‘Hmm,’ said Leonie. ‘I don’t go in for organic food personally. Just ten per cent extra for a bit of mud, isn’t it? Paranoia tax. But I’m really impressed with his ethical investments,’ she went on. ‘He’s obviously very clued-up on tax breaks.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘Very much so.’
‘And he’s quite handsome, I suppose.’
‘He’s very handsome,’ I insisted. ‘He has gorgeous eyes, and his hair isn’t even starting to recede, unlike most of his friends.’
‘Like a teddy bear,’ agreed Leonie.
‘No,’ I said stoutly. That was what I’d been getting wrong all these years. ‘Not like a teddy bear. Like a . . . very handsome man.’
One of the crew came past, and offered to refresh Leonie’s glass, at which she giggled. ‘No, shouldn’t,’ she said. ‘This is my fourth! And I’ve had nothing to eat since . . . Oh, go on, then!’
She rolled over on her side, and looked at me over her Duty Free sunglasses. Her bosom made a bid for freedom from her bikini, but she didn’t seem to notice. ‘Nelson’s very nice, but you must be looking forward to all this,’ she confided.
‘Sorry?’
‘This life . . .’ Leonie waved a vague hand around at the yacht. Four might have been a polite scaling-down of her drinks tally. ‘I’d love to have a lifestyle like this! Yachts, and castles, and tans, and staff and,’ she stared lustfully at her drink, ‘huge crystal tumblers . . .’
I frowned. Tipsy or not, this wasn’t the disapproving Leoneezer I knew. Those blonde highlights must have gone to her head.
‘And as for Nicky!’ She giggled again, and then sighed lustfully. ‘He’s so scrummy. So . . . naughty.’
‘Leonie,’ I said, propping myself up on one elbow. Ingenious plan or not, I had to be honest with her, as a fellow St Cathalian. ‘I don’t really think he’s your type. You know he once undid my wrap-dress in front of everyone at Petrus? For a laugh. Without even thinking how mortified I might be.’
Her eyes widened even further. ‘Oh, you lucky, lucky cow!’
I sank back into the cushions. Clearly, Leonie had a hidden side I knew nothing about.
‘And to think all this is going to be yours,’ she went on.
‘It certainly isn’t,’ I corrected her, then it dawned on me that Nicky could do a lot worse than a Very Sensible Girl with a suppressed naughty streak. ‘Nicky and I are just old family friends. You know,’ I added, ‘I rather think it’s you he fancies.’
‘Oh, no, don’t be silly!’ she simpered.
‘I think he does, though,’ I insisted. ‘Didn’t he tell you how much he loved your new look? And he told me he’s bored of brainless heiresses and gold-diggers. He wants someone with her feet on the ground, someone normal who won’t be impressed by material things, and love him for who he is, instead of what he can pay for.’
‘That’s so sweet!’ she near-sobbed.
‘He’s rather keen on strict girls, you know,’ I pressed on. ‘And now they’re all moving back to Hollenberg, someone’s going to have to step in and modernise the castle, and that sort of thing. I doubt Alexander will want to have to deal with it.’
‘The castle,’ breathed Leonie. ‘Prince Alexander’s been telling me all about it. It sounds . . . magical! But probably quite dilapidated in some respects,’ she went on, in more recognisably Leoneezer tones. ‘Have they negotiated any conservation grants to help with the restoration?’
I sank back and closed my eyes, adjusting my huge sunhat so I could lean my head on the big cushions. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Perhaps that’s something you could ask Nicky over dinner?’
‘Yes, I will.’ She gasped. ‘Oh God, what should I wear?’
‘The smallest outfit you’ve got,’ I said, and pretended to go to sleep.
Obviously, I didn’t go to sleep. I lay there, fretting. Fretting about Nelson, about whether Grandad Wasdalemere had been a knight in shining armour or just an old man with a red nose, about whether Alexander was going to break Granny’s heart again. And also about Nicky and that enormous diamond ring.
A shadow fell over my face, and I felt someone squat down next to me. Whoever it was smelled of cologne, and the knees didn’t click, so I knew it wasn’t Nelson or Alexander.
‘Melissa,’ whispered Nicky.
Oh, bollocks.
I kept my eyes shut beneath my shades.
‘Melissa, I need to talk to you.’ His voice sounded unusually serious, and quite urgent. ‘In private.’
