Baby Be Mine (5 page)

They got that right.

I’m done. I’ve had enough. I push the laptop lid down and put the machine back on the side-table before wearily getting to my feet.

That’s the reason why I don’t do this very often.

  Chapter 5  

The next morning, Barney rouses me from a deep sleep. I lie there in bed, as exhaustion weighs down every part of my body. I would give anything to be able to stay here all day, but, after a while, his happy babbling turns into whining and I drag myself from bed and stumble through to him.

‘Good morning.’ I try to sound bright and breezy.

His face breaks into a toothy grin and all my bad feelings instantly evaporate. He’s the most important person in my life. I can’t fall back into that black hole. I lift him up onto the baby-change station in his room and proceed to change his nappy.

Last night seems surreal. I feel strangely detached about the whole thing now. Johnny’s just another idiotic celebrity to end up in hospital after a drug overdose. Of course I don’t still love him.

Weight lifts from my stomach. I smile down at Barney – a genuine smile.

‘Shall we go up into the village and get some croissants for breakfast?’ I don’t expect him to answer, but I like talking to him in any case.

I throw on some shorts and a T-shirt and quickly get Barney dressed before buckling him into his buggy and bumping him down the stone steps to the front gate. Cucugnan is a beautiful, medieval village situated on a hill. Said hill is small in comparison to the mountains that encircle it, but it certainly doesn’t feel like it as I manoeuvre the buggy up the steep road towards the village centre. We pass the town hall and post office on the left, and a bar and a couple of shops on the right and then the road starts to wind as we make our way up to the seventeenth-century windmill at the top of the hill. Sometimes there’s a break between the buildings and I can see the mountains beyond. I use these viewpoints as an excuse to catch my breath and let the burning sensation in my thighs die down. No wonder Christian was able to comment on my figure the other day – these hills are hardcore.

Long before we reach our destination we can hear the machinery whirring and chugging as it grinds the flour. The bakery is located right underneath the old windmill and it looks like something out of
Elle Deco
with its wooden beams and cupboards painted in neutral tones. Classy blackboards detail current specials, and cakes, biscuits, bread and almond meringues are laid out on display tables at the entrance. I go inside to order, then return to the bright sunlight with our purchase. There are bench tables outside, but instead of sitting at one we head past the windmill and around the corner to the rocks at the very top of the hill. I have to park the buggy with the brake on and carry Barney and our breakfast the rest of the way. I pause for a moment when I realise there’s a blonde girl sitting on the dry yellow grass in the distance. She has her back to us and is facing the surrounding mountains. It dawns on me that she’s doing yoga.

I reluctantly drag my eyes away and sit on a rock, nursing Barney on my lap. The morning sun is casting a glow over the mountains and down below there’s a patchwork of lime-green vineyards and the small village cemetery. Opening the paper bag from the bakery, I pull out a biscuit – I forgot they do croissants only on weekends – and hand Barney a small piece. We can have some proper breakfast when we get back home.

This area is full of crumbly old castles. I stare up at the Château de Quéribus on top of a mountain peak. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been transported back in time to a place where Aragorn is king, and elves and goblins roam the land. Yes, I know
The Lord of The Rings
is fictional, but, honestly, living here it’s hard to believe it. Anyway, Aragon did rule this land. Aragon as in Spain, not Aragorn as in sexy Viggo Mortensen. I’ve read up on my history, I’ll have you know. There’s nothing else to do here.

Joke.

Barney wriggles on my lap. I suppose we should set off home.

I get to my feet and turn around, clocking the lone blonde doing yoga. I feel envious. What it must be like to sit up here doing yoga with no concerns, no big secrets that could destroy a family . . . It’s so beautiful here, so inspirational.

I wonder why Christian never comes up here to write.

Johnny would . . .

I scramble over the rocks with Barney in my arms and buckle him back into his buggy. Then I set off down the steep hill towards home, trying not to think about anything.

It’s quicker on the return journey, although my arms feel like they’re being pulled out of their sockets with the weight of the buggy and gravity. I’m going to end up like Barney’s favourite Mr Men character: Mr Tickle with his ‘extraordinary long arms’.

The smile on my face suddenly feels like it’s been slapped off and I come to an abrupt stop outside a shop. Johnny’s face blazes out from multiple newspapers. I stare, sickened, at the frontpage photos of him leaving hospital.

He looks awful, pale and deathly. He’s not wearing his trademark sunglasses and it doesn’t help his appearance. I don’t imagine he had his sunglasses on when they found him.

I put my head down and push on, but the image won’t leave me. Thoughts buzz around my mind like persistent blowflies.

I wonder who did find him. Would it have been his lovely cook, Rosa? I was so fond of her – and she adored Johnny. It would have killed her to see him like that. Or perhaps it was one of his security guards. Then there was Santiago, the pool boy, who became a friend of mine. I wonder what happened to him after I left.

Barney falls asleep on the way home and I should wake him so I don’t mess up his routine, but I don’t have the energy. I park him in the hallway and slump onto the sofa in the living room, crossing my arms over my face and lying there for a while, trying to let my mind go blank. Fat chance.

