Baby Be Mine

laughs. ‘Can’t I?’
    ‘No, you bloody can’t!’ Obviously he’s joking.
    ‘Come on, then. See me to my room.’
    ‘You can see yourself there. Up the stairs, down the corridor, second one to your right. I’ve got to clean up the kitchen.’
    ‘No, you don’t.’ He frowns, taking my hand again. ‘The kitchen can wait until the morning.’
    ‘What, when you get up at seven and come downstairs with your rubber gloves on?’
    ‘I might surprise you,’ he teases.
    ‘Alright, then,’ I concede as he leads me to the stairs, switching off lights as he goes. ‘I’ll have a lie-in.’
    He chuckles softly. We reach his bedroom door. ‘This is you,’ I say.
    ‘Where’s your room?’ he asks.
    ‘I’m not telling you.’
    ‘What, in case I can’t keep my hands to myself in the middle of the night?’
    ‘Exactly. Not like that hasn’t happened before,’ I reply with a knowing look. He leans against the doorframe. Butterflies flit around my stomach, the earlier sickness a distant memory.
    ‘Give me another hug,’ he says, out of the blue. I giggle as I allow him to wrap his arms around me and hold me tight. It feels so right to be this close to him. I’ve missed him. Hang on, I’ve never felt this close to him. He gives me one last squeeze and then pulls away and opens his door.
    ‘Sleep tight,’ he says with a grin.
    ‘Goodnight, Johnny Jefferson,’ I reply and turn away. He spanks my bum.
    ‘Ow!’ I squawk to the sound of his laughter as he shuts the door in my face.
    I go to bed that night feeling warm and happy and drunk with contentment. But in the middle of the night when I wake up, as I have done every night since I met that famous green-eyed rock star, my happiness turns to unease and I know that I have to be careful if I don’t want to get hurt again.

 
  Chapter 47  
    ‘Didn’t George Harrison use to live in Henley?’ Johnny asks as we pass a gated mansion. It’s Sunday, late morning, and we’re going for a walk into Henley.
    ‘I don’t know, did he?’
    ‘Yeah, you know George Harrison,’ he says facetiously. ‘Used to be in The Beatles.’
    ‘Who are The Beatles?’ I ask innocently. He smirks down at me. He’s always teasing me about my lack of taste in – and knowledge about – music. ‘I also remember that Morrissey used to be a member of The Smiths.’
    ‘Oh, well done,’ he says.
    I still recall the time when I first went to work for Johnny in LA, going outside onto the terrace to hear him singing a song by The Smiths. I asked him if it was one he’d written. He wasn’t too impressed.
    ‘How far away is this playground?’
    ‘A bit of a walk. You need the exercise,’ I tease.
    ‘MEG!’ I hear a shout as we walk along the river. There’s a small fun fair in the local park and we’re on our way to let Barney go on the carousel.
    ‘Oh, God,’ I moan under my breath. It’s one of my new friends, Liz, who I met at Barney’s weekly playgroup. Johnny stops and turns around, distracting Barney with some bread for the ducks.
    ‘Hello!’ I say as she approaches.
    ‘I thought that was you!’ she calls, with a big grin on her face. She’s with her husband, Guy, who I’ve met a couple of times, and he’s carrying their two-year-old, Sam, on his shoulders. ‘Where’s Barney?’ she asks, looking around and then spotting him. ‘Oh, there he is. Hello, Barney!’
    I realise with a sigh that there’s no escaping this. Johnny turns around and follows Barney over. The look on Liz’s face when she sees him is a picture.
    ‘This is my friend—’ I start to say.
    ‘John,’ Johnny interrupts, holding out his hand.
    ‘Oh, er, hi!’ Liz replies, taken aback, her gaze flitting between us. She’s clearly confused.
    ‘Hi, there,’ Guy says when the introductory handshake comes his way. ‘You all enjoying the sunshine?’
    ‘Oh, aye, it’s grand,’ Johnny says with a wink. Liz looks even more disconcerted.
    ‘We’re about to take Barney on the carousel,’ I tell her.
    ‘We’ve just come from there,’ she says with a smile, her eyes going up to Johnny’s again.
    This is silly. I’m going to have to tell her. But not now; next time.
    ‘Are we still going to Monkey Music on Tuesday?’ I ask casually.
    ‘Absolutely,’ she says, backing away. ‘See you then.’
    ‘We’ll be there!’
    ‘See you again,’ Guy says merrily. ‘Enjoy the weekend.’ He’s still none the wiser.
    ‘You, too!’ Johnny and I reply before turning