This was it. My heart hammered. Right, I told myself, be dignified. Respect the fact that he really seems to have grown up recently.
An ice cube dropped on my cleavage and I sat up, scrabbling for it as it vanished into the dark caverns of my kaftan.
‘So you weren’t asleep,’ Nicky remarked, then added, as if he just couldn’t stop himself, ‘want some help fishing it out?’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leonie struggle between desire and disapproval.
‘Don’t do that,’ I snapped. ‘Unless you want one down your trousers?’
Nicky pretended to swoon, but I could see tension lines around his mouth. ‘I love it when you get cross with me. Come on, I need to talk to you.’ And he grabbed my hand and dragged me off the cushions.
Giving Leonie a significant look, I followed Nicky down into the saloon, mentally preparing myself to be kind yet firm.
He dropped the light-hearted banter as soon as we were out of sight, and when we were safely in his cabin, he shut the door and went over to his desk.
Oh, God, I couldn’t let him do this.
‘Nicky,’ I said hastily, ‘you know I absolutely adore you, and I really do feel we have a special friendship . . .’
And the rest. I blanched, but drove on.
‘Which I hope we’ll never lose, but I’ve had a very upsetting time of it lately, and I just need some space and time on my own to . . . What?’
He was staring at me impatiently. Then, to my horror, he dropped to one knee.
‘Nicky, I can’t marry you! I love someone else!’ I roared, at the same time as loud music started blasting out of the carefully concealed speakers all round the cabin.
‘What?’ he said, getting up.
I realised he’d gone down on one knee to turn on the stereo, not to propose at all. The first pricklings of humiliation stabbed at my chest but, fortunately, he didn’t seem to have caught what I’d said.
‘I don’t want to be overheard,’ said Nicky, nodding towards the music. ‘Something bloody awful’s happened.’
He flipped open the lid of his laptop, and clicked on an email. Curiously, I drew nearer and saw the email was from Imogen. It was composed in capital letters. She was clearly very angry or else wasn’t familiar with the caps lock.
Nicky sank into his chair, pulled open the drawer of the desk and withdrew a hip flask, from which he took a mighty swig. ‘Read it,’ he urged.
I skimmed Imogen’s shouty email, flinching at the foul language. The gist of it was that she was very annoyed at being dumped for some ‘fat chav’, as she charmingly described me, and to repay Nicky for making her look like a fool – something I felt she was doing perfectly adequately without his help – she was going to the magazines with some ‘interesting’ photos she had of him. Which, she felt, might well provide an obstacle to his getting the keys to Castle Hollenberg. In fact, Imogen was fairly confident they might even lead to a visit from Her Majesty’s Constabulary.
I scrolled down. Imogen had attached one of the photographs to the email as an illustration. It started innocuously enough: a dark nightclub, the tops of people’s heads . . .
I reeled back from the desk at the sight of two flushed, semi-naked girls grappling with Nicky and his shouty friend Chunder. Both of them were just about wearing unravelling togas, and there were empty bottles and bits of discarded clothing everywhere. Imogen had typed IT GETS MUCH WORSE – REMEMBER THE TWINS?!?!?!?!!?! beneath.
‘Nicky, what on earth was going on ther
e?’ I peered closer at the arrangement of bare arms and legs. ‘Were you having a wheelbarrow race?’
He looked shifty. ‘Um, not exactly.’
I winced just looking at his tattoo, which seemed to be some kind of heraldic thing. ‘Is that a snake rampant? Gosh, it must have really hurt getting it down there . . .’
‘Fine, OK!’ said Nicky, and he slammed the lid down, swigging again from his hip flask.
I sank back onto the chair in dismay. Just when I thought a nicer Nicky was emerging from the Euro-trash shell. It really was my day for being let down by people.
‘Melissa, I’m really sorry you had to see that,’ he said, standing up and biting his nails.
‘Why?’ I said bitterly. ‘Did you think you had me completely taken in with your sensitive act?’
‘No, because I’ve moved on since that was taken! Jesus, don’t look at me like that!’ he protested, taking a step backwards. ‘Don’t you think I feel bad enough without having you giving me the full disappointment treatment?’
‘It’s not you I’m disappointed with,’ I said, ‘it’s me. I feel sorry for you. What the hell were you thinking?’
