Baby Be Mine (20 page)

‘I’ve seen a few,’ Johnny admits. ‘But you can never get bored of a good view, can you, Geoffrey?’

‘I quite agree,’ my mum chips in.

Er, hello?

‘Shall I get Barney?’ Mum asks, standing up before I can answer.

‘Um, yes, okay,’ I agree, before looking meaningfully at Johnny. ‘Can I have a word, please?’

‘Oh, dear,’ Mum says over her shoulder as she walks past. She knows that tone. Dad gives Johnny a sympathetic look as he climbs over my dad’s feet and out past the sofas.

‘In here.’ I direct him to the kitchen.

‘Alright?’ he asks casually.

‘No!’ I hiss. ‘What the hell are you doing, drinking?’

‘I’m not an alcoholic, Nutmeg,’ he replies, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. ‘I just have a little issue with narcotics now and again.’ He glances through to the living room to give my dad a whoops-a-daisy kind of look. Thankfully my dad doesn’t hear or see.

‘What you are, is in denial,’ I snap. ‘And I’m having none of it while you’re around my son – or my parents!’ I add.

‘Okay, chick.’ He puts his hands up and pulls a naughty-boy face at me, before pouring the rest of his red wine down the sink and opening the fridge.

‘Can I get you anything?’ My mum comes bustling in with Barney in her arms.

‘A glass of water would be lovely, Cynthia.’

Cynthia? Geoffrey? Since when were they all on first-name terms?

‘Right you are,’ Mum says, passing over my son. Barney rubs at his eyes tearfully and suddenly he’s all I can think about.

‘Are you hungry, baby?’ I ask him.

He snuggles into my shoulder.

‘Hey, there!’ Johnny says brightly, peering at his face. Barney lifts his head up to look at him for a moment before burying his head into my other shoulder, away from Johnny.

‘Oh,’ Johnny says, disappointed.

‘Here you go, Johnny,’ my mum interrupts, handing him a glass of water. ‘Don’t worry about Barney; he’s always sleepy when he wakes up,’ she adds.

‘Especially if he’s slept in until after four o’clock,’ I mutter.

‘Give it a rest, Meg,’ Mum snipes.

Okay, so I didn’t mutter that quite quietly enough.

‘Shall we go out to the terrace?’ Dad calls from the living room. Mum glances at me for confirmation.

‘Yes, okay,’ I agree.

‘I’ll get us some nibbles,’ she says.

‘Barney won’t eat his dinner if he snacks now,’ I point out.

‘We won’t let him have anything, then.’

‘You can’t stop a child from eating if it’s right there in front of them,’ I say.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Mum replies. ‘We’ll all go hungry, in that case!’

I take a deep breath, but can’t keep the annoyed tone from my voice. ‘Do what you like. Forget it. I’ll just give him some rice cakes now.’

‘There’s an idea,’ Mum says. ‘I’ll get on with the nibbles.’

What is it about my parents that makes me revert to being a moody teenager again? I hate it. Yet here I am, living in their house. This can’t go on for much longer.

I walk out of the kitchen. Johnny follows.

‘Chill out,’ he says soothingly, although it just comes across as irritating to my ears.

‘Don’t you start,’ I turn back and jab my finger at him.

‘Hey, hey!’ He puts his hands up again, then something catches his eye. ‘Fuck me, your parents like potpourri.’

‘Language,’ I reply automatically before following his gaze. There are several bowls of dried flowers within eyesight – I hadn’t really taken them in before. ‘Hmm, yes,’ I agree. I never really thought of my parents as potpourri types. ‘Must be to do with living here. Did you know Grasse is the perfume capital of the world?’ I ask.

‘Yes, Nutmeg, I read up about it on the plane.’ He grins, humouring me.

‘I’m surprised you managed to do anything between whiskies,’ I say caustically. ‘What was with all the security and that fuss at the airport? I thought we were supposed to be keeping this low-key?’

He shrugs. ‘You know how these things go.’

‘I bloody well do, and they always go haywire when you’ve been at the booze.’

