Laura's Big Break (10 page)

Charlie didn’t care. The sheer fabric pulled taut around her behind as she pedalled in front of him. He could live with being immature any day.

Laura’s head hurt. She was dressed in a transparent mu mu, riding a bike built for a giant with The Neanderthal staring at her backside. Oh yeah, her head hurt all right. On top of that she was practising deep denial over what had happened in the early hours of the morning. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. That was always the problem, there was something about him that sucked out her common sense and made her do rash things. Things she would regret later. She thought she’d learnt from her encounter with him years earlier, but she hadn’t. He was everything she wasn’t – he oozed sex appeal, he looked like he fell out of a poster for underwear and he was so free and easy with his life. When he wasn’t making her act irresponsibly, he was making her feel bad because she didn’t! The sooner she was away from him the better.

She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder; he spotted it and winked at her making her wobble on her bike. He had on an old pair of grey shorts and his favourite U2 t-shirt, his toffee coloured hair was dishevelled and he had a day’s worth of stubble. He was freaking Adonis. She had no doubt that there were women out there who would worship at the feet of him, if they had a chance. Dangerous. He was dangerous. He was the only person who had ever managed to get her to do something spontaneous, to do something out of her comfort zone. He was the only man who had ever made her lose control. Unfortunately, he was still the only man who could do it. And she didn’t need that. Not again. Never again. She needed an interview. That was all she wanted from Charlie Lewis. She peeked over her shoulder again. His smile made her catch her breath and her cheeks flush. She stared back at the road in front of her. Yep, she lied to herself; all she wanted from the Neanderthal was an interview to save her career.

They sat at the water’s edge with the canal behind them, looking down from the dyke and over the town. The sun was high in the sky as a ferry passed behind them.

“I like the crooked houses, do you think they worry that they might fall over?” she asked before biting into her apple.

For an impromptu picnic it was pretty good. There was even a box from the local Dutch bakery that was winking at her. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t open it until she’d eaten the healthy stuff first. Well, most of it. The box sparkled in the sun. Well,
some
of it.

“Holland was reclaimed from the sea,” he said. “Most of it would be underwater if it wasn’t for the dykes. It takes some serious engineering to build here, the ground is basically sodden.” He pointed at the grid of smaller canals running through the town, there seemed to be one at the end of every garden. “That’s why there are so many canals, there has to be a way to control the water and get it to the places they need it to be, otherwise there wouldn’t be any towns. It’s also why the houses are wonky, the foundations are basically in swamp. Engineering stops that from happening now. The Dutch are great at engineering.”

She gaped at him.

“How the heck do you know all that?”

One pastry, then she’d have a salad sandwich, seriously who would it hurt? She was doing more exercise than she had ever done in her lifetime. That was using calories right? In fact she was probably in negative energy; she probably needed the cakes just to have energy to function on a basic level. Yep, she needed the cake more than the vitamins.

Charlie pushed the box of cakes towards her.

“Laura, just eat the cake. Watching you think about it is giving me a headache. And for your information, I read. What did you think I did during down time in Afghanistan?”

“Internet porn?”

His lips twitched as she opened the pastry box with a deep sigh. Bliss. There was a small round cake, shaped like a chunky tube with chopped hazelnuts around the outside and cream on top, she took a big bite. Yum, dacquoise, it was a favourite of hers. There was a hint of coffee in the cream. Delicious.

Charlie cleared his throat making her open her eyes. He swallowed hard before reaching for his water bottle.

“Maddie said you had a thing for cake,” his voice seemed strained. “She said you bake now.”

He was talking about her? Well that was news. She nodded through a mouthful of hazelnut bliss.

“When we were poor students we couldn’t afford treats so we got baking books from the library. Maddie was more into the eating than making, but I enjoy it. It’s relaxing.”

“You don’t look like you eat a lot of cake,” he said eyeing her figure through the bloody horrible mu mu.

“Is that your way of telling me that I look okay, or that I’m not fat yet?”

He looked briefly confused.

“You have a sexy body, Laura,” he said seriously.

Her cheeks burned.

“Don’t be stupid, I look like a kid. I can still buy jeans in the children’s section of some shops.”

“Slender, curved in all the right places, smooth skin. What’s not to like?”

Laura didn’t know what to say. She felt exposed. From the look on Charlie’s face he regretted talking too. His phone rang and he pounced on it with obvious relief. Laura picked up a strawberry tart and took a bite. Sexy? Her? He’d obviously been in an all-male environment far too long. It had messed with his head.

“It’s for you,” he said as he thrust the phone at her.

She frowned, wiped her fingers on the mu mu and reached for it thinking it was her boss looking for an update. She was the only one Laura had given the number to since her phone drowned.

“Hello, Laura here,” she said hesitantly.

“Laura darling, you have been so hard to track down. I had to get your number from Maddie’s mother of all people. She said you were on holiday with Charlie. Charlie? I thought she was losing her mind, but here you are answering his phone.”

Her heart sank as her shoulders slumped.

“Mother,” she said in monotone.

“Well who else would it be?” her mother shrieked in her ear. Her mother never spoke, only shrieked, signalling to everyone within hearing distance that she was ‘dramatic, darling’.

“Apart from your father and Maddie, who else would call you?”

“No one, I guess. What do you want, Mum?”

“Now what makes you think that I want anything?”

