Authors: Alison Rose
‘Oh. What a shame. It’s been so lovely to see you, Johnson. I expect you’re terribly busy.’
‘You still go all English when you’re upset.’
She was about to deny that she was upset, but then she looked into his eyes and saw her own disappointment mirrored there. ‘Yes, I suppose I do,’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know when I’ll be free again. This tour is a bitch.’
‘You make a lot of people happy with your music, Johnson. I expect they all want to see you in the flesh.’
‘I guess so. I get a kick out of performing too, although it gets harder to be away from home the older I get.’ He took her hands. ‘I want to see you again, Sandy. I feel like we’ve hardly had a chance to get reacquainted. I feel like I’ve found something special again, and I want … need to be with you, to find out if it’s real.’
‘Is this a good idea? I mean, you’ll be going away soon. My life is here.’ She searched his face, her voice a little desperate as she asked ‘Are we going to hurt each other again, Johnson? ‘
He closed his eyes and leaned down, resting his forehead on hers. ‘I don’t know.’ he responded softly. ‘I just know that I want to take a chance. To find out if there’s anything left after all these years. Don’t you think we owe it to ourselves, Sandy?’
She was silent for a moment, breathing in his scent. Remembering how much she had loved him once. She realised that she too needed to find out if this was meant to be. She nodded, praying that this time, whatever happened, they could at least survive without the pain that had accompanied the end of their youthful romance. In answer, Johnson bent his head and kissed her with a yearning which matched her own. When at last they reluctantly moved apart, Alex knew that she had to see this through.
‘Yes, Johnson,’ she agreed. ‘We owe it to ourselves.’
The next morning Kate was woken early by the phone. After an almost sleepless night she had finally dozed off just as day was breaking. She groaned as she reached blindly for the telephone. ‘It’s Saturday morning. This had better be good or I’m hanging up,’ she snapped. She recognised her mother’s laughter.
‘Sorry darling, I forgot you like a lie-in at the weekend.’
‘Mum! What time is it?’
‘Just gone nine. Do you want me to ring back later?’
‘Er … no. No, of course not. I just … give me a minute. I … er … had a bit of a late night.’
‘A good one, I hope. But perhaps not, judging by your telephone manner this morning.’
‘Oh, you know. A bit good, a bit bad …’
‘A bit wiggle-waggle,’ her mother finished, chuckling at the old family joke. ‘Do tell! Or is it something you shouldn’t share with your mother?’
‘Just dinner with a friend,’ she said, unwilling to say exactly who she’d spent the evening with.
‘That’s nice, dear.’
She wondered whether she should warn her mother that she’d told Johnson Brand where he could find her, but Alexandra’s next words made the information redundant.
‘I’m sorry I woke you up, Kate, but I’ve been up for hours and have been dying to tell you. Johnson Brand came to see me yesterday! Can you believe it? He just turned up in the village and knocked on my door! Well of course you can believe it – he told me he asked you for my address. Why on earth didn’t you warn me, darling?’
‘He came yesterday?’
‘About seven o’clock. I’d just got back from Maggie’s. She finally persuaded me to have my hair cut, by the way. I forgot to tell you when you called last week. We’d been into Bath for the day and I’d bought some new clothes, and had my make-up done and everything. If he’d turned up a day earlier, he’d have found a frump in an old tracksuit. I was so relieved, Kate! I’d have hated him to see how old and tired I’ve been looking lately.’
The news that Johnson had taken advantage of the same break in their busy schedule to visit her mother in Wiltshire unnerved Kate. He must have headed out the minute he put the phone down.
‘Mum, you’re beautiful, whatever you’re wearing.’
Her mother laughed. ‘Thank you, darling. I know you mean it, and I shouldn’t be vain. But the last time I saw Johnson I was young, firm, and gorgeous. Now I’m soft and well on the way to being middle-aged, and to have him turn up when I’m feeling fabulous from a make-over did my self-esteem the world of good.’
‘So,’ she had to ask. ‘How did it go?’
Her mother was silent for a few moments.
‘Mum?’
‘It was lovely. He’s hardly changed a bit. A bit broader in the shoulders perhaps, and he’s got a bit of silver in his hair now, of course.’ She giggled. ‘He got a bit of a shock when he saw my hair.’
‘Mmm. I can imagine if the last time you saw him you had hair like mine.’ Mind you, Kate was aware of the odd stray white hair amongst her own locks already. ‘But it’s a lovely shade – almost silver.’
‘Yes, I suppose it looks OK. The hairdresser raved over it. She cut it much shorter than I expected. It’s looking quite spiky this morning. I just hope I can recreate the style myself.’
‘Short? Wow, Mum, you really have had the works, haven’t you? Can you take a picture on your mobile phone and send it to me? I can’t wait to see it.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. But forget my hair – why on earth did you tease him about the family business? He got such a shock, the poor love.’
Kate burst out laughing. ‘Freaked out, did he?’
‘You are a wicked girl. He didn’t expect it, that’s for sure.’
