Baby Be Mine

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