Baby Be Mine

give him a cuddle, immediately feeling the dampness of his swimming trunks seeping through my khaki-coloured T-shirt and white shorts. I’ve dressed casually today; I don’t want to look like I’ve made an effort for Mr Celebrity.
    Christian stands up and drops the towel onto a sunlounger. I know that he’s struggling to remain calm. If looks could kill, his former best friend would be on his way to the coroner right about now.
    Barney presses his cold, wet nose to mine and I can’t help but smile, despite the tension surrounding us.
    I give Christian a supportive nod and then turn to look at Johnny. He’s staring at Barney with a strange expression on his face. I don’t know how to describe it: a sort of awe and awkwardness all rolled into one. He can’t take his eyes off him.
    ‘Barney, this is Johnny,’ I introduce them for want of something else to say.
    ‘Hello,’ Johnny says quietly and he reaches out and takes Barney’s hand, shaking it slightly.
    ‘You’ve got a fucking nerve,’ Christian growls from behind me. I spin around, the action wrenching Johnny’s grasp from Barney’s hand. Christian’s whole body is rigid and he’s breathing heavily. He’s close to losing it.
    ‘Calm down,’ I urge nervously. ‘Shall we all go inside?’
    ‘No,’ Christian says bitterly. ‘I like it out here.’ He sits on the end of a sunlounger and eyes Johnny up and down in his long-sleeved shirt and black jeans. He knows that his enemy will be uncomfortable in this heat, on top of everything else.
    ‘Take a seat,’ I tell Johnny in a strained voice, and then I pass Barney to Christian and unwind the awning so at least we’re not sitting in full sun.
    Barney starts babbling and Christian manages a half-hearted smile at him.
    ‘How’s your hotel?’ I ask Johnny, trying to make small talk.
    ‘Yeah, it’s fine,’ he replies, his eyes on my son.
    He’s distracted. I’ve seen him distracted before, but not like this. This is weird. It’s one of the weirdest things I’ve ever seen. He’s not the cool, confident rock star that everyone knows; he’s just a guy.
    He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his head still turned towards Barney. Christian gets to his feet abruptly and takes Barney with him. He sits on the top step of the pool, with his back to us and Barney on his lap. Johnny and I meet each other’s eyes and his lips turn down momentarily. He gives me a small shrug.
    ‘Christian, shall we go out somewhere?’ I ask. ‘Shall we go for a walk into Cucugnan?’ He doesn’t reply. ‘Christian?’ I prompt.
    ‘I’m happy here,’ he says gruffly.
    ‘Do you want to get some writing done or something while we go?’
    Slowly, determinedly, he turns around and gives me a look of such pure hatred that my blood runs cold.
    ‘I. Don’t. Fucking. Think. So.’
    ‘Christian . . .’ I plead.
    Johnny interrupts us. ‘Maybe I should go.’
    I take a deep breath. ‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘That’s probably enough for today.’
    He gets to his feet.
    ‘I’ll see you out.’ I glance at Christian, but he has his back to us again. Neither he nor Johnny says anything as I lead the way out through the screeching pool gate.
    Johnny follows me back indoors to get his bike stuff.
    ‘I’m sorry about that,’ I say as he puts his leather jacket back on.
    He shakes his head and pulls on his gloves. ‘Could have been worse.’ He stops suddenly and stares ahead as though in a daze, then seems to snap out of it. ‘Can I come back tomorrow?’ He picks up his helmet and moves towards the door.
    ‘Sure, of course.’ I offer him a small smile. ‘Hopefully it will be better. I’ll talk to Christian toni—’
    ‘Don’t,’ he interrupts. ‘It’s okay. I can handle it.’
    I open the door and he steps over the threshold. ‘I still think it would help if you apologised,’ I suggest.
    ‘See you tomorrow, Meg.’ He gives me a final look and jogs down the steps.
    I’m reluctant to go back out to the pool again because I know the mood that will be waiting for me there, but I force myself to.
    ‘Are you okay?’ I ask.
    ‘Take Barney,’ Christian says, getting up and handing my son to me. I look at him in surprise, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. I follow him back indoors, the sickness and dread kicking up a notch. He goes straight into the bedroom and angrily drags a T-shirt over his head.
    ‘Where are you going?’ I ask nervously as he exchanges his swimming trunks for