Coconuts and Wonderbras (16 page)

Read Coconuts and Wonderbras Online

Authors: Lynda Renham

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction, #General

BOOK: Coconuts and Wonderbras
11.96Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Is it what I want? I try to picture my future if I do marry Toby. I’ll eventually be surrounded by bellowing children. Toby once said he wanted four. I’ll have to give up work, which means we’ll have to buy a fairly cheap house in the worst part of Fross. The children will spend their days charging around the house, and it will be a full-scale military operation just to go to the shops. I will be the haggard wife while Toby is the about-town journalist. I’ll be so knackered that I’ll hit the sack by eight. As for sex, well, come to think about it I don’t suppose it could be any worse than it is now. The highlight of my life will be a Chinese takeaway on a Saturday night. After this vision of my future, I decide to stay. This may be the only excitement I ever get in my life.

So Alex teaches me the safety codes as we drift aimlessly along in the cool water with the sun beating down on us.

 

What a lot of bollocks the codes are. It’s a bit like an in-flight safety video. Everyone watches it but let’s face it, who remembers it when the plane is about to crash? I have to remember that the code for ‘
I have a problem’
is ‘
It’s raining cats and dogs
’. I’m really going to remember that aren’t I? If Alex should ask me ‘
Are we friends?
’ what he really means is ‘
Am I in danger?
’ Clear as day isn’t it? I have to remember to answer
yes
if I am okay and
no
if I am not. That to me is as back to front as anything could be. I didn’t dare argue though. He was really quite intense when teaching me and I have to say he looks very appealing when intense. The most important one is ‘
Are you hurt?
’ Which in code is ‘
Can I get you something?
’ If I am perfectly fine I have to request
tampons
. If I am in dire straits I have to request
toothpaste
. You really have to wonder how he came up with this crap. I’ll know he is coming to help me when he tells me he will
pick up a takeaway on the way home
. After an hour he considers I know the codes well enough and refuses to let me write them down.

    ‘You have to memorise them,’ he insists firmly.

As if I am ever going to have a need for them. He was so animated teaching me the codes that he has relaxed his grip on the paddle and is allowing the boat to drift happily in the current. The views are fantastic and I am finally relaxing. My headache has eased and all I need is a drink for everything to be perfect. Jamie has protested quite strongly, and I don’t blame him, that he gave me the correct address for the hotel and has no idea why the driver took us to the village. I attempt to look surprised. I really must own up soon but there never seems to be a right time. Either Bryant is too nice and I don’t want to spoil it, or he is being really horrid and I don’t want to make things worse. It is becoming tricky, very tricky.

The only thing on my mind right now is my thirst and I voice my desire unwittingly. Without a word he steers the boat to the bank and climbs out. I watch mesmerised as he cuts a coconut from a tree followed by several bananas. Smiling, he throws them at me before climbing back into the boat.

    ‘By your face I’m presuming not something Toby would do then?’

    ‘He’d hope to buy a bottle of Perrier from a nearby stall,’ I say, trying not to smile, while feeling quite bad for mocking Toby.

He grins and points the penknife at the coconut.

    ‘For my next trick…’ he continues, raising his eyebrows at me.

Good Lord, he actually does have a sense of humour.

    ‘You will slice through the coconut with your penknife?’

He opens the rucksack with a flourish.

    ‘That is not a knife.’ He mimics an Australian accent. ‘This… is a knife.’ And with a flick of his wrist produces a large knife and slashes into the coconut, which he then hands me to drink. I stare at it fussily and after seeing him raise his eyebrows, I lift the rough hairy shell to my lips and drink. The milk is cool and refreshing.

    ‘What would Penelope do then?’ I ask hesitantly.

He peels a banana and hands one to me.

    ‘She wouldn’t climb from a boat and cut down a coconut if that’s what you mean and I would have to fashion a cup out of something. She would never drink straight from the coconut, there might be germs.’

I wrinkle my nose at the coconut shell.

    ‘You’re doing well, don’t spoil it,’ he reprimands.

    ‘I don’t need your compliments,’ I snap.

