Baby Be Mine (29 page)

I shake my head and pass it to him while he lights up. He takes a swig straight from the bottle then chinks it against the champagne bottle.

‘Am I not getting a glass?’ I ask him drily.

‘Come on, Nutmeg, you’re what – twenty-six?’

‘Twenty-seven next week.’

‘So live a little.’ He chinks the bottles together again before taking another swig. I follow his lead and drink straight from the champagne bottle. The bubbles hit the back of my throat and immediately add warmth to the heat that’s already inside my stomach because he remembered what age I am. He grins at me and indicates the polished concrete bench table overlooking the city. We walk over there, bottles in hand, and sit down beside each other.

‘So what do you think of Dana?’ he asks.

‘She’s nice,’ I reply.

‘You said you wouldn’t lie to me again.’

‘Hmm . . .’

‘She has a good heart,’ he says. I don’t know why he’s trying to convince me. ‘You’ll get to like her.’

Another swig, another drag on his cigarette. I take a deep breath. The night air is warm and the scent of pine trees mingles with the smell of Johnny’s smoke. The lights of the city blink and twinkle in the haze and far away a police car whizzes around the bends on a hill, its sirens blazing. A cricket chirps in the undergrowth. Johnny scratches at his stubble and gazes sideways at me before straddling the bench seat and facing me full-on.

‘You’re different,’ he says.

‘Am I?’ I change position so I’m also facing him. ‘In what way?’

‘More confident. You’re not blushing like a schoolgirl with every word I say.’

I take a drink and raise one eyebrow at him.

‘Only every second word,’ he corrects himself.

‘Bugger off.’ I kick his leg.

‘There,’ he says. ‘You see? More confident. I’m serious!’ he insists when I roll my eyes.

I rest my elbow on the table and prop my head against my hand. Thinking about it, he’s right. I’m no longer just his PA, an employee who fell in love with him. I can no longer be accused of being the same as all those nameless groupies. I’m the mother of his child. We are forever tied to each other. I guess that thought gives me comfort – and security, in a weird kind of way. That’s why I’m more relaxed. He might be one of the world’s most famous people, but he’s also just a man. A parent. And in that respect, at the very least, we’re equals.

He takes another swig and stares across at me. The way he’s looking at me is starting to make me feel a little funny. I take another drink myself, but don’t break eye contact.

‘Do you ever think about that day?’ he asks.

‘What day?

‘London, two years ago.’

He doesn’t say ‘Christian’s house’, but I know what he’s talking about. The last time we slept together.

I nod and he lights up another cigarette, scrutinising me. The alcohol has made him more blatant. It’s making me feel warm and fuzzy and somewhere, deep inside, I know this is a bad thing, but I don’t want him to stop looking at me. I want to go to bed with him.

Meg! What the hell are you thinking?

He jolts suddenly and reaches into his pocket for his vibrating phone, and like a bombed submarine, my heart sinks.

Dana . . .

‘Hey,’ he says into the receiver, looking away from me. ‘Just having a drink with Meg.’

He never calls me Nutmeg in front of her. I wonder if she has a nickname. I haven’t heard him use one.

‘No, we’re outside on the terrace,’ he says. ‘Sure.’ Pause. ‘Okay, see you in a bit.’

He hangs up.

‘Dana?’ Although I know I don’t have to ask.

‘On her way over,’ he says.

The bubbles go flat. What a waste of good champagne.

I yawn. ‘Well, I’m knackered.’ I don’t want to see Dana, not at the best of times, but definitely not when I’ve been thinking dirty thoughts about her boyfriend.

Johnny gets up and follows me inside, stubbing out his fag in one of the tall steel cylindrical ashtrays on his way past.

‘See you tomorrow,’ I say, not looking back as I head towards the stairs.