‘It’s camera phones,’ he whined. ‘They’ve ruined everything . . .’
‘You’re going to ruin everything!’ I yelled at him. ‘On your own! For everyone! Can you imagine how embarrassing this’ll be for Alexander? Quite apart from anything else?’
Without warning, the defiance turned to contrition, and Nicky crumpled onto the bed, his head in his hands.
I turned off the stereo, so we didn’t have to yell. Although I really, really wanted to yell at him right then.
‘Look, I know I’ve been stupid in the past,’ he said. ‘OK? I’ve been stupid. But I swear to God, Melissa, this is an oooold photograph. It happened some time last year. Before I met you.’
That made me feel quite awkward. ‘I didn’t know my opinion mattered so much,’ I said.
‘It does. I do care what you think. Very much. And you’re right – I don’t want Grandad dragged into it. He’d be . . . he’d be gutted.’ Nicky’s face went pale beneath his tan, and he started chewing his nails again. ‘Fine, maybe I’ve left it a bit late to grow up, but I have, OK, and I don’t want things to be screwed because of something I’ve done. And God knows what else Piglet’s got. I’ve been to some . . . pretty wild parties.’ He looked up at me, appealingly. ‘But you have to believe me when I tell you I haven’t been to a single one since you started doing whatever it is you’re doing with me.’
I returned his gaze, but with a more cynical lift of the eyebrows. ‘I might be naive, Nicolas, but I’m not stupid.’
His innocent face slipped a little. ‘OK, but I haven’t done anything prison-worthy, and I definitely haven’t done anything Piglet could have happy-snapped.’
‘And there’s the small matter of your inheritance,’ I went on mercilessly, determined to wring full contrition out of him. ‘I suppose that hadn’t crossed your mind?’
Nicky flinched. ‘Of course not! Are you trying to make me cry?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m trying to make you feel guilty.’
‘Well, I bloody am, OK? This is entirely my fault! I can see that! I have been an idiot! But please help me sort it out! You’re the only person I really trust!’
‘OK.’ I took pity on him: poor Nicky looked positively bewildered at the new emotions he was feeling.
We sat and stared at each other.
‘Right,’ I said at last, when it was clear that he wasn’t going to propose as an afterthought. ‘Did she give you a deadline? What exactly does she want?’
‘Nothing. She just wants to punish me,’ he said bitterly. ‘Piglet’s like that – it’s all about publicity for her. She’s going on some celebrity pirate ship thing next month, you know, as the random posh totty, so you can bet there’ll be some big picture of her with her tits out, alongside any of me.’
‘You’ll have to stall her until we can think of something,’ I said. ‘Tell her where you are—’
‘She knows exactly where I am,’ he interrupted. ‘That’s half the problem.’ He nodded meaningfully towards me.
‘Well, that’s ridiculous,’ I said briskly. ‘She ought to know we’re old family friends. Tell her you want to talk about it face to face. Tell her whatever she wants to hear, but make sure she doesn’t do anything.’
‘Then what?’ Nicky asked, with new hope in his eyes.
‘I don’t know! I’ll have to think of something.’
‘By when?’
‘Oh, I don’t know! Soon!’ I threw my hands in the air. ‘I’ve never been in a blackmail situation before! Ask Granny – she’s more likely to have experience of this than me.’
Nicky looked horrified. ‘Melissa, this is our secret.’
Yeah, I thought, until it’s just between me, you, and the readership of Hello!. But I didn’t say anything.
‘Fine. But this week is looking mad already – I won’t be in the office from Thursday, and I’m going home to help my sister sort out the plans for my nephew’s christening . . .’
‘Yeah,’ said Nicky. ‘Your father rang me this week – asked me to be a godfather.’
‘Really?’ It didn’t surprise me. ‘I thought that was up to the parents.’
‘Grandparents usually have their own agendas,’ said Nicky.
‘Tell me about it,’ I said.
There was a knock at the cabin door, and Alison, the stewardess, put her head round. ‘Excuse me, but Prince Alexander asks if you’d both come up on deck for a moment?’
Nicky rolled his eyes. ‘Can you tell him we’re quite—’
‘Fine!’ I interrupted him. ‘Quite fine! We’ll be right along.’
‘Thanks so much,’ she said, and vanished.