Obviously I can’t help wondering why someone like him, with such an adventurous spirit, should be engaged to someone as prim and proper as Penelope. They are as different as chalk and cheese. At least they seem it, but of course, I could be wrong. He points to the view. An occasional palm tree gives some relief from the burning sun but not enough. So, when he pulls suntan lotion from what is becoming his very own Mary Poppins rucksack, I sigh with relief. I don’t remember ever being anywhere this hot before and I don’t have a change of clothing. I let my hand drop into the cool water. It’s rather nice being with someone who takes control. I gently rub the lotion onto my arms. It will be so lovely to get to the hotel to have a shower and don some fresh clothes.

    ‘I’ve arranged for our luggage to be taken to the hotel. It is probably there already,’ he says, seemingly reading my mind.

His voice is crisp and clear. I can see why mother likes him. He has all the essential boyfriend qualities according to my mother.

    ‘We just want you to be with someone suitable darling. Toby is nice enough but a little rough-spoken don’t you think?’
she had commented dryly on meeting Toby
. ‘Do you not think a military man is more suitable with your education and what not?’

I mean, seriously, who wants a military man for a husband? It’s bad enough having an ex-military man for a father without one for a husband too. As for school, a fat lot of good that did me. The only thing I excelled in was knots. I seriously did. I can tie a good reef knot blindfolded and my half hitch is something to be envied. I was a top Girl Guide and still know the alphabet in semaphore. Apart from that I am plain useless. Be prepared may have been the Girl Guide’s motto but being prepared was something I left behind with Brown Owl. I jump as Alex leans towards me and gently takes the suntan lotion. Before I can protest, he has turned me around and is gently smoothing the cream over my back. His hands are cool and I feel myself shiver under his touch.
To think Blancmange gets this all the time. Good God, what is happening down in my loins? This is terrible. He is only stroking the top of my back, but oh, the way he is stroking, it is far too sensual for my liking. I must pull myself together. He is just applying suntan lotion. I must not make a fool of myself. What would Blancmange think if she could see her fiancé now?

    ‘Why don’t you wear a ring?’ he asks in a matter of fact voice.

    ‘What?’ My voice sounds all strangled and hoarse.

    ‘Why don’t you wear an engagement ring? At the Christmas party you told me you and Toby were engaged.’ His deep blue eyes bore into mine.

Now what do I say? I suppose I had better tell the truth and let him see that I can’t keep a man for love nor money. I don’t have to admit that we never were engaged now do I? And I surely don’t have to admit to the horrifying fact that I can’t keep a man because I’m fat?

    ‘We sort of ended the engagement,’ I say hesitantly. That sounds like I’ve been dumped.

    ‘That is, I ended it,’ I choose not to mention Serena. I’m sure he can put two and two together, after all he saw them kissing at the party.

    ‘But you’re still going out with him?’

I simply shrug. He stretches lazily and points at a group of monkeys in a passing tree.

    ‘I love this country,’ he says almost wistfully. ‘It’s mostly like this, calm and peaceful. Damn governments spoil everything.’

He points at some more monkeys further along the bank.

    ‘Isn’t that Toby over there?’ he asks.

    ‘I mixed up the addresses,’ I say quickly, ignoring his comment.

    ‘Mother gave me the address of the village. She saw it on television.’

He laughs.

    ‘And you have a go at me for protecting you, when it was you who put us in danger. You realise I will have to kill you now,’ he laughs.

    ‘Aren’t you angry?’ I say surprised.

He shakes his head and halves a banana, throwing one at me.

    ‘I promise to feed you something better this evening. I’ll take you to this really great place. The food is cheap, freshly cooked and it’s all outside in the cool evening air.’

This is getting better and better. I am seriously hoping Toby has decided not to fly out after all. Although I really mustn’t get any silly ideas about a romance with Alex Bryant, because let’s face it, the majority of the time he is a bit of a knob head. Not to mention the fact that he is engaged to a leggy blonde who makes me look like Hatti Jacques. I don’t even know much about the guy except that he was an SAS officer and retired three years ago, aged thirty. He came home after rescuing three hostages from an underground rebel cell in Afghanistan and claimed he is now too old for all that malarkey. He then became a journalist in the States and apparently did some undercover work here in Cambodia. Of course, in that time he managed to annihilate several pieces of Toby’s work, believing that only he can write accurately, which if I am totally honest, he can. Right now he has forgotten all about Toby and our engagement and seems preoccupied with the side of the boat. My phone shrills and Toby’s photo lights up on the screen.

    ‘Has your phone been off? For Christ’s sake Libby how can I contact you if you turn it off? Is everything okay now?’