‘Nutmeg,’ he calls and I turn reluctantly to face him. He’s standing there in the middle of the room, clutching a half-empty bottle of whisky. His eyes are intense, even from this distance, and he looks hurt, like he’s in pain. Suddenly I want to run to him, to throw my arms around him, to kiss him, but I don’t. My feet stay rooted to the spot.

‘I’m glad you’re back,’ he says in a gruff voice.

I nod, and then I turn and walk up the stairs.

  Chapter 31  

I wake up early the next morning and glance across at the monitor. Barney has just started to stir. We’re both still jet-lagged. I climb out of bed and drag on my dressing gown, then go to the bathroom to take two Ibuprofen. My head hurts. That’ll teach me to drink champagne on a practically empty stomach. I stand there in the bathroom for a while, remembering my conversation with Johnny last night. I hate that I still have feelings for him. Bess was right: it’s my heart that’s the problem.

It’s a bright sunny day and even though there’s a chill in the air, after breakfast I decide to take Barney for a swim in the heated pool. I don’t imagine Johnny and Dana will emerge for some time. We splash about for twenty minutes and are just about to get out when a familiar figure walks around the side of the house in khaki board shorts and a red T-shirt. Santiago! He stops in his tracks and then his face breaks into a grin.

‘Hello, stranger!’ he shouts. ‘How the hell are you?’

‘I’m good!’ I beam, getting out of the pool and wrapping Barney in a towel before seeing to myself. ‘How are you?’

‘Still the same.’ He shakes his head and stares at Barney. ‘I can’t believe it.’ He meets my eyes and I shrug.

‘Mmm.’

‘They made me sign another privacy agreement.’

‘Did they?’ I laugh. ‘Probably for the best.’

‘Jesus, the shit’s really going to hit the fan when this comes out.’ My face falls and he apologises. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’

‘No, it’s okay. I know you’re right. Guess we’ll cross that bridge, hey?’

He looks older and broader – he must be twenty-four or twenty-five now. But he has the same olive skin, short jet-black hair and pearly white teeth. He always was good-looking, if a bit short.

‘What’s his name?’ Santiago asks, referring to the bundle in my arms.

‘Barney,’ I tell him and he holds out his arms to take him so I hand him over. I remember now that Santiago used to babysit his little brother when his mum – a nurse – had a shift.

‘How old is your brother?’ I ask.

‘He’s thirteen now.’

‘Not so little anymore.’

‘Still little compared to me.’

‘That’s true.’ I laugh. ‘Hey, listen, let me go and get us dressed and then we’ll come and keep you company. I want to know all the gossip.’

‘Oh, and there’s plenty,’ he says with a wink. ‘Let’s go out back to the hedges so we’re out of sight.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

I throw on some clothes and see to Barney and then root around in his downstairs giant golf-ball toy box for some children’s gardening gear I saw in there the other day. Then we go out of the front door and up the back of the garden to the hedges, where Santiago is already at work.

‘Tell me everything!’ I command, plonking Barney on the grass with a plastic spade.

‘You’ve met Dana, I take it?’ Santiago asks with an unamused look.

‘Not keen?’ I turn the tables on him.

‘Hell, no. Demented crazy bitch.’

‘Eesh.’ I sit down on the grass and cross my legs, staring up at him as he clips away at the greenery.

‘That’s putting it mildly,’ he says. ‘You know Rosa quit?’

‘She found Johnny after the overdose, right?’

‘Yeah, that’s not the only reason she left, though. She couldn’t stand Dana.’

‘Really?’ I sit up in anticipation.

‘Bad influence. You know it was her dealer that got them into that mess? So much for rehab.’ He snorts.

‘God.’

‘She was also always getting Rosa to do stuff for her.’

‘Bossing her about?’

‘No, that was the thing. She tried to wheedle her way into Rosa’s affections, batting her eyelashes at her, giving her shoulder massages, but Rosa was having none of it.’ He puts on a silly voice. ‘“Rosa, baby, you couldn’t do us some popcorn, could you?” There’s a friggin’ popcorn machine in the private cinema! All you’ve got to do is switch it on,’ he rants.

