled to myself, as I mentally relived the moment for the hundredth time. ‘Actually, imagine being Mrs. Travis Coleman.’
Just thinking about it gave me a warm, loved-up feeling. Then, my imagination racing, I hared off through my wedding day in my mind’s eye. I saw exactly how my wedding gown would look. It would be a white, fairytale puffball that gathered underneath the bust line, ruched and with a full skirt, shaped beautifully by layer upon layer of organza, and a bustle on the back. Yippee! It sounds totally like Cinderella already. It wouldn’t be backbreaking with millions of Swarovski crystals, just a thousand or two, because I’d need to glide around effortlessly. I did have to remember that there was a strong possibility that I could be at least five months pregnant by then, so my huge dress would need to cover that fact while still making me look, dare I say it, virginal. Very clever of me really, thinking ahead like that.
Oh, and I want a towering tiara with a bling bouquet and three-inch bejewelled acrylic nails. The wedding cake would be, err… a castle! It could be covered in mini candles and have glittery mechanical butterflies and feathers sprouting everywhere. All tastefully done, of course. There’ll be nothing tacky allowed at my wedding, no sir-ee. God, I wonder if it would be possible to… I’ve got it… to have our wedding at Castle Clonarf! Jeez, I really think I’m in the wrong profession. I should be a wedding planner.
In my fabulous daydream I saw myself standing next to him at the altar; Travis wearing an all-white, long-tailed tux and looking like my knight in shiny Armani. My mind wondered further and further. There would be white horses and carriages…
I wonder how he would propose? Would I give Hello magazine the contract or OK?
[Text from Travis]
Babe, wont be back till 2. They have laid on a lunch. I’m so sorry, I will call you asap Xx
In an instant, my fluffy world fell apart. The feckin’ bastard gobshite!
I had pictured Travis and I going to the airport together, hand-in-hand, us both sobbing uncontrollably and having to be prized apart. Surely he’d remembered I had to leave to get my flight by 1:30 at the latest? He’d booked the feckin’ thing after all. I despondently put back on my tit-stained woollen dress, suddenly feeling quite low.
[Draft message to Travis]
Travis?? Where for art thou, Travis? Xx
[Delete.]
[Draft message to Travis]
I want to puke, maybe morning sickness? Xxx
[Delete.]
[Text to Travis]
Oh no. I won’t see you before I go. I have to get a taxi by 1:30 latest. Can you come to say goodbye. Properly? :-( X
I held my breath, waiting for the return text. But, nothing. I watched the hands of the large antique clock tick on, but my phone was silent. I couldn’t leave it like this. It just didn’t seem right.
[Text to Travis]
Please call me. I would just love
to hear your sexy voice before I leave xx
Glancing at my watch, I held my breath as I waited for the return text. It was now 1:15pm and I knew I should be phoning reception to order a taxi, not staring at a blank screen. I felt like my oxygen supply had been cut off. I couldn't believe that one minute I’m practically babysitting our potential child, haggling vast amounts for our wedding pictures and dreaming about mechanical butterflies and in the next minute it turns out that I have… zilch, diddley-squat, niente. Nothing.
Bastard! I felt suddenly very hot and faint and couldn't stop the tears tumbling down my face. I rubbed my tummy and whispered to it in a huff: ‘Don't tell me you and your father are both going to be bastards?’
By 1:25pm I still hadn’t heard from him. Holding back the tears, I dialed zero and asked the very annoyingly cheerful receptionist to order me a taxi to the airport straight away. I picked up my bag and after one last glance around our love nest, I picked up his Castle Contarf dressing robe, inhaled his sexy scent from it, shoved it in my bag and walked out the door. Part of me still hoped that I’d see Travis running down the corridor in a last desperate bid to see me before I left. But no, the corridor was eerily quiet. I could hear some other guests chatting in the far distance and the low sound of the lift rumbling, but that was it.
Walking back into the vast lobby I realised I was a completely different person from the one who had been sitting in that chair, only a few hours before, bristling with anticipation. Yes, I had experienced everything I had expected and more, but at the same time, it hadn’t turned out anything like I had expected it to. Here I was, slinking out of the hotel alone, like some guilty hooker.
The smartly dressed doorman opened the door for me and gave me a kindly smile as he showed me to the waiting cab. It was all I could do to hold back the tears, which were building up in my eyes.
‘Airport, please,’ I said to the driver, keeping my head down and staring at the blank screen of my phone on my lap.
Come on, Tara, I said to myself, in a vain bid to gee myself up. You hate goodbyes anyway.
I’d just have to console myself with the flashbacks that continued to send my stomach flipping with fuzzy wuzzy sensations in my lady-garden. That, and the fact that Travis would definitely have to pay for the wedding now - to make up for letting me down on our first proper date.
[Text to Travis]
I’m so sad that we didn’t get to see each other before I left for the airport. About to board, hope your meeting is going well. Call when you can xxx
Right up until the moment I boarded the plane, I honestly believed he would call. But he didn’t. I tried switching my phone on and off, but there was still nothing wrong with it. He just wasn’t calling. I kept it turned on right up until the moment when the trolley-dolly hissed to me that the seatbelt sign was on and we were preparing for takeoff - so all electronic devices had to be switched off. I needn’t have worried though. The phone would have stayed resolutely silent. When I flicked it back on after we landed, there were still no new messages or missed calls.
Amazingly, by the time I arrived back home I’d managed to get myself into a better place emotionally. Yes, I was exhausted and every part of my body ached, but it was worth it - Travis was worth it. After a few stretches to straighten my back out, I had managed to convince myself that poor Travis would have been suffering as much as I was. There I was, cursing him while he was stuck in a boring meeting, desperate to see me and hating himself for letting me down like this. What was it he said? Yes, ‘leaving me was the hardest thing he had ever had to do in his whole life’. Why had I been so hard on him?