    ‘Signal is bad,’ I lie.

    ‘I couldn’t get a flight. The weather is bloody diabolical here. Have you seen it on the web? There is fucking snow everywhere. I tell you, it’s freezing. I’ll go to the airport in the morning. You’re well out of it.’

    ‘I haven’t had time to go on the web and check the weather,’ I say irritably, flapping my hand at a fly.

I hear Alex groan.

    ‘We have a slight technical problem,’ he mumbles.

Great timing or what? Why do all the problems happen when Toby is on the other end of my Blackberry?

    ‘No, no of course you haven’t had time. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Jamie said you’ve got out of that hell hole then. Thank God. I suppose that prick is still with you.’

    ‘I need your bra,’ says Alex.

Oh, for Christ’s sake.

    ‘What the fuck!’ bellows Toby.

    ‘We’re sinking and the water is deep here. I need to bale the water out. There is nothing else we can use. It’s pretty urgent Libby, can you call him back?’

    ‘Toby, I’ll need to call you back…’

    ‘Does he do it on purpose? I swear when I get there…’

I end the call and look around. If anyone had told me that my Wonderbra would be in such demand I would have bought a box load. I find myself thinking of the most sensual way I can remove what is becoming the greatest weapon of our time. I wonder if they will consider using it in the army after all this. Oh yes, most certainly not. I fumble to undo it and manage to slide it down my left arm. Alex grabs it urgently and makes some comment about it still being warm. He then proceeds to scoop the water out of the boat using the cups. I was so engrossed in taking my bra off, that it only now registers that he said the boat was sinking.

I look to the vast expanse of water ahead of us and then to the vast expanse of water behind us and finally at the vast expanse of water that is filling up in the boat. How can there not be another person anywhere in sight?

    ‘But, we’re in the middle of a lake and it’s really deep,’ I say, stating the bloody obvious.

    ‘I’m well aware of that,’ he snaps. ‘Can you stop stating the obvious and paddle for us? I’m presuming you can swim, should we need to?’

Well, Mr Nice didn’t last long. I try to conjure up the music from
Hawaii Five-O
to make us go faster, but that doesn’t seem to work.

    ‘Of course I can swim,’ I say, insulted.

    ‘Keep your weight central. I don’t want to unbalance the boat.’

What a cheek! How dare he? What a horrid thing to say.

    ‘How dare you say I’m fat,’ I cry, feeling the threat of tears prick my eyelids.

    ‘I didn’t say anything of the kind,’ he retorts looking genuinely surprised.

    ‘Keep your weight central, I don’t want to unbalance the boat,’ I mimic.

As if on cue, my Blackberry shrills. Oh do sod off Toby. Alex gives my phone a filthy look.

    ‘Exactly, at what point, did I say you were fat?’

My Wonderbra is now soaking wet and I could sob. How can I enter a hotel, and a nice one at that, looking like I do? I must look a sight and he obviously thinks so too.

    ‘You know exactly what you said,’ I say in a hurt voice. ‘You’re a rude person.’

    ‘Yes, so you keep saying,’ he snaps, and furiously leans over to my phone and clicks the off button. I am about to speak when he gently pushes me onto the seat.

    ‘Sit there and paddle towards the bank. Unless you want to end up in the water stop moaning and do something practical.’

I can’t imagine what Toby is thinking and I can’t imagine what I was thinking earlier either. I really am so stupid to think Alex-
we-have-a-technical-problem
-Bryant, actually likes me. He is no better than Toby and thinks me fat and stupid. Toby, no doubt, thinks something must be going on. Well, I shall assure him nothing could ever go on with such a rude, arrogant arse. Concentrate on paddling Libby, otherwise you’ll only get shouted at again. The boat feels so heavy I can barely pull the paddle through the water, either that or I am getting weak. The water is now rising over my ankles.

    ‘You’re doing great,’ shouts Alex. ‘Not far to go. Your bra is doing a great job too. The cups hold loads of water.’

Now what is he trying to say?

    ‘What does that mean?’ I demand, feeling my blood boil.

Other books

Undead for a Day by Chris Marie Green, Nancy Holder, Linda Thomas-Sundstrom
Death by Deep Dish Pie by Sharon Short
A Fighting Chance by Sand, A.J.
The Hell Season by Wallace, Ray
The Final Reckoning by Sam Bourne