There was a beat of silence. Laura didn’t play along. Her mother only ever called if she wanted something and they both knew it. She could almost see her pouting on the other end of the line. Her dyed blond hair styled into the latest fashion, her ample curves poured into something slightly too small and way too sexy. At last her mother caved, as Laura knew she would, and sighed heavily.

“It’s your father,” she said in that high pitched voice Laura had prayed she wouldn’t inherit. “He won’t let me into the house. He says he’s had enough and that I need to find somewhere else to live.”

Laura pinched the bridge of her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut. Here it goes again, she thought. Her role in life, referee for her parents.

“I’m sure it will pass,” she said evenly, “it always does.”

“Laura.” Even her mother’s tone pouted. “You make it sound like this happens often. Really, you shouldn’t imply such things.”

That was a fight she wasn’t going to get into.

“Go to one of your friends, it will blow over in a couple of days and he’ll come looking for you.”

“He threw my clothes onto the lawn.”

Well that was new, he hadn’t done that before.

“You need to talk to him. He won’t take my calls.”

“Mum.” Laura felt bone weary, years older than the twenty nine she had legal claim to. “This is between you and Dad. You need to sort it out yourselves.”

Like that was ever going to happen.

“Please, pretty please,” her mother whined. “You know I can’t live without him.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her mother if that was the case then she should stop sleeping with other men. She’d tried it once when she was a teenager, the tantrum was huge and Laura decided the fallout wasn’t worth the effort. She had long ago come to terms with the fact her parents had a highly dysfunctional relationship.

“Mum, I’m in Holland.”

“I know, with that idiot boy.”

Laura ground her teeth.

“Honestly Laura, if you want a man I can find you someone far better than Charlie Lewis.”

“No,” Laura snapped. The last thing she wanted was for her mother to set her up with anyone, ever.

She looked over to where Charlie was standing, hands in pockets looking out over the water. He was listening to every word. She didn’t know why that should make her feel embarrassed; it wasn’t anything the whole street hadn’t heard when she was growing up. Still, she turned away from him in a vain attempt at gaining more privacy.

“Really,” her mother sounded thrilled with herself, “I know the most delightful young man. Another actor, in the West End.”

She made it sound like he was saving the planet.

“No,” Laura almost shouted. “I don’t want, or need, you to set me up with anyone. Okay?”

There was silence. Laura knew from experience that there was only one way to get her mother to drop the latest whim that popped into her mind: change the topic to her favourite subject – herself.

“Look, I’ll call Dad okay. I’ll see what I can do, but he probably won’t listen to me this time. So don’t get your hopes up.”

Her mother squealed in her ear.

“Wonderful, darling, I knew I could count on you. You always were so capable at sorting these things out. You are so sensible dear. I’m sure you’ll make him see reason.”

Her mother hung up without so much as a goodbye or a thank you. Laura closed the phone and stared at her lap. Two deep breaths and she flicked it open to dial her father.

“You don’t have to do that you know,” Charlie said beside her. He sounded tense.

“No, I don’t.”

She punched in the number.

“Let them sort out their own mess,” he said.

Easier said than done. That would mean dumping a lifetime of training. Hadn’t she been born for this task – mediator in the war of the Prentices?

Charlie crouched beside her as the phone rang. He placed a hand on hers, stopping her from taking the phone to her ear.

“Seriously Laura. This isn’t your responsibility.”

She stared into his deep blue eyes and felt an ache inside.

“Isn’t it?” she said.

“Hello, hello, who is this?” her father said from her lap.

“Let it go,” Charlie said. “They’re adults.”

It was very simple for Charlie. But he wasn’t the one who had to deal with them.

“They are also my family,” Laura said feeling pathetic at the thought. “The only one I have.”

He shook his head slightly.

“I’m hanging up,” her father threatened.

Laura put the phone to her ear.

“Hi Dad,” she said. “Mum called.”

Charlie walked away.

CHAPTER SIX

“We’re going on a detour,” Charlie announced two days later.

“I wasn’t aware we were following a route in the first place.”

He grinned down at her, perfect white teeth sparkling in the sun.

“Ye of little faith,” he said.

“In you, yeah.”

Charlie plopped on the grass beside her. Over the past few days they had relaxed into an easy routine. Cycle all day, set up camp at night, have dinner in a pub, then go to sleep – in separate tents. Something had changed. Charlie wasn’t flirting with every woman that crossed his path; instead he was spending time with her. He teased her and talked to her, sometimes she even thought he was flirting with her. It boggled her mind. And, much to her amazement, she was enjoying every minute of it.

“Well.” He nudged her with his elbow making her drop the romance novel she was reading. “Aren’t you curious, don’t you want to know what we’re doing?”

“Uh, no.”

She grinned at his downcast face, sometimes it was like squishing the exuberance of a toddler on a sugar high.

“Fine.” She made a dramatic sigh that her mother would have been proud of. “What are we doing today Charlie?”

“That’s more like it.”

He raked around in his back pocket and came out with a brochure.

“I’ll give you a clue; we’re half an hour from Edam.”

His sense of fun was contagious and she smiled in spite of herself.

“We’re making cheese?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Would I be that obvious?”

“We’re not going on a boat are we?” She tried not to sound as panicked as she felt.

“No, no boat.”

“Something to do with clogs?”

She was running out of options.

“Hopeless,” he said cheerfully. “We’re doing a cooking class.”

He thrust the leaflet at her.

“We’re going to learn to make authentic Dutch apple tart.”