‘Come on,’ I said. Nicky looked utterly deflated, and almost boyish, with his rolled-up deck trousers revealing his skinny ankles and long, tanned feet. The sexiness had temporarily evaporated, but he looked much more human. I felt a sudden, protective urge towards him, and grabbed his wrists. ‘Let’s get up there. It’ll seem better in the sunlight.’
He let himself be hauled to his feet, then hesitated, and held my hand.
For one ghastly moment, I thought he was going to propose, while I was off guard, but instead he gave me a hug. ‘Thanks, Mel,’ he mumbled into my shoulder. ‘I wish I’d had a friend like you before now. Might not be in such a bloody mess.’
I hugged him back. ‘Well, quite. And I’d have had miles better holidays. Come on,’ I said, breaking apart. ‘I think I heard a champagne cork pop.’
It was a champagne cork. When we arrived on the sun deck, Nelson and Leonie were standing by the loungers, awkwardly holding onto massive flutes, while two of the crew bustled about with silver ice buckets and stands. Leonie was swaying tipsily in the breeze, and Nelson glared at Nicky as we emerged.
‘Ah, here they are at last!’ cried Alexander, in a voice that could have carried back to Nice airport. He was wearing a fresh linen jacket over his white shirt, and looked as if he were about to burst with delight. ‘Come on, you two! Take a glass!’
I signalled frantically with my eyes to Granny, in case she thought Nicky had popped the question, and held up my bare left hand, in what I hoped was a casual gesture.
‘Something the matter with your hand, darling?’ she asked, tearing her gaze away from Alexander for a second, and shading her eyes to see me better.
It was then that I was nearly blinded by a ray of sunshine hitting the enormous diamond ring she was wearing. The same ring that had been in Nicky’s cabin.
‘What?’ hissed Nicky.
‘That ring . . .’ I began.
‘Oh, that. Yeah, he had me look after it for him. Apparently, no drawer is safe from your grandmother.’
I opened my mouth to defend her honour, just as Alexander cleared his throat and addressed the assembled gathering.
‘I want you to be the very first to know that Dily
s has made me the happiest old man in the world, and agreed to marry me,’ he said. He took her hands, as if the rest of us weren’t there, and went on, ‘I should have realised long ago that castles and lands mean nothing, unless the woman you love is there to share it with you.’
‘Although obviously now you can have both,’ Granny pointed out. ‘Which is simply marvellous.’
Alexander inclined his silvery head. ‘It is marvellous. I can’t believe my luck. Eh, Nicky? I think this will be a gala year for our family?’
Poor Nicky looked so sick I rushed in and proposed the toast for him. And when Leonie sat herself between him and Alexander at dinner, and proceeded to regale them with endless clever advice about financial planning, he didn’t even have the energy to tell her the buttons had popped open on her dress.
Nelson was strangely subdued; I was thinking how I could help Nicky; Granny was clearly planning her wedding in her head – needless to say, for our own various reasons, we all got roaring drunk, and, VIP list or not, no one went to Jimmy’z that night.
23
I realise it sounds insane to be on a luxurious super-yacht, with ten staff, two speedboats, a full bar and a jacuzzi at your disposal – and yet to be whiling away the endless hours until you can fly back to London and your office job, but that’s how Sunday went for me, Nelson, Leonie and Nicky.
At least Leonie had the delights of flirting with Nicky, who managed a half-hearted sort of response, out of habit more than anything else. As for me, I was suddenly awkward with Nelson for the first time in my whole life.
‘Has Nicky said something?’ he asked, when he caught me disconsolately grazing on the finger buffet.
‘No!’ I said quickly. ‘He’s . . . fine.’
Nelson gave me a funny look. ‘And you’re OK?’
I hazarded a guess. ‘Yes?’
‘He seems to be getting on with Leonie.’
‘Mmm,’ I said, not sure if he was annoyed because he fancied her, or annoyed on my behalf because he thought I fancied Nicky.
‘Good,’ said Nelson, equally cryptically, and went back on deck.
Clearly, romantic complications weren’t an issue for Granny and Alexander. They were in their own private world of champagne and in-jokes, which they intended to extend on the yacht for a few more days. And, technically, Nicky didn’t have a job to get back for, but the hung-over hours passed very slowly until at last the cars arrived at the marina to take us to the airport.