‘So, what next?’ Kate asked after they’d finished giggling.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I expect he’ll be far too busy with this tour to bother with me. I’m just a blast from the past, a curiosity. It was lovely to see him though. Something else to tell the grandchildren, if ever I get any.’
‘Well, don’t hold your breath,’ Kate laughed. ‘I’m in no rush to settle down.’
When the call ended twenty minutes later, Kate lay in bed, phone in hand, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. She hadn’t expected Johnson to act so quickly. He must have walked out of his hotel straight into a car and headed for Wiltshire as soon as they had finished talking yesterday. And judging by her mother’s mood this morning, he had been more than welcome. It had been a long time since Alexandra had displayed such animation. It had been as though someone had turned off a switch inside her when Kate’s father had died. She had carried on, ministering to her flock and being there for everyone. But she hadn’t
been there
, not really.
Kate didn’t know whether to laugh or cry that the first person to make her mother giggle in over two years was the man who’d broken her teenaged heart. The man who was now a multi-millionaire rock star, as far removed from the life of a village priest in rural Wiltshire as you’re likely to find.
‘Perhaps it’s the make-over,’ she mused. ‘Maybe she was already on the way up, and Johnson’s visit when she was feeling good about herself was the icing on the cake.’ She hoped so. Her mother was vulnerable, and Kate would never forgive herself if Johnson hurt her.
After last night she could understand how she had fallen for the younger Johnson all those years ago. She had always prided herself on being level-headed when all of her friends had been getting hot and bothered over their men-folk. But Paul Brand had got her very hot and bothered. That definitely wasn’t on her agenda! The last thing she needed was some smooth-talking, sexy American turning her head. She’d worked hard for her position at the paper, and if she wanted to get on she needed to keep her focus. There was plenty of time to worry about falling in love when she’d secured her own column on the paper. And anyway, Paul Brand was a bad bet. He wasn’t the keeping kind.
She rolled out of bed, heading for the shower, but halted as she reached for the controls. What was she thinking? How could she think of love and Paul Brand together? She hardly knew the man, and wasn’t even sure if she liked him!
With an angry twist she turned on the water. As she stripped off her pyjamas she tried to focus on the things she needed to do this weekend. The man had left her at her door last night and headed off for Birmingham or somewhere. He wouldn’t be back. End of story. She stepped into the steam-filled cubicle and gasped as hot water hit her skin.
But it wasn’t the end of the story, was it? She still had his father’s offer to consider. The opportunity of a lifetime. If she took it, it would move her closer to her dream. But if she took it, she’d be working in close proximity with Paul Brand for the next three months. There was also the situation with her mother to consider. She’d said she didn’t expect to see Johnson again, but Kate had a feeling that one short visit wouldn’t be enough for him. Her mother was a beautiful woman, inside and out. He’d been far too keen to get reacquainted as soon as he knew where she was. If Kate went on tour with him, there was even more chance that he’d rebuild his links with her mother. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Just as she saw no future between herself and the son, she couldn’t imagine anything lasting could come out of prolonging the reunion between their parents. Her mother was sure to get hurt, and Kate couldn’t bear that.
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that she should refuse the assignment. She might have been able to handle it if it were just a case of keeping out of Paul Brand’s way, but the added complication of her mother and Johnson Brand’s renewed friendship (no way could she contemplate the concept of a
romance
between them!) was just too much. Much as her journalistic mind mourned the lost opportunity, her heart wanted to get herself and her mother as far away from the Brand men as possible.
And it wasn’t just their attentions she was worried about. They were news, however closely they guarded their privacy. She wanted to write about the news, not be it. The thought of paparazzi watching their every move made her ashamed to be a journalist.
Kate spent the rest of the day doing her usual weekend jobs of cleaning and laundry, changing her mind about the tour, and then back again with alarming regularity. By the time her flat was gleaming and her clothes washed and ironed she was going stir crazy.
‘I might as well go and see the new haircut!’ She exclaimed, grabbing an overnight bag and stuffing in her wash bag and a change of clothes. She was out of the door within a few minutes.
It did her good to get out of London. Her mother was pleased to see her, and by the time she returned to the flat on Sunday evening Kate was feeling a lot calmer. Alexandra did indeed look fantastic after her makeover, but she was still her mum. Kate felt reassured that Johnson Brand wouldn’t be able to sweep in and break her heart again.
Her mother’s quiet strength helped her to see that maybe she’d over-reacted to the impact of meeting the Brand men for the first time. Nevertheless, she still wasn’t sure about the wisdom of the assignment.
The matter was taken out of her hands when she arrived at work on Monday morning. She was greeted with a huge bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath, and the catcalls of her colleagues.
‘Kate Armstrong, you dark horse!’
‘Way to go, Katie’
‘Never thought you had it in you!’
With a groan, she dumped her bag on her chair and stood, hands on hips, contemplating the florist’s confection on her desk. Her first joyful reaction had been that Paul had sent them. But she pulled her thoughts up swiftly, remembering that it had been his father who had called on Friday when she’d given up on hearing from the son.
OK, so he’d been lying in wait for her outside, which only went to show how unpredictable he was. Flowers were too predictable. Maybe they were from Johnson, as a thank you for trusting him with her mother’s address. Or even an added enticement to take the assignment.
