Baby Be Mine (49 page)

‘It’s been a long time,’ Johnny says warmly. ‘Hi.’ He reaches over and shakes Luis’s hand. ‘I’m a big fan of yours.’

‘Thanks,’ Luis replies with a grin. ‘Saw your hill-climb earlier. Nice work.’

‘I’m Meg,’ I say to Paola as Johnny and Luis talk cars.

‘Hello,’ she replies, shaking my hand. ‘I know that, of course.’

‘And of course I know who you are.’ We smile at each other and something passes between us. An understanding.

‘I helped you on the stairs!’ Luis interrupts with sudden realisation.

‘You did.’ I laugh.

‘Where’s your little boy?’ he asks loudly as fireworks start to explode over our heads.

‘At the hotel, with a babysitter.’

Johnny folds his arms. ‘My son,’ he shouts at Paola.

‘I know,’ she shouts back with a raised eyebrow.

Johnny reaches out and rubs the small of my back. I notice Luis does the same thing to Paola. Both of our men comforting us under strange circumstances.

‘We should go back and join the others,’ Luis says to Paola. ‘I don’t think we’ll be having a late one,’ he tells us.

‘British Grand Prix next week.’ Paola nods at Luis: ‘Needs his R&R.’

‘Good luck, mate,’ Johnny says as they shake hands again.

‘Thanks. Looking forward to hearing the new album.’

‘Bye,’ I say to Paola.

‘Bye.’ She smiles at me and they turn away. I watch them for a few seconds until Luis kisses her temple and then I turn back to Johnny.

‘She’s happy,’ he notes. ‘I’m glad for her.’

Maybe I should feel jealous, but I don’t.

‘Are you alright?’ he asks in my ear as glittering explosions light up the sky over our heads.

‘Yes. I’m fine.’ We stare at each other for a long moment. He reaches across and strokes my cheek with his thumb.

‘People will talk,’ I say as the pyrotechnics come to an end.

‘So?’

I shake my head and look away. ‘I don’t think I can go there again.’

‘Why not?’ He looks hurt.

‘How long is it going to be before you get bored and need to . . . I don’t know, add another notch to your belt?’ I glance up at him unhappily.

He gives me a hard look. ‘Without wanting to sound crass, I’ve been there and done that. I don’t need to do it again.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I know. I don’t need anyone else. I was too fucked-up to admit that to myself, but it’s true.’

I smile a small smile. ‘You’ve really got to stop swearing.’

‘Fuck off,’ he says with a grin and kisses me right on the lips. I start with surprise. He pulls away and stares straight at me. ‘You know I’m far from perfect. And I know that, too. But all that shit . . . all that stuff . . . It’s in the past. I don’t want to be that person anymore.’

‘Hey, Johnny!’

We both turn to see Scott, the lead singer from Contour Lines, walking towards us.

‘Alright, mate, how’s it going?’ Johnny says, shaking his hand and patting his back. ‘Aren’t you guys on stage soon?’

‘Yeah, man, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,’ Scott replies, glancing at me.

‘This is Meg.’ Johnny puts his arm around my shoulders.

‘Hi,’ I say, feeling awkward. Maybe Christian never mentioned me, but they spent so much time together . . . Scott won’t think much of me if he knows. ‘I’m going to nip to the ladies’,’ I say, hurrying away.

I stand in front of one of the basins and look in the mirror. My face is flushed and I run my hands under the cold-water tap and then press them to my cheeks. I can hear the band has started to play in the marquee. I walk back out into the throng, but Johnny is nowhere to be seen.

‘Excuse me, Meg?’ A female roadie appears in front of me. She’s dressed all in black and is wearing an earpiece.

‘Yes?’ I ask, confused.

‘Johnny’s agreed to do a number.’ She indicates the stage where Contour Lines are playing their latest single. ‘Can you come with me?’ I nod and follow her through the crowd to the backstage area. We climb the stairs and she leaves me in the darkness. I feel a hand on my back and spin around to see Johnny.

‘Do you mind?’ he shouts in my ear as a soundman hooks up an amp to an electric guitar and hands it over.

I shake my head and smile at him as he puts the guitar strap over his head. He swings the instrument behind him so the strap is pulled tight against his chest. I have a sudden desire to put my hands on his hips, but then Scott introduces a ‘special guest’ and Johnny raises his eyebrows at me before striding out on stage.

I still remember the first time I saw him play a stadium, the sound of eighty thousand people chanting and banging like tribal warriors before the concert had even started. When he launched into one of his greatest hits, the crowd roared . . . I’ll never forget the sight of tens of thousands of people jumping up and down as one. Of course, here and now there are fewer than one and a half thousand, but they still go absolutely bonkers as he steps up close to the mic and speaks into it.

‘I wrote this song for the love of my life. The mother of my son. She’s here tonight.’ He looks backstage at me, and I stand stock-still in shock as he starts to sing my song. His voice fills up the marquee, deep and soulful as he closes his eyes, and when he turns and stares at me again, I feel like he’s piercing my soul.

