Three Way (26 page)

‘No, I’m good thanks mate,’ I say.

‘Please,’ he says, indicating to follow him which I do. We walk out of arrivals and I’m immediately hit by the warm air and smell of aviation fuel. Everything looks different. There are different cars, different looking people with different clothes. Jeffrey takes me to the airport car park and over to a white Mercedes E-Class with blacked out windows. We get in and drive away.

‘Did you have a pleasant flight, sir?’ Jeffrey asks.

‘Yeah, great thanks,’ I reply, ‘hope you weren’t waiting too long?’

‘Not long, sir,’ he replies. We don’t speak much more, I stare out of the window at the various types of car on the road and the people driving them. I note the dry landscape and huge township to my left as we travel to our destination. I find it all fascinating. I’ve heard so much about this place, it’s exhilarating. I half expect to see a lion or an elephant walking along the side of the motorway, instead I just see people. There are loads of makeshift vans and overloaded trucks which can’t possibly be roadworthy or legal.

Eventually we turn off the motorway and into a private estate. I stare as we drive past one massive house after another, all with ten foot high electrified fencing with signs that say things like ‘ADT – Armed Response.’ People really don’t want you to come in around here unless you’re invited. We pull up outside a gate, Jeffrey takes out a remote and presses the button. Slowly the gates open. We head along a winding driveway, surrounded by immaculate gardens, to an impressive two storey house. Large blue trees are dotted all over the estate and the house is covered in wisteria and what looks like the South African version of ivy. It’s a beautiful place. The car stops and we get out.

‘Ollie?’ a tall, handsome man wearing an open white shirt greets me. Danny Arnold. Seen him so many times on the TV. He looks different in real life, older perhaps.

‘Danny, hi. How’s it going?’ I say, shaking his hand.

‘Good, how was your flight. Everything okay?’

‘Yep, everything was great,’ I say, trying to reassure him. The money is here. I still have the money. I didn’t fuck it up.

‘Come in, come in,’ he says. ‘No bags?’

‘No, just me,’ I reply.

I follow him inside. It’s an open-plan house, the doors and windows letting in all the available air. I glimpse a swimming pool in the garden. We walk through the hallway and into the kitchen to see a woman with her back turned to me.

‘Darling, this is Ollie,’ Danny says. The woman turns round, a vague expression on her face, as if she had been a million miles away. She smiles and offers her hand which I shake.

‘Hi Ollie, I’m Martina glad you made it. Was the flight okay? It’s so long, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but I got upgraded, so it was actually pretty cool.’

‘Really, they upgraded you?’ Danny replies, eyebrows rising.

‘Yeah, not sure why. Something about being overbooked.’

‘That Jason, he knows how to manipulate the system. Would you like something to drink? Coke, orange juice? Something stronger?’ Martina asks.

‘Uh, Coke’s fine thanks,’ I say.

‘You boys go outside, I’ll bring it out,’ says Martina. We do as instructed.

The garden is bigger than I first thought. The pool goes back at least ten metres. But the most impressive thing are the big blue trees. They look like oaks except all of them have bright blue flowers.

‘What are those trees?’ I ask. ‘They’re everywhere.’ Danny glances in the direction I’m pointing.

‘The trees? Jacarandas. They look great but those flowers get in the pool and it’s a real pain in the arse,’ he replies. We walk over to a white metal table and chairs and sit down.

‘So Ollie, you have the money?’ Danny asks.

‘Yep, here you go,’ I say, pulling out the wodge and placing it in front of him. Feels like I should have bought a briefcase to go with that much money.

‘Great,’ he replies, ‘I hope you don’t think me rude but I’d better count it.’

‘Go right ahead,’ I say. So I sit and watch, while Danny counts the money. Martina brings out Cokes for everyone and sits next to Danny.

‘Is he counting it in front of you, so rude,’ she says, smiling.

‘It’s not rude, if I’m even a hundred dollars down, that comes out of my wages darling,’ Danny says. They exchange a look.

‘Don’t worry. I understand,’ I say, interjecting. Martina turns to me.

‘So Ollie, what do you do at TBN?’ she asks.

‘I’m a producer. Doing interviews, looking after court cases, that sort of thing,’ I reply. Martina nods.

‘And do you have a girlfriend?’ she asks. Danny looks up from counting.

‘Jesus Christ Martina, you can’t ask him that.’

‘I can ask him anything I want,’ she says. Awkward. I try to calm things down again.

‘I don’t mind,’ I say to Danny. ‘I did, but we split up.’

‘Ahhh,’ Martina says.

‘No it’s okay. I’ve found someone else. At least, I think I have.’

‘Not sure about her?’ Martina asks. Danny looks up from counting and sighs.

‘No I am. I am. Just, it’s new and…she’s quite different to Svetla.’

‘You still have feelings for your ex?’ Martina asks.

‘Darling, maybe Ollie doesn’t want to talk about this stuff,’ Danny says with forced politeness.

‘No it’s fine, really. We were together for a couple of years and maybe I just need to let go but...’

‘A heartbreaker?’ Martina asks. I nod slowly.

‘Yeah. But then, maybe I broke hers? So I guess we’re even,’ I reply. I opt not to start talking about Rupert Gilbert, whoever he is. Not going to think about him, he’ll only spoil my trip to South Africa but when I get home-

‘And what about this new girl?’

‘Lauren? She’s great. She’s better than great. Yeah. She’s really pretty.’

‘Nice tits?’ Danny asks. I smile.

‘Daniel Arnold,’ Martina says, frowning. Danny chuckles. I laugh.

‘Yeah,’ I say.

