In the Name of Love (20 page)

The following day they drove along the coast and
found
a relatively deserted stretch of beach to picnic on. Felipe complained that it was too cold, but to Charlie the March sunshine made it feel like summer compared to the low temperatures back home. They spread out a rug and lay on the sand, drinking wine and swapping stories. Before them was the blue expanse of the Mediterranean, dotted with the brightly coloured sails of wind surfers shooting across the water.

‘Now you have to tell me something I don’t know about you,’ Felipe told her. He was being serious, but Charlie chose to keep it light.

‘I hate liquorice; it is evil. I can’t be in the same room as a piece of it, ever since primary school when Simon Newbury force-fed me a shoelace.’

Felipe frowned. His English was pretty much perfect, but didn’t cover every variety of confectionery. ‘I don’t really know what you are talking about. I’m guessing a sweet?’

They went through a succession of trivial dislikes – they were at that stage in their romance where everything about the other person was fascinating.

Charlie’s aversion to Sambuca after a drunken night with Zoe; Felipe’s bizarre dislike of cucumber.

‘What’s not to like?’ Charlie protested. ‘It’s practically water!’ Then there was her loathing of clowns, Felipe’s of very small dogs …

And then the conversation took a more serious shift as Charlie reflected that there were plenty of things Felipe didn’t know about her, things that she would rather tell him herself than let him hear them from someone else.

‘There’s something I have to tell you about my family,’ she said, sitting up and hugging her knees, instinctively mirroring the insecurity she felt inside.

‘If it is about your brother, then I already know he is in prison,’ Felipe said gently. ‘I know, and of course it doesn’t matter to me. Why should it?’

‘It will matter to your family though, won’t it?’

Felipe had hinted that his mother was something of a snob.

‘I don’t care what my family think. My brother and sister, the people I am closest to, will not mind. And I am not prepared to worry about my mother’s reaction. Anyway there is no reason for her to find out.’

Charlie gave a wry smile. ‘It’s not out in the Spanish press yet about us seeing each other but it soon will be, and that’s the first thing they’ll pick up on – along with my modelling pictures. I’m sure your mum will love those.’ She explained how the lingerie shots had ended up in the men’s magazine.

Felipe reached out for her hand and kissed it. ‘I can live with that, even though I don’t like the thought of all those men feasting their greedy eyes on your body. I want you all to myself.’ And he pulled her towards him and kissed her. Afterwards he smoothed her hair back. ‘Nothing is going to come between us. You shouldn’t worry so much.’

‘So what about your serious stuff?’ Charlie asked him. Felipe seemed so together that it was hard to imagine him being stressed by anything. He sighed and lay back, looking up at the blue sky with white clouds scurrying over it as if off to somewhere more important.

‘My family can be a pain in the arse, especially my mother. I feel as if I am a constant disappointment to her. My brother and sister feel the same way. It is hard sometimes, living with the weight of someone else’s expectations.’

‘I can’t imagine how that must feel,’ Charlie replied. ‘My mum and dad have always loved me unconditionally. I don’t understand why you’d want to have a child if you didn’t love them in that way.’

Felipe smiled. ‘I agree, but try explaining something like that to my mother. She is all about duty and the family name. Sometimes I almost feel sorry for her, and then at other times she is completely infuriating.’

‘And what about your father?’ Charlie had found it puzzling that Felipe rarely mentioned him. It was almost as if the strong mother had airbrushed him out of the picture.

‘He was never really there for us when we were growing up. He was more interested in his business, and my mother has always been the dominant one.’

There was also the question of Felipe’s ex. Up till now Charlie had resisted asking any questions about her but she found herself saying, ‘And is Paloma over you?’ She had seen the pictures of Paloma on the web and knew what an incredibly beautiful woman she was. Just the kind of nightmare ex-girlfriend you didn’t want your boyfriend to have …

‘She would say that she wasn’t.’ Felipe thought of all the tearful phone calls when she’d pleaded with him to come back to her, the late-night visit – but he didn’t want to tell Charlie about that, it would only make her
insecure.
‘But I think she enjoyed the status and position of being with me more than the relationship itself.’ He turned to face Charlie. ‘And, in case you’re wondering, I am completely over her.’ He raised a glass to her. ‘To us … to our future.’