I don’t have the strength to resist him anymore. I know I have to let go and give in, even if it ruins me. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t give it a try. I’d just be a shadow of myself, never truly knowing happiness, only pain.

He comes off stage to stupendous applause and then his hands are cupping my face and he’s kissing me. I kiss him back, passionately, as the world around me spins. He pulls away, but it’s me who speaks first.

‘Let’s go.’

We practically run to the car together, hand in hand, as I try not to giggle. He revs up the engine and screeches out of the car park.

‘Slow down or Lord March won’t invite you back next year,’ I squeal, but he just laughs.

I’m full of butterflies during the entire journey. Neither of us says a word, but the anticipation doesn’t die. I follow him to his room and he unlocks the door. The babysitter is right across the hall, but we’re back early; we have time. He shuts the door behind me and then he just stares at me. Is he going to kiss me or what? I stare back at him, warily, wondering why he’s not sweeping me off my feet; because I’m a goner, I haven’t the will to resist him anymore.

I cock my head to one side in confusion. There’s a strange look in his eyes. Has he changed his mind? Oh, God, has he?

He gets down on one knee and takes my hand. My jaw hits the floor.

‘I love you,’ he says as tears fill my eyes. ‘I never want to be without you. I never want to spend another day, another minute, without you and Barney by my side. I’ve been thinking about doing this for a long, long time. Meg Stiles . . .’

I cover my mouth with my hand and laugh tearfully.

‘Will you marry me?’

I nod down at him.

‘Yes?’ he checks.

‘Yes.’

Then he’s on his feet and I’m in his arms and he’s holding me so tight, and I never want him to let me go. He pulls away and looks down at me and then he’s kissing me passionately and I’m melting into him and tears are running down my cheeks as I realise that this is it.
I
was the one to change him. He fell for
me.
He loves
me.
And I love him right back. I’ll love him till the day I die.

  Epilogue  

It’s not George Harrison’s former house, but we do live in Henley in an enormous gated rock-star mansion. I couldn’t go back to LA. That house – that city – had too many bad memories, and, God knows, we needed a fresh start.

I was terrified about the press’s reaction to our relationship, but they’ve astounded me. Hilariously, I’ve been painted as some sort of angel: Johnny’s saviour. It appears that even the bloodthirsty media love a happy ending: the ordinary girl who hooked one of the most famous men in the world. Poor Dana, though. She’s still the devil’s spawn. But she has resilience – she’ll bounce back, I’m quite sure of it.

I still feel guilty about Johnny’s staff losing their jobs, especially Santiago, who has finally got a computer and emails me occasionally with the latest Hollywood gossip. But Johnny wrote everyone excellent references and gave them fantastic severance pay, so they’ll be okay.

Johnny still doesn’t have a PA. At the moment I’m handling things, and the first job on my list was to set him up with a proper fan club. I figure I’ve seen enough freaky letters to last me a lifetime.

Lena took a placement with Rod Freemantle, believe it or not. She’s worked for him for three months now, which is longer than any of his PAs lasted after Kitty. I think he’s still mourning her. It’s a shame there wasn’t any sexual chemistry between them, because they were perfect for each other. Rod split up with his fifth wife and will no doubt be onto his sixth soon. I think he’s trying to break some sort of record.

As for Kitty, the last I heard from her she was travelling around Thailand with a couple of hot American boys. She sounds like she’s having a whale of a time. I hope she drops in on us again soon.

Bess is the same as ever. She had another drunken snog with Eddie at our wedding. Did I forget to mention that Eddie came with us? He’s our full-time cook and he really does make the best chocolate-chip cookies I’ve ever tasted.

Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. Wedding. That’s right! We actually did tie the knot. We got married at a local church before coming back here to the house for the reception. All of Johnny’s former staff flew over for the ceremony, including dear Rosa. It was so good to see her again, and for Johnny it was particularly therapeutic. In fact, I think it was quite therapeutic for her, too. Kitty also put aside her backpack to join us for a few days, and even Liz and Guy came along. Liz nearly fell off her chair when I finally came clean about Johnny. It’s been a relief to have everything out in the open.

Christian and Sara were invited, although sadly they had other plans that weekend. Perhaps it was a bit too much, too soon. But Christian’s Contour Lines biography was a huge success and he’s writing his third crime book at the moment, so he’s in a good place, all in all.

Johnny and I got married in December and it snowed. The whole place was lit up with fairy lights and candles and it truly was magical. I always used to dream of a summer wedding, but I wanted to get married before I started to show. That’s another thing I forgot to mention. I’m pregnant. Again. But this time there’s no uncertainty, no hurt or pain or fear. Only love. Love, love, love. Just like The Beatles said – and yes, I do know who they are – that’s all you need.

  Acknowledgements