Chapter 30
30
He could see her so clearly, but she looked different somehow. She was holding his hand and they were running down the road. They were screaming with laughter and they were out of breath. Their faces were glowing, their eyes were bright.
He didn’t want to wake up. He was happy here; he was where he wanted to be.
‘Quinn? Please open your eyes. I don’t know what to do! They want to call an ambulance, I think. They keep saying something like ambulancia. I’m guessing that’s what it is,’ George spoke, holding his head on her lap.
He was pale now, clammy and his pulse was weak. She only knew about burns and eye washes from a vague first aid course she had done at college. She hadn’t taken all that much notice of it. She had snuck out of that lesson most weeks to sleep with one of the A-Level tutors.
‘See?’ Quinn said, his eyes beginning to open.
‘Quinn? Are you OK? Should I get an ambulance?’ George asked him.
A crowd of shoppers were circled around them, including the manager on his mobile phone talking excessively quickly and gesticulating frantically .
‘No, no ambulance. Let’s just get out of here,’ Quinn said, sitting up and attempting to stand.
He wobbled and had to hold George for support.
‘Just sit for a bit. I’ll get some water. Shit, what’s the Spanish for “water”? Why didn’t I bring a damn phrasebook with me?’ George asked.
‘Agua,’ Quinn replied.
‘ Agua por favor, ’ George said to the group of people watching.
All of them hurried off, shuffling towards the bottled water section, where they started to take down two litre bottles of the stuff.
‘Are you sure you’re OK? Maybe you should go to hospital, to get checked over,’ George suggested.
‘I’m fine; this happens. You know it happens. I just had the weirdest dream, though. I think we were going to get married and you had flowers in your hair,’ Quinn told her, taking hold of her hand and smiling.
‘Are you sure you didn’t knock your head?’ George replied.
‘I’m sure,’ he answered.
One of the shoppers passed over a bottle of water and George took it gratefully, passing it to Quinn. He drank some quickly, spilling it down his chin and wiping it away with the back of his arm.
‘Let’s get out of here. To hell with the canapés; I’ll order Chinese or something,’ he said, getting to his feet and taking a breath.
‘OK but I’m driving,’ George insisted.
‘Pull up over there,’ Quinn directed.
‘Where?’
‘Just there, on the right.’
George brought the Jeep to a halt and turned off the engine .
‘We ought to get back. I’ve left the team on their own doing the veggie canapés and—’ George started, checking her new watch.
‘Come on, there’s steps. I run this way sometimes,’ Quinn said, ignoring her and getting out of the car.
‘Wait! Where are you going? You ought to stay out of the sun, Quinn!’ George called as he disappeared over the edge of the rock face.
‘You’re sounding your age, George! Start taking off your clothes!’ he yelled.
George hurried out of the car and followed his lead, down stone steps carved into the hillside. The cliff was high and the path uneven, but she could see a small, deserted bay at the foot of it. There was a short strip of golden sand and turquoise water lapping the perimeter.
Out of breath, in her haste not to get left behind, she stepped down onto the sand and saw Quinn was stood at the edge of the water. His bare feet were in the sea, his naked body was embracing the sun and his clothes were in a pile a few metres away.
‘Are you mad?’ George asked him.
‘No, I’m naked,’ he answered with a grin, turning to face her.
‘I think you were lying. I think you definitely knocked your head on the floor of the supermarket back there,’ George said, trying to keep focussed on his face.
‘George Fraser, are you a prude? Do you have a problem with public nudity?’ Quinn asked.
‘I’m not a prude; you know that,’ she replied, standing her ground and trying not to let embarrassment filter into her expression.
‘Then take your clothes off,’ Quinn told her.
He put his hand up under her top and dragged it over her head, leaving her stood in a bra that had seen better days and her work combats .
‘Anyone could come down those steps and see us,’ George whispered as he deftly undid the back of her bra.
‘I know,’ he responded, his mouth meeting hers.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this. Any of this,’ George breathed as he pushed her bra straps down her arms and removed it.
‘I want to know what you feel like in the ocean, covered in sand and hot from the sun,’ Quinn told her.
‘Then I need to get out of these things,’ George said, starting to unbutton her trousers.
‘Yes, you do,’ Quinn agreed, pulling her down onto the beach.
She could feel the sun on her back as she lay on her side on the sand. She felt hot and contented, alive and exhausted. Sharp grains were underneath her fingernails and her hands were clasped together with his.
‘I never thought I would ever find this,’ Quinn said, looking at her.
‘Find what?’ George asked.
‘This feeling I get when I’m with you. It’s just so right.’
‘I know. I feel the same,’ she answered softly.
‘So, what happened with Adam’s father?’ Quinn enquired, unlinking one of his hands to brush a strand of hair away from her forehead.
‘It was a long time ago now. We were young,’ George replied evasively.
Her feelings for Quinn had pushed Paul to the back of her mind, for the most part. Talking about him when they were together felt almost treacherous, to both of them.
‘I know that. I want to know why he left you. Does he know he has a son?’ Quinn clarified.
