Strings Attached (28 page)

‘George! Wait! Listen!’ Quinn hollered after her.

She turned back to face him, her hands planted on her hips, the sun burning the back of her neck.

‘What happened in the conference room - it happens sometimes. Not usually in public, but about a couple of times a month - maybe more - I kind of just blackout,’ Quinn told her.

‘What?’

‘You wanted the truth, that’s the truth.’

‘But that isn’t right. Are they doing tests?’ George asked him.

‘Believe me, I’ve had every test there is,’ Quinn said.

‘And they can’t find the cause?’ George questioned.

‘It isn’t quite like that.’

‘Well what is it like?’

Quinn took hold of her hand and held it in his, gently stroking her fingers.

‘I had an accident. A really bad one, years
ago. I was in a coma for
months. The blackouts are to do with that,’ Quinn told her matter of factly.

‘My God, what did you do?’ George exclaimed.

‘Apparently I was riding a motorbike without a helmet and I hit a truck,’ Quinn said, looking at her.

‘Apparently?’ George queried.

‘I don’t remember,’ Quinn admitted with a shrug.

‘Is this what you’ve been trying to tell me before?’ George asked him.

‘Yeah, kind of. Lately it’s bec
ome more than the black
outs. I’ve started having these dreams, about the accident, about playing in a band, about not liking bananas. I don’t know if I like bananas for Christ’s sake! I’m too scared to eat one! And it’s freaking me out, because I’m worried that the bits about the accident and the totally shit band aren’t dreams. I think they might be memories,’ Quinn told her.

‘Would that be a bad thing? If it was memory coming back?’ George asked.

‘I don’t know, that’s half the issue. Will I be better off knowing or not knowing?’ Quinn enquired.

‘What are you afraid of?’ George asked.

‘The truth. Just like you said,’ Quinn replied, looking at her intensely.

‘Everyone needs the truth,’ George told him.

‘That’s what I think every day when I wake up and then there’s Roger with the latest big news about Brand Blake. Then there’s Taylor with her wedding entourage and all I want to think about is you and me and how much I want there to be a you and me,’ Quinn said.

‘You’re getting married in four days,’ George reminded.

‘Am I?’ Quinn replied, looking at her.

‘I think we should stop seeing each other.’

‘You want to stop it?’ Quinn asked.

‘No,’ George admitted.

‘Then why even think it? I couldn’t stop seeing you even if I wanted to. I can’t keep away from you George. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you, every minute of every day and it drives me insane because I can’t control it,’ Quinn told her, running a hand through her hair.

‘But you’re getting married,’ George repeated.

‘And you think that’s going to make a difference? You think having a ring on my finger is going to stop me wanting you?’ Quinn asked her.

‘It should,’ George replied as his fingers began to massage the nape of her neck.

‘Well I’m telling you, it won’t,’ Quinn said seriously.

‘And what if it changes things for me?’ George asked him.

‘Will it?’

‘I know what we’ve been doing isn’t right, but it becomes a whole different thing if you get married. I won’t be a mistress Quinn, not like that,’ George told him.

‘So what are you saying? If I get married you won’t see me again?’ Quinn asked, looking at her.

‘Yes,’ George replied definitely.

‘So if I want to keep seeing you, I have to call off the wedding,’ Quinn said.

‘I didn’t say that, I
...
’

‘You did say that.’

‘Quinn, this isn’t about me, it’s about you. If you love Taylor then marry her, like you were planning to do before you met me. But, if you don’t love her, don’t marry her. Because if you do, you’d be lying to her, yourself and your public,’ George tried to explain.

‘You know I don’t love her,’ Quinn spoke.

‘You say that like it doesn’t matter.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not getting married for her, I’m getting married for Roger,’ Quinn yelled, kicking at the gravel track.

He sent a foot full of shingle into the air and the dust swirled between them like a murky barrier.

George just stared at him, not knowing what to say. You didn’t get married for your record producer, unless he was a member of the Mafia and you had a price on your head. That couldn’t be what it was. That didn’t happen in real life.

‘Listen, we’d better get going. If I’m out to
o long they’ll be calling and...
’

‘I don’t understand. What hold has Roger got over you?’ George questioned as Quinn began to walk back to the Jeep.

‘It’s complicated. I’ve said way too much already.’

‘Why won’t you tell me?’ George wanted to know.

‘I can’t George, alright? I just can’t,’ Quinn exclaimed.

‘But I’m not a member of the Press Association. I’m not someone who’s going to kiss and tell to the tabloids. I’m just a caterer from Basingstoke,’ George pleaded.

‘Listen, no matter what you did, no matter who you did it with, I wouldn’t be able to let you go, marriage or no marriage,’ Quinn told her sincerely.

‘I won’t be the other woman. Not when that ring is on her finger,’ George began, swallowing a lump in her throat.

‘You won’t even give me some time? Give us a chance?’ Quinn asked as he got into the Jeep.

She didn’t reply.

‘Fine. I get it. Why waste your time on someone who’s so f**ked up he’s going to marry someone he couldn’t give a shit about,’ Quinn snapped angrily and he started up the engine.

‘Come on Quinn, that isn’t how I feel,’ George insisted.

‘No? Well how would I know? You say
I’m
holding back - what about you?’ Quinn accused.

George didn’t answer. She got into the Jeep silently and, as it pulled away, she put her hand to the chain on her neck.