I just wished he would call, though, I thought as I placed my phone beside my bath and eased myself into the hot, bubbly water for a well-deserved, long soak. I looked down at my body where he had laid his, just a few blissful hours ago and closed my eyes. I smiled and drew in a deep breath. I wanted him in my life, now more than ever.
After my long bath, I wrapped my Castle Clontarf dressing gown around me and lay on the sofa, ignoring all calls from friends and family. Eventually, I drifted off.
[Text from Travis]
Hi babe sorry it’s so late, had a mad busy day. I hope you got home safely Xxx
Checking the time on the phone, I saw it was midnight. He had certainly taken his time getting back to me. The cheek of him, I thought. I’ve a good mind to tell him to feck-off with himself. But to be honest though, I just felt so happy to have heard from him at last.
[Text to Travis]
Thanks so much for such a lovely time. I’m home safe and sound. Can’t wait to see you again xxxx I’m still awake if you want to call?
CHAPTER TEN
I’d been back at work for three days and still had no contact from Travis whatsoever, which left me more than confused.
The last time I’d spoken to him he’d been climbing out of bed with me, after the most incredible night of sex. However, I didn’t dare tell anyone he’d not spoken to me since (except for a brief text complaining that the hotel had tried to charge him for a bathrobe he hadn’t bought). How do you tell a man that you stole his bathrobe so you could retain his scent? There was no way I could admit that I had taken it, but I did phone the hotel and pay for it on my (already dented) credit card. I begged the receptionist to tell Travis there had been some sort of admin mix up and they had made a mistake. She must have thought I was nuts.
My phone never left my side. In a desperate bid to be strong, I did resist texting him, but it was nearly killing me.
‘Tara, darling,’ said James, clearly about to begin yet another tactic to cheer me up after I’d spent another day moping about the Salon. ‘You know that New Year’s resolution we all made last month? About going to the gym? Well, I’ve found the perfect class for us all. It’s street dancing. Jackie, Jayde, you and I are all going, so go and fetch your gym kit and we’ll meet you there at 6:30?’
‘Ummm… not sure if I’m in the mood James,’ I said, feeling rather flat.
‘Of course you are, Tara, you want to be in shape for Travis, don’t you?’ James said, waving away my objections. ‘He will be constantly surrounded by rugby groupies looking to sample what he has on offer. You’ve got to keep in shape, okay? Fabulous. See you there.’
Just as I was about to tell James to bugger off, my phone received a text message. It was all I could do to stop myself shrieking.
[Text from Travis]
Hi babe, I miss you & love you. Sky Sports tomorrow. Live match. Watch it. I’ll scratch my nose to say hi xx
…
[Text to Travis]
Omg, so pleased to hear from you. I love & miss you too!!!!! XXX Can’t wait to watch you and the match.
Xxxxxxxx
…
[Text from Travis]
How about me popping by after, gorgeous? It’s not that far from you and we’ve got some unfinished business… ;-)) xx
…
[Text to Travis]
What??? Yes, yes, yes!! When? Where? Are you serious?
Xxxxxx
…
[Text from Travis]
Yep, I’m serious, we fly over to London tonight ready for match tomorrow xxx
…
[Text to Travis]
OMG!!! What time do you think you will be here? Shall we go for dinner? What type of food do you like? Soooo excited! xxxxxx
…
[Text to Travis]
Did you get my text? Xxxxx
…
[Text to Travis]
Tried to call you 100 times, can’t get through! Can you please let me know ASAP, OR I WON’T BE THERE, ALL DRESSED UP SEXILY, WAITING FOR YOU! XXX
…
[Text from Travis]
Hi gorgeous, sorry, it’s mad busy, I will call you when I’m on the way to you. What sexy clothes are you going to wear? xx
Huh! I will let him know when I know myself. It’s funny that when I mentioned not being there he magically responded. I clearly needed to get bett
er at the whole treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen tactic.
Feeling like a completely different person (now that I had heard from my love), I turned around to face my colleagues with a beaming smile.
‘Right everybody!’ I announced with a big smile on my face. ‘Who wants to see rugby players getting all hot and sweaty?’ For once, I immediately had James’ attention and the girls weren’t far behind.
‘We’re all going to watch my husband-to-be on Sky Sports,’ I grinned. ‘We can watch it here in the Salon, but afterwards you’ve all got to feck off, because he is coming here to whisk me off as a romantic gesture and then have rampant sex with me.’
With that, I grabbed my stuff and marched out of the Salon, leaving everyone speechless at my transformation. I didn’t care. I had less than 24-hours to get into shape. Sod the dance class though. I didn’t have weeks to hone my body. I needed to fast track my glamour. Heading towards the shopping mall, I quickly called Travis to ask his preference of food so I could book a restaurant but, just as per usual, his phone was going straight to voicemail.
[Text to Travis]
Good luck tomorrow, darling. I can’t wait to see you on TV. (And in the flesh) :-) Xx
Arriving at the mall, I headed straight for Ann Summers. I wasn’t messing about. Walking purposefully around, I surveyed the lingerie on the rails with deep intent. As I headed through the shop, I couldn’t help but notice the merchandise seemed to grow more intriguing the further back I went. A black leather whip caught my eye. Hmm, I mused, my imagination boggling for a moment. Alongside the whip was a PVC catsuit, also in black. Strategically placed beside it was a matching pair of leather handcuffs. A whoosh of domineering thoughts overcame me.