‘Come on, Kate! Put us out of our misery – read the card!’
With a glare at the small crowd assembled around the desk, she reached out and plucked the florist’s envelope from the centre of the arrangement. ‘Haven’t you lot got work to do? Can’t a girl have any privacy round here?’
‘Not when you’ve been caught on film snogging on our doorstep, you naughty girl,’ came the retort from Sam, the sports editor.
‘Caught on … tell me you’re joking,’ she demanded, realising too late that she might well have been tricked into confirming what could have been no more than a rumour.
‘Nope. A freelancer spotted Brand Junior lurking on Friday night and hung around. The boss is waiting to hear your side of the story before we go to print.’
‘The hell he is!’
The card was stuffed into her pocket as she headed towards the editor’s office. Her colleagues stepped back, clearing the path ahead of her, one or two of them calling out questions or encouragement as she passed. The door opened before she reached it and Ned White motioned her inside.
‘It’s about time you arrived, Armstrong.’ He looked at her eager entourage. ‘Back to work, you lot. The show’s over.’
Kate slumped into the visitor’s chair. ‘What’s going on, Boss?’
‘That’s what I was going to ask you.’ He responded, searching through the debris of papers on his desk before extracting a folder and offering it to her.
Kate regarded the proffered file with suspicion for a moment before sighing and taking it. Without giving herself time to think, she opened it. The image of a couple in a heated embrace in the middle of a busy London street confronted her. She blinked as she registered how she had clung to Paul Brand, and how thoroughly she had been kissed. Her cheeks flamed as she remembered just how thoroughly she had enjoyed it.
‘Oh!’
Ned laughed. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’
‘I don’t know what to say. ‘
‘OK, you don’t want to talk about it. So go and write me fifteen hundred words about your affair with Paul Brand to go with the picture.’
‘Not a chance!’ she snapped. ‘I am not having an affair with him!’
‘Oh, so it was a one-night stand? Even better.’
‘I did not sleep with Paul Brand!’
‘Why not? Doesn’t look like either of you is gay.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Kate jumped out of her seat and slammed the file down on his desk. ‘Just because he kissed me, it doesn’t follow that I jumped into bed with the man! I hardly know him!’
He picked up the picture and studied it with raised eyebrows. ‘Could’ve fooled me.’
Kate wanted to scream. Months of hard work, proving herself as a serious journalist were slipping down the pan because of one lousy photo. ‘Which sleazebag photographer was stalking me?’ she demanded. ‘I’d like to shake him warmly by the throat.’
Again, Ned White laughed. ‘Now, now. That’s no way to talk about a valued colleague.’ He paused as she sank back into her seat. ‘Especially as I’ve promised lover boy’s daddy that you’ll join the family on tour.’
‘What?’ she gasped.
‘Yep. The Johnson people were on the phone first thing. Said the old man was so impressed with your article that he wanted to give you exclusive rights to report on the tour. You may not have slept with the son yet, but you’ve certainly made your mark, girl. Well done.’
Kate buried her head in her hands. She felt as though the world was exploding around her. ‘I don’t want to go. Send someone else.’
‘No choice. They want you, they get you. So if you and Junior had a tiff Friday night you’d better get over it. They’re expecting you in Sheffield this afternoon. If you shift the love token off your desk and open your email you’ll find the details. The tour’s just started and they’ve got another twelve weeks to go. We’ll do a “tour diary”, with a weekly column and some spin-off features. I want stuff on the gigs, the fans, the band, the man himself. By the end of this tour, I want
The Globe
to be known as Brand’s best friend.’
She looked up, both horrified and excited by the prospect. ‘Who gets the by-line?’
He smiled, sensing victory. ‘Why, our very own Kate Armstrong, the woman with her finger on the … er … pulse of the Brand tour.’
‘And the pictures?’ she asked with narrowed eyes.
‘Keep them as a souvenir, sweetheart. I’ve got copies. Just in case you get too busy to send in a report and we have to find a filler.’
She found the florist’s card in her jacket pocket when she was rummaging for her flat key an hour later. She had a taxi waiting outside to take her to the airport as soon as she’d managed to pack a bag. For a moment she contemplated tearing it up, unread. But she changed her mind just as she was about the rip into it. Instead she slit the envelope and extracted the card, planning to vent her spleen on whichever of the Brand men had sent the bouquet.
Kate read the message twice before it sank in. With a shake of her head she clamped a hand over her mouth, but she couldn’t stop the explosion of laughter which erupted. The sleazy actor she’d interviewed with his super-rich fiancée had an original, but unpalatable line in propositions.
When she’d wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes, Kate took a few minutes to scan the card onto her computer and email it to her colleagues at the paper, suggesting that the socialite might be interested to learn about her man’s unusual predilections. As far as Kate was concerned, he had overstepped the mark and deserved everything that was coming to him. If it also directed the heat away from her and Paul Brand, then she wasn’t about to complain.
Now all she had to do was get through the next three months without overstepping her own boundaries and getting her foolish heart broken.