‘Language,’ he chides, a twinkle in his eye.

‘God, you are so annoying.’

‘And you are so cute when you’re angry.’

‘Don’t start with that,’ I warn.

‘Why not? Anyway, I’ve got a girlfriend,’ he says nonchalantly. ‘I’m not starting anything.’

‘Is anyone planning on joining me?’ my dad calls from the terrace.

‘We’re on our way.’ I give Johnny a look and lead the way outside through the French doors.

‘Can I get you a top-up?’ my dad asks Johnny, brandishing a bottle of red wine. ‘Oh,’ he says, spying Johnny’s water glass.

‘No, thanks, Geoffrey, I’ve been put in my place.’

‘That’s no good,’ my dad replies, disappointed at losing his drinking partner.

I scratch my head with frustration and sit down. I envisaged this to be difficult in an entirely different way.

‘Here we go,’ my mum says cheerfully, putting a tray full of nuts, olives and savoury biscuit-type things on the table. Barney is instantly wide awake. ‘Here you go, little one.’ She passes me a packet of rice cakes. ‘You forgot them,’ she says to me.

I take them from her and open the packet, but Barney is only interested in the snacks on the table.

‘Can’t he have a biscuit?’ my mum implores, pulling a face.

‘They’re full of salt,’ I point out.

‘It doesn’t matter, does it?’ She frowns. ‘One won’t hurt him.’

I take a deep breath and stare straight ahead before nodding tautly. I’ve lost the will to argue.

Johnny offers to drive himself back to his hotel – it turns out Lena insured him on the Golf when she bought it – but, as he’s been drinking, I feel I have no choice but to take him myself. When I return to my parents’ house, there’s another car on the driveway. I’m irked, seeing as I had asked them, very nicely, if they could please not invite their friends around for the duration of Johnny’s stay. Maybe someone dropped in unannounced.

I turn my key in the lock and push the door open. My mouth almost hits the floor when I hear my annoying sister Susan’s annoying husband Tony’s guffawing laugh.

Excuse my French, but WTF?

Aghast, I walk down the corridor to the living room and there, through the double doors to the garden, I see Susan and Tony sitting at the terrace table. I stand and stare. Almost as though sensing my presence, my mum spins around and spots me, simultaneously leaping to her feet.

‘
Meg!
’ she exclaims, putting her glass of wine on the table and opening her arms wide. She was halfway on the tipsy train to drunk when I left, but now she has clearly reached the station.

‘There’s my little sister!’ Susan booms, going to the effort of standing up. She wouldn’t usually bother; Tony doesn’t.

‘What’s going on?’ I manage to splutter. ‘What are you doing here?’

Susan looks disgruntled. ‘That’s a nice welcome, isn’t it?’

‘How? How? Why?’ I stutter in my parents’ direction.

‘What?’ Susan demands to know, snappy now. ‘I’m allowed a break from London life to come and see my parents, aren’t I? What’s your problem?’

I ignore her and stare straight at the guilty party. ‘Did you tell them he was going to be here?’

My dad looks into his glass. My mum shifts from foot to foot.

‘Who?’ Tony tries to fake surprise, but he’s a terrible liar, amongst other things.

‘It sort of slipped out,’ my mum admits worriedly.

‘How?’ I exclaim. ‘How did it “sort of slip out”?’

‘Excuse me!’ Susan interrupts angrily, putting her hands on her hefty hips and shaking her short-ish, curly brown hair. ‘I’m your sister. I have a right to know!’

‘Did you tell her about Barney?’ My eyes open wide as I look at my parents.

‘No, no, no,’ Mum hastily replies.

‘What about Barney?’ Susan chips in, her eyes darting between Mum and me.

‘Nothing,’ we both say simultaneously.

‘I only told her that Johnny was coming for a visit,’ Mum quickly explains. ‘That the two of you were still friends.’

‘Why would you do that?’ I cry.

‘Why shouldn’t she? She’s my mother!’ Susan erupts.