Charlie lightly clinked her glass against his. She lay back down, and rested her head on Felipe’s chest. She felt unbelievably lucky to be with him.

‘By the way, I meant to tell you, my mother’s having a birthday party in two weeks’ time. You’re invited, of course.’

Charlie lifted her head to look at him; it seemed very early days in their relationship to be meeting the parents. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely, she insisted you come.’ What was a little white lie, here and there? Felipe thought.

‘And what kind of party is it?’

He shrugged. ‘Nothing special. Around a hundred and fifty people.’

That was Felipe’s nothing special! Her mum’s latest birthday party had started off at her favourite vegetarian Indian restaurant with family and friends. The meal was followed by karaoke in the local pub, where Lori had performed a stunning rendition of ‘Holding Out for a Hero’ and tone-deaf Aunt Helen had them all cringing with her version of ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’. Somehow Charlie doubted karaoke would be on the agenda at Felipe’s mother’s party.

‘What do I wear?’ she asked.

‘As little as possible,’ Felipe teased, running his hands over her back.

‘I’m sure your mother would love that!’

‘Okay, a cocktail dress, I suppose, but please don’t go to any trouble.’

Charlie was already mentally going through her dresses and discarding each and every one of them. She was going to need Zoe’s expert help on this one.

Chapter 13

DARCY STILL HADN’T
forgiven Charlie for her outburst. She kept her head down at work, and didn’t get into any further confrontations. But all the while she brooded on how to get her own back on the woman who seemed to have everything. Darcy found herself obsessing about Charlie. If she wasn’t going out at night she would regularly spend hours on her laptop, checking the web for any stories that had came out about the presenter, clicking through all the images of Charlie she could find, willing there to be a bad shot of her. There never was; Charlie was infuriatingly photogenic.

There was no shortage of news articles on her either. She was starting to make a name for herself as a presenter, and was already known in the tabloids and celeb mags for her ill-fated relationship with the footballer. Now it had emerged that she was involved with Felipe, the press had seized on the romance. And, even more galling, every single article was positive, saying how good it was that Charlie had found love again after
Aaron,
what a stunning couple she and Felipe made, blah blah, blah … It was enough to make Darcy want to throw up, but she couldn’t stop herself from reading about it. Everything about Charlie was perfect; it was so unfair. Everything, that was, except her brother Kris, the criminal. The very sexy criminal, Darcy had to admit, when she found a selection of Kris’s acting publicity shots on the web during one of her searches. He had the same colouring as Charlie, but his eyes were a deep chocolate brown. He had a handsome face that exuded confidence and, by the look of one of the shots of him stripped to his waist, a ripped body …

‘He’s hot,’ India commented, sitting down on the sofa next to Darcy. It was Sunday night and the two flat-mates were chilling out, drinking wine and about to watch a film.

‘He is, considering who his sister is,’ Darcy replied.

India looked questioningly at her. ‘He’s not Charlie’s brother, is he?’

Darcy nodded. ‘And he’s in prison. I bet she isn’t so proud of that.’

India sighed. ‘You’ve got to let it go, Darcy. Charlie doesn’t seem that bad. And I know she laid into you at work, but she was upset about the Felipe thing.’

‘What the fuck!’ Darcy exclaimed. ‘Whose side are you on? She totally humiliated me in public!’

‘And she apologised,’ India said quietly.

‘So? Big of her.’

Darcy’s mobile rang then and Drew’s name flashed up on the screen. A booty call on a Sunday night? She could ignore it; she should ignore it. She had promised
India
that they would have a girls’ night in, but then again what if Drew was phoning to tell her he wanted her back? However badly he treated her, she always clung on to that hope. She took the call.

‘Is that my favourite head girl? Fancy jumping in a taxi and coming over? And wear something sexy, Darcy. I’m in the mood for a bit of luvvin’.’ Darcy hated it when he put on that stupid street accent. He sounded a complete dick. But she still couldn’t stop herself from saying yes.

India had been eyeballing her during the call, obviously realising who she was talking to.

‘Drew, I’m guessing,’ she said, sounding as judgemental as Darcy’s old headmistress.

‘Yep.’ She got up from the sofa, all set to have a shower. ‘He’s asked me round. You don’t mind, do you? I know we were going to watch
Horrible Bosses
, but we can see it tomorrow night.’