Twenty Six

F**k it and f**k her! He’d told her more than he’d told anyone and it still wasn’t enough! Now suddenly she had a conscience! Now she didn’t want to be with him because he was going to have a meaningless scrap of gold on his finger. Granted the gold was the best that money could buy, but the cost didn’t matter when there was no feeling behind it. And there wasn’t, why couldn’t she see that? This wasn’t how he wanted things to go. He wanted to be with her, every second they had here. He wanted to show her Spain, play her the songs he’d written for her. There were twenty five of those and counting. He wanted to make love to her in the sand, he wanted to tell her he loved her.

He stopped pacing the villa and looked at his reflection in the patio doors. He expected to see someone different and was disappointed. He loved her. This wasn’t just about lust. It had gone way beyond that and he couldn’t let it go.

‘Hey George! You’ll never guess! Adam and me only came last in the dancing contest! Show her what we won Adam!’ Marisa exclaimed as she, Adam and Helen entered the villa.

George was on her fourth bottle of beer and second packet of paprika crisps. Quinn had dropped her a decent enough distance away from the gates of La Manga Resort and she had blown a decent amount of
E
uros on comfort food at the on-site supermarket.

‘Isn’t it great?’ Marisa said, producing a huge
,
bright red sombrero.

‘I thought sombreros were native to Mexico, but according to Juan behind the bar they all wear them in this area of Spain,’ Helen spoke with a wine induced giggle.

‘Oh Mother he was trying to chat you up! He would have said elephants were native to Spain if he thought it was going to get him a quick one out the back,’ Marisa replied.

‘He was married and so am I!’ Helen said, offended.

‘And your point is?’

‘You OK?’ Adam asked George.

‘Yeah. You know what, I’m going to go and get changed and get in the pool,’ she said, standing up and heading to the stairs.

‘What? Like now? There’s absolutely no sun out there and it’s like dark,’ Marisa commented.

Geor
ge didn’t reply, but hurried up
stairs to her room. There was the gorgeous bikini, dry, and lying on the bed waiting for her. She couldn’t wear it now, not after the row she had with Quinn. He’d been so angry, he’d driven at full speed all the way back to the golf resort and hadn’t even said goodbye when she’d left him. That wasn’t how she wanted things to end.

Dressed in her plain black swimming costume, she came back downstairs, went straight outside and jumped into the pool where she began to thrash out length after length.

‘Is she like alright?’ Marisa asked as the three of them looked out of the patio doors at George motoring up and down the pool.

‘She’s been acting weird since the briefing,’ Adam added.

‘I expect she’s just getting nervous about tomorrow, seeing the so called catering wagon, meeting the staff. It’s a big thing for Finger Food isn’t it? Lots of anticipation and the chance to show her creations to the world,’ Helen reminded them.

‘Yeah I know, but she’s totally nailed the menu and, with all those helpers, it’s going to be a piece of piss. I mean cake, a piece of cake,’ Marisa said quickly, noticing Helen’s eyebrows rising.

‘I’ll go and speak to her,’ Adam said, opening the door.

‘Perhaps she just needs to be on her own for a bit,’ Helen suggested.

‘If we leave her alone she’s going to swim the equivalent of the English Channel,’ Adam replied and he ignored Helen’s advice and stepped out onto the terrace.

‘Now
that
swimsuit is definitely Peacocks,’ Marisa remarked with a nod, looking out of the doors.

George put her head under the water and powered down the pool. She just wanted to carry on swimming until she felt better. She was in an impossible situation and she didn’t know what to do about it. She wasn’t sure she
could
do anything about it.

She came up for air at the end of the pool and noticed Adam standing at the edge, looking at her.

‘You in training or something? Think you could almost get into the Olympics if you carry on doing lengths in that sort of time,’ he remarked.

George stopped and stood up to face him. She was completely out of breath and feeling the effects of swimming under the influence of four bottles of San Miguel, plus the wine she’d had in the restaurant earlier.

He handed her a towel and she accepted it.

‘What’s up?’ he asked, offering her a hand out of the water.

‘Nothing. Just fancied a swim,’ George replied, towelling off her hair as Adam sat down at the table.

‘Yeah, OK. You’ve never been a great one for lying. Who’s pissed you off?’ Adam continued.

‘No one,’ George insisted.

‘P
ull the other one. I know your
pissed off expression when I see it and it
’
s right there, plastered all over your face.’

‘Yeah well, perhaps I don’t want to talk about it,’ George snapped back at him.

‘God! That’s what you get like when Mum’s been having a go at you. She hasn’t phoned has she?’

‘What
,
to check I haven’t left you out in the sun to fry or poisoned your dinner? I think she’s actually got too much on her own plate at the moment,’ George retorted.

‘Whoa! This is bad,’ Adam responded.

George let out a sigh and wrapped the towel around her shoulders. It was a balmy evening but she was starting to feel the cold now she had stopped swimming. However, it wasn’t just the temperature
,
she was cold on the inside too right now.

‘Look, about earlier. I shouldn’t have said what I said about Marisa,’ George admitted.

‘I said some pretty stupid things too,’ Adam said, avoiding her gaze.

‘Yeah well I was wrong to say what I said. She’s a lovely girl. I like her a lot and if you like her, then you go for it,’ George said seriously.

‘Mum doesn’t like her, she thinks she’s common,’ Adam remarked.

‘Yeah? Well that’s what she said about Paul,’ George spoke.

‘Paul?’ Adam queried.

‘Oh, a boyfriend I had when I was younger,’ George replied.