‘Because you and Tony would probably turn up on the doorstep unannounced and uninvited! And . . .
surprise!
Here you are!’

‘I don’t see what the fuss is all about,’ she replies, now slightly guiltily. Tony helps himself to another glass of red wine and takes a massive gulp. He’s good at getting through booze when he hasn’t paid for it.

‘Well, you’re not going to meet him, if that’s what you’ve planned,’ I say furiously. ‘There’s no way in hell I’m bringing him back here now.’

Susan slams her hand on the table, making everyone jump. ‘You are such a bitch!’

I glare at everyone and storm inside to my bedroom, desperately wanting to slam the door, but not enough to warrant waking my son.

I can’t believe this! Why? Why did my mum tell them about Johnny? Of course they were going to be here in a shot! I still remember how pissed off Susan was with me for not getting Tony a signed copy of Johnny’s album – she didn’t care one iota that I’d lost my job and that I was miserable.

What on earth is Johnny going to think?

  Chapter 21  

I take Barney with me the following day to collect Johnny. I’m quite certain that, knowing my luck, Miss Bitchy on reception won’t be working today, so I’m surprised when we go inside to see her sitting there. She glances up and sees me, then goes back to clicking away at her computer. I walk up to the desk. She ignores me.

It suddenly occurs to me that she’s playing a computer game. Quick as a flash I lean over the desk and peer at her screen. She is! She’s playing Solitaire!

‘Aha!’ I say triumphantly as she quickly closes the window. ‘I knew it!’

‘Can I help you?’ She tries to put on a front, but I’ve totally caught her off guard.

‘Here to see Johnny,’ I reply, grinning like a crazy lady. I’m so delighted to have caught her out that it’s put me at ease.

‘Johnny?’

She’s playing dumb again.

‘Look,’ I say, putting Barney down on the floor. ‘Are you going to call him, or am I?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ There’s no conviction to her behaviour this time, though. She’s starting to doubt herself.

I pull out my phone and dial Johnny’s number. A couple of rings in, my heart starts beating faster with adrenalin – it would totally take the wind out of my sails if he didn’t answer. The receptionist raises one catty eyebrow, then, praise the Lord . . .

‘Nutmeg,’ he says.

‘Get your butt down here,’ I reply.

Miss Bitchy’s mouth falls open.

‘Are you here already?’ Johnny asks me.

‘Yep. In reception.’

‘Why didn’t reception call me, then?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say, turning to look at the girl. I peer closely at her nametag. The print is tiny – what use is that? ‘Jeannette asked me to call you myself.’

‘I didn’t!’ she squawks. ‘I didn’t ask you to call!’

‘Shh.’ I put my hand up to silence her.

‘Want to come up?’ Johnny says. ‘I’m in the penthouse suite.’

‘Penthouse suite,’ I repeat out loud, flashing Jeannette a sarcastic smile.

‘I’m not dressed yet,’ Johnny drawls.

‘We’ll be there in a sec,’ I say brightly. ‘But put your pants on first, Johnny, I don’t want to see you naked.’

I snap my phone shut, cutting off the sound of him chuckling.

‘Been there, done that.’ I raise one eyebrow at Jeannette, then almost clap my hand over my mouth when I realise what I’ve just said.

‘Come on, Barney.’ I try to keep my cool.

Jeannette leaps to her feet. ‘I’ll take you.’

‘No, no, no,’ I say sweetly. ‘You’ve already been
so
helpful, and you’re clearly
very
busy.’ I give her computer a pointed look and then spin around on my heels and lead Barney to the lift.

Johnny opens the door to us. He’s wearing jeans, but no shirt.

‘I thought I told you to get dressed.’

‘You told me to put my pants on.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Which I did,’ he adds with a grin. ‘Hello, Barney!’ he says cheerfully.

‘Look, check this out,’ I say proudly, standing Barney on the floor in front of me. He grips my fingers, but I gently extricate myself. ‘Go to Johnny,’ I urge. Barney takes a few unsteady steps before falling backwards on his nappy-clad bottom.