‘You’re not seriously going over, are you? For God’s sake, Darcy, he says jump and you say how high!’

‘Yeah, well, it’s not exactly like that. There is this bond between us … I can’t explain.’

India looked as if she might actually throw up. ‘Oh,
please
, he’s just after a shag. It will serve you right if I drink all the wine.’ She hesitated, ‘I wasn’t going to tell you this but I think I should if it makes you see sense. Remember your sister’s birthday party last year, when you felt sick and had to go home?’

‘Yeah, so?’ Darcy wondered why India was bringing this up now.

‘And instead of going home to look after you, Drew stayed?’ She paused. ‘He made a pass at me, Darcy.’

‘Oh, come on, he was probably drunk!’ Darcy desperately tried to excuse him, just like she always did.

India looked sharply at her. ‘When I turned him down, reminding him that he was going out with my best friend, he told me I should be grateful because I was so fat.’

Darcy couldn’t look at India; she knew it was exactly the kind of comment Drew would have come out with, and wrong on so many levels. India was size 12. Her phone beeped with another message from him.
Am very excited about seeing you x
. She had to see him. She quickly got up from the sofa in case India decided to reveal anything else. ‘I’ll tell him that I know what he did,’ Darcy said.

India shrugged and pointed the remote at the flat-screen TV on the wall. ‘Yep, I’m sure it will make all the difference.’

Darcy had a hasty shower and put on the sheer black underwear and stockings that she knew Drew liked, under a very short dress. She called out goodbye to India on her way out, but her friend didn’t reply.

Drew hadn’t made any effort for Darcy when he opened the door to his Islington flat. He seemed to have slept in his clothes and hadn’t shaved. When Drew didn’t shave, he didn’t look sexy and rugged, he just looked a mess. He planted a kiss on Darcy’s lips and she almost backed away. He hadn’t even bothered to brush his teeth. His breath stank of garlic and cigarettes. The flat was a tip as well, with a pizza box on the coffee table, an overflowing ashtray and DVDs scattered across the floor.

‘I’m so hungover,’ he complained, flopping back on the sofa. ‘It was Robbo’s stag do last night and we went to a lap dancing club. We only got back at six this morning.’

Ask me what I’ve been doing, Darcy silently urged him.

He reached for her and pulled her down on the sofa with him, sticking his hand up her skirt. ‘Stockings, nice.’ Then he slapped her on the bum and said, ‘Be an angel and grab a bottle of wine. I reckon I need a hair of the dog.’

Feeling thoroughly taken for granted, Darcy wandered into the kitchen and contemplated the floor-to-ceiling wine rack. Drew fancied himself as a bit of a wine connoisseur and, knowing he was particular about which bottle to drink when, she called out, ‘Which one do you want?’

There was no reply. She could hear that he was on the phone to one of his mates, so she took the initiative and reached for a bottle of Pinot Noir. It didn’t look that special to her, so she opened it and poured two large glasses. She wondered about leaving the bottle in the kitchen, and then figured what was the point? They were bound to end up drinking the lot, so she put it on a tray along with the glasses.

Drew had ended the call by the time she walked back into the living room and had resumed his position on the sofa. He noticed the wine bottle and exclaimed, ‘Fuck! Darcy, why didn’t you ask me? That’s a ten-year-old bottle, I was saving it for Mummy’s birthday.’

Yuck! She couldn’t bear it that he still said ‘Mummy.’ He was twenty-nine, FFS!

‘I did ask you, but you ignored me.’
As usual
. She took a sip. To her it tasted like any other half-decent red, and she doubted Drew’s mummy would have noticed the difference either.

He groaned. ‘My head hurts too much to argue. Take off your clothes.’

Darcy wanted to be made love to, to feel special. Right now, as she stood in front of Drew and stripped down to her underwear, she felt about as special as the lap dancers he had ogled last night, except it was at least in their job description.

‘Very nice,’ Drew commented. ‘We both agree.’ He was looking down at his crotch where his erection bulged in his jeans. Darcy took an extra-large sip of wine. Then she put the glass down and knelt on the sofa next to him, unfastening the buttons on his fly. He had already shut his eyes in anticipation. ‘Oh yeah, Darcy, you know what I like …’