‘Just have to get used to her not being your ex-girlfriend, right Ollie?’ she says. I look at Martina. Something about her looks tired and yet this line of questioning seems to have engaged her.

‘Right, I guess,’ I say.

‘Sometimes you can spend your entire life searching for someone who’s right in front of you. Except you don’t realise they’re even there because they don’t match what you think you were looking for. That’s how it was with Danny and me. I was his producer, setting up his interviews, doing his interviews, writing his scripts-’

‘You rarely wrote my scripts,’ Danny says.

‘Okay darling,’ she then mouths me to me, ‘I did.’ I smile. ‘What I’m saying is, you’ve got to look at what’s in front of you, not what’s behind you. Because you could be missing out on the best thing that ever happened to you and you wouldn’t even know it because you were too busy looking the other way.’ I nod slowly. ‘Although fifteen years later, let me tell you it does lose a certain degree of its romance.’

‘Thanks for that,’ Danny says.

‘Well, he’s always off somewhere or other. I’m stuck here being housewife. It’s funny, how you imagine things will end up and how they actually do.’ Danny clears his throat, they exchange a look.

‘Let’s not do this now, huh?’ he says.

‘Whatever you want. Darling,’ she says. The tension is uncomfortable.

‘Shame I can’t stay longer. Would have loved to see more of South Africa,’ I say.

‘It is a shame. I could have taken you out to a friend’s farm. He’s got all the Big Five there and some black rhino as well,’ Martina says.

‘Big Five?’

‘Elephant, lion, buffalo, rhino, leopard,’ she replies.

‘Maybe he should call London,’ Danny says, turning to me, ‘check in, you know?’ I nod.

‘Yeah, maybe I should,’ I say, unsure exactly what I’m supposed to do, given this is my first ever foreign trip.

‘You can use the phone inside, I’ll show you,’ says Martina. I follow Martina into the living room and over to the phone. There are paintings of lions and elephants. There are also strange African statuettes dotted around the room. ‘Why don’t you call this girl?’

‘Nah, couldn’t use your phone-’

‘Don’t be silly, TBN pick up the bill anyway. Go on, call her, I bet she’d love to hear from you, time difference is the same as London too,’ she says. I nod. Why not, what harm could it do?

‘Okay, thanks.’

‘If you need anything, just shout,’ she says, walking out. I dial the foreign desk number and check in with Robert, the foreign editor. He speaks with a posh accent, you’d never guess he was born in Peckham. He seems surprised I’m calling.

‘I thought you were coming straight back,’ he says.

‘I am, just…Danny said-’

‘I’ve got an earthquake in New Zealand, three British soldiers dead in Afghanistan and a G20 meeting. I’m hoping you can make the flight on your own,’ Robert says. Jesus. Alright, no need to be an arsehole about it.

‘Okay, yeah…sorry. See you later.’

‘Yeah,’ he replies, hanging up. What a cock. I shake my head and dial Lauren’s number.

‘Hello?’

‘Lauren, it’s Ollie.’

‘Oh hi, Ollie I’m just in a meeting, can I call you back?’ she whispers.

‘Uh, yeah. Well no, I’m sort of at the reporter’s house.’

‘What about your mobile?’

‘Not sure I can receive the calls, you can try.’

‘Okay, you get there okay?’

‘Yeah. Hey, if I don’t speak to you, I’m…thinking about you,’ I say.

‘Me too, speak soon. Bye,’ she says. Probably the two most unsuccessful back-to-back phone calls I’ve ever made. Then a name pings back into my memory. Rupert Gilbert.

Saturday. My flight touches down at Heathrow at six in the morning. I spend the entire flight pondering two things. Martina’s advice and the state of her relationship with Danny after being together so long and what I’m going to do about Rupert ‘fucktard’ Gilbert.

If I really do want to heed what Martina said I should just leave Mr. Gilbert and Svetla to it and let them be happy. I shouldn’t make Parker feel bad about being friends with a shitkicking bumclot like him or for being in touch with my ex behind my back. I should just let it all wash over me. I have a wonderful new girlfriend. There’s no need to continue pining over Svetla. And yet…I want to know. I want to know why Parker is friends with this guy? How does he know him, how does Svetla? I want answers and I’ll explode if I don’t find out.

I accidently (on purpose) bang the door shut when I get in. It’s 09:25 A.M. Both the living room and Parker’s doors are closed. All is quiet. I walk down the hallway and into my room, listening for any signs of life. I sit down on the bed and run a hand through my hair, breathing out slowly. Then I head into the kitchen to make coffee. I wait as the kettle boils, my mind playing over what I’m going to say when Parker shows himself. I glance out of the window, mostly blue skies with a few clouds dotted around, should be a nice day. Do I need to do this? Couldn’t I just rise above it all, like Martina said? Maybe I could try, maybe I could just see how-

I hear Parker’s door open. I wait, almost counting the steps until he appears at the door.

‘You ever heard of entering quietly?’ he says. He’s wearing boxers and a T-shirt and let me tell you ladies and gentlemen, it is not a pretty sight. He looks like a fat Jesus, except without the beard or street-cred. I say nothing, trying to gather the words. He apparently doesn’t find this strange, or he’s still half asleep. He walks over and pulls the milk out of the fridge.

‘You making coffee?’ he asks, yawning.

‘No, I’m inflating a bouncy castle,’ I reply. He opens the cupboard and pulls out another mug.

‘Why is there always a sarcastic reply to that question? A simple yes would have sufficed. Two sugars, please,’ he says.

‘I’ve been living with you for two years, I know how many sugars you have,’ I reply. My tone is mildly threatening and judging by the way his eyes dart left and right, he seems to be processing that.

‘Everything go okay in South Africa?’ he asks.