‘How do you know all this?’ I ask, because Rosa was no gossip.

‘Sandy told me.’ The maid. ‘She’s a friend of my aunt’s and we caught up at a barbecue recently.’

‘Can sign a privacy agreement, but can’t stop the staff from talking, hey?’

‘Exactly. Everybody’s gotta blow off steam.’

‘Have you spoken to Rosa?’

‘Nah, not me. We didn’t work together much. But I liked her. She was a nice lady.’ He looks down at Barney and then back at me. ‘So what about you? Are you going to tell me how this happened? I mean, Jesus, it was pretty obvious you were into each other. That time he flipped out when I gave you a cigarette? Jealous as hell, I knew that straight away. But a
baby
? A frickin’
baby
, Meg? How did that happen?’

‘Didn’t your mum tell you about the birds and the bees?’ I ask sardonically.

He rolls his eyes at me. ‘Okay, so you ain’t gonna talk, but, Jesus,’ he says again, shaking his head. ‘I never would have known.’

‘He’s surprised me,’ I admit honestly. ‘I didn’t think he’d take it as well as he has.’

‘I can’t believe you’re here again,’ he says with a grin.

‘Neither can I.’

Dana emerges around lunchtime looking like a bear with a sore head. She’s wearing a white vest with a black bra underneath, skimpy white shorts and holey black tights. I wonder if she went out looking like that last night. Probably.

Barney is trying to feed himself chicken pasta with a spoon. It’s not pretty.

‘Morning, Mary Poppins,’ she says drily as she goes to the fridge.

I frown. ‘Mary Poppins was a nanny, not a mother.’

‘Technicalities.’ She opens up the fridge and looks inside before slamming the door in disgust. ‘Still no fucking cook?’ I flinch. ‘What the fuck has Lena been doing all week?’ she snaps.

‘Can you watch your language around my son, please?’ I ask tetchily. ‘We interviewed some new cooks on Friday.’

‘What do you mean by “we”?’ She pulls up a chair at the table and sits down. Not that I want company. Not hers, anyway.

‘“We” as in Lena and me.’

‘Why did you get involved?’ She looks confused.

‘Johnny asked me to.’

She gives me a hard stare for a moment and then shrugs. ‘Guess you did use to work for him. And you haven’t got much else to do around here. Except for looking after this little dude.’ She peers at Barney too closely and then laughs when he glances at her indifferently and carries on eating.

‘Where’s Johnny?’ I ask.

‘In bed. Had a big one last night.’

‘Did you go out?’

‘No, we partied at home,’ she replies with a smug smile. ‘Drank the rest of your champagne.’ She raises her eyebrows at me disapprovingly and then tuts. ‘Leaving it outside on the terrace going flat . . . Didn’t figure you for the wasteful type.’

‘Were you just drinking?’ I find myself asking.

‘As opposed to doing hard drugs?’ She laughs. ‘You’re not going to lecture me, are you, chick?’ I open my mouth to speak, but she continues, ‘Because I don’t oppose this little guy being here, but I’m sure as hell not going to take any crap from
you.’

The way she says ‘you’ makes my mouth clamp shut again.

She glares at me and then gets up and goes to the door. ‘I’m gonna shoot. Tell Johnny I’ll catch him later.’

She walks out, not leaving me time to reply, even if I could come up with some suitably scathing words.

I’m still in a foul mood when Johnny emerges an hour later. I can barely look at him.

‘What’s up with you?’ he asks, sensing the bad atmosphere. Barney is asleep in his cot.

‘Can you tell your fucking girlfriend to stop swearing?’

‘Christ, Nutmeg, pot calling the kettle black.’

‘I mean it, Johnny. I’m angry.’

‘I can see that,’ he says, scratching his head. He looks rough. He has clearly been burning the candle at both ends.