Eventually I get up and go outside and around the corner to the pool. I kick off my shoes and stand on the first step, staring at the water sparkling in the hot sunshine. And then I’m back in LA again, looking down at the spectacular view of the City of Angels from Johnny’s super-cool mansion. It was my first day. Johnny was supposed to be away on a writing trip, but he turned up after I’d fallen asleep by the pool.

‘Is this what I pay you for?’ he drawled. Later he removed his black T-shirt to reveal a toned, tanned torso decorated with the occasional tattoo and I’d thought: maybe I have a crush on Johnny Jefferson, after all.

I wonder if he’s okay. I get a sudden image inside my head of me calling him to ask if he’s alright.

Crazy! I could never do that.

But I want to.

I wonder if Christian has spoken to him. I should ring him and ask.

No! You can have nothing to do with Johnny Jefferson – ever again!

I’m a mess. I can’t bear this.

I wish Bess hadn’t told me. But then I still would have seen it on the front of those newspapers today, not to mention heard it on the telly and on the radio. There’s no escaping news this huge about a star so big.

I wonder if Christian has seen him. They’ve been best friends for years. He wouldn’t have stayed away, surely. How is Christian feeling? He must be upset by all of this. I should call him. I
should
call him.

I go back inside and pick up the phone before I can talk myself out of it. Christian answers on the fourth ring.

‘Hello?’

‘It’s me.’

‘Hi.’ He sounds tired.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

‘I’m knackered,’ he replies. ‘Have you seen the news about Johnny?’

Good, I don’t have to ask. ‘Yes. Have you spoken to him?’

‘I’m at his house now.’

I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t know how to feel about it. I feel like I should be there, too. The three of us, how we used to be, when it was all platonic and I was just nice, dependable Meg.

‘It’s the same old shit, Meg. Only this time he’s got an accomplice.’

‘Have you met her?’ I ask of Dana.

‘I’ve met her in the past, yeah.’

During another visit he failed to mention. I try not to let it bother me.

‘What’s she like?’

‘Full of herself. I think she fancies the pair of them as being the next Kurt and Courtney. It’s a fucking joke. I’m sick of it!’

‘Hey . . .’ I say gently.

‘Yeah, I know, he’s my oldest friend and all that, but when’s it going to end? I’ve had it up to my eyeballs.’

‘Who are you talking to?’ I hear Johnny ask in the background and my heart jumps into my throat.

‘I’ve gotta go,’ Christian says brusquely to me. ‘I’ll call you later.’ He hangs up.

Later I text Christian, asking him to call me back when he has a chance. It’s seven o’clock the following morning before he finally does.

‘I’m off to bed,’ he tells me. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘What time is it there?’ I ask groggily. Barney is having a rare lie-in.

‘Eleven.’

I prop myself up on my pillows. ‘How’s Johnny?’ It feels strange to say his name out loud – especially to Christian.

‘He’s feeling a bit better. He’s going to go back into rehab tomorrow.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Yeah. I’m not sure if his heart is really in it, but it’s better than nothing.’

‘Is she going to go, too?’

‘Who knows? Probably. I think it’s only her manager who kept her away from him today.’

‘How’s Bill?’ Bill is Johnny’s manager.

‘He’s fine. Water off a duck’s back. You know Bill.’

Yes, I do. In fact, he probably looks upon this as good publicity. Not that Johnny needs any more publicity.

‘Who found him?’ I ask.

‘Rosa.’

Aah, so it
was
Rosa. ‘How is she?’

‘Quiet.’

‘That’s worrying,’ I comment. Rosa used to be anything but. ‘What actually happened? How did he do it?’

‘He reckons he took a dodgy “e”, but he’d mixed a few things. It could have been anything.’

‘Did she take the same drugs?’

‘Seems so.’ Christian sighs. ‘Listen, Meg, I’d better get some sleep. Johnny wants me to wake him up early if we’re going to do this rehab thing.’

‘Are you staying at his house?’ I ask in surprise. I’d assumed he’d gone back to his hotel.

‘Yep. In the gold room, as usual.’

It’s the room he always used to stay in. I remember Johnny once telling him he could have any room he wanted: ‘Except for Meg’s. Keep your hands off my staff.’

It seems like another lifetime away.

Then I’m transported again, into
my
room. My room was white, all white. The windows looked out onto green, leafy trees, and inside there was a super-king-sized bed with a pure white bedspread, floor-to-ceiling white lacquer wardrobes and an enormous en suite with dazzling white stone lining every surface . . . It was beautiful.

‘I want you to come back to LA with me as my girlfriend, Meg. Come and live with me.’

I shake my head quickly, trying to rid myself of the memory, but I can’t. Suddenly I’m looking into his piercing green eyes and he’s asking me to leave Christian and choose him instead.

It was everything I’d ever wanted – once. To be the girl that changed Johnny Jefferson’s wild-boy ways. But he’d left it too late. And now it seems that there’s no end to his downward spiral.

  Chapter 6