George shook her head .
‘His mother was ill. She had a rare form of cancer. The family moved to Canada so she could get treatment. The number he gave me – well, I couldn’t contact him,’ George explained.
‘Have you tried since? I mean, have you looked him up on MySpace or Facebook?’
‘Of course I have. He isn’t on any social networking sites. To be honest, he wasn’t a great one for technology. He gave up having a mobile phone; he was always losing it.’
‘You loved him, though? It wasn’t just kids’ stuff,’ Quinn said.
‘Yes, I loved him. We loved each other,’ George replied.
Quinn nodded and brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
‘It was like you and me. We had this instant connection; we couldn’t be separated,’ George spoke.
‘Until you were,’ Quinn reminded.
‘Yeah, like we will be,’ George said with an air of finality.
‘Not in here, though. Never in here,’ Quinn said, bringing her hand down onto his chest.
‘What if that isn’t enough? What if this “debt” you owe Roger takes ten years to pay off? What am I supposed to do? Live on text sex, emails and the occasional visit? I mean, transatlantic flights aren’t a Ryanair hop across the water, are they? And there’s no Concorde any more. We’re talking what? Eight? Nine hours?’ George told him.
‘It won’t take ten years. I’m not waiting ten years for us to be together. I just need to get this wedding out of the way and let the dust settle,’ Quinn spoke.
‘And how long will that take? Six months? A year? All the time sleeping with her, while I what? Live like a nun surviving on the vibration of my Samsung?’ George asked .
‘What d’you want me to say, George? I’m trying to be honest with you. You know I’m marrying Taylor; you’ve always known that. I just need to do it and then move on as quickly as I can,’ Quinn said.
‘You’re making it sound like a transaction. It’s a wedding, Quinn! You’ve just clung to me and cried out my name and torn at my back and you’re going to stand up in front of the world and lie to them all. You’re going to sell everyone a false fairy tale.’
‘I’m already lying to them, OK! I’m lying to them every day anyway! One more big, fat, costly, fiesta-sized lie isn’t going to make a bit of fucking difference!’ Quinn blasted.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘We’d better go,’ Quinn said, taking a breath and getting to his feet.
‘No Quinn, not like this. We’ve just had the most perfect time here. We’re going to talk this out. You’re going to tell me what’s going on with you,’ George said, grabbing hold of his t-shirt as he bent to pick it off the sand.
‘I can’t talk it out and I don’t want to,’ he answered stubbornly.
‘You don’t want to! Oh, OK then. You don’t want to so we won’t! Listen, I’m not one of your minions who shops and cooks for you. I’m your – I’m – you know what? I don’t know what I am,’ George said.
She threw his t-shirt up to him and began hurriedly pulling on her clothes, scattering sand.
‘George! Don’t you dare walk away from me!’ Quinn yelled as she began to stagger through the sand, fastening her trousers as she went.
‘Why? Because you want to be the one doing the walking? No! I’m done. I’m out. Enjoy your marriage. Find another lover. I’m sure they’ll be queuing up – well – before they read the article about your really tiny dick,’ George screamed at him .
Tears were burning her eyes as she looked at him. There he was, topless and perfect, the sun glancing off his torso, the wind blowing his hair. Suddenly, her heart was filled with memories of Paul. The despair when he left, her hand against the glass, Paul’s expression of loss. She could still see the car disappearing around the corner at the end of her road. Her throat had been sore, her insides had ached. It was happening all over again.
She sank to her knees on the beach and hugged herself into a ball. What did she have if she didn’t have him? Finger Food. Work was all she had and that had been all she needed, until now. Until she’d had a taste of something else.
‘Now you listen to me! All this exhibitionist behaviour will get you nowhere with me. You hear?’ Quinn said, pulling her head up from her knees and enveloping her against his chest.
‘Leave me alone! I’m fine! It’s you! You’re making me remember things that hurt. You’ve opened up old wounds and poured rock salt in them! You’ve made me feel all over again and I don’t want the pain! I can’t go back there!’ George blasted, thumping his chest with her fist.
‘Hey, what do you think you’ve done to me? I’ve written thirty-two songs since we met. Thirty-two. That’s going to be one hell of an album! But they’re all so personal, I can’t use any of them and I’ve got a big fucking deadline looming.’
‘Well, I apologise!’
‘So you should because at least ten of those songs are the best I’ve ever written. Because I wrote them the night we first met,’ Quinn told her, holding her tightly by the wrists.
‘Let me go!’
‘No.’
‘Let me go,’ she repeated.
‘Never. ’
‘I can’t be with you. Not when I know you’re with her. Touching her the way you’ve touched me,’ George said, biting her lip and raising her eyes to meet his.
‘George, I’ve never touched anyone the way I touch you.’
She shook her head, trying to shake romanticism out of it and let reason in. She wanted to believe him but there was too much at stake.
‘I know I’m asking so much of you, but can you trust me? Just let me handle this and then I promise you, I’m yours. For good,’ Quinn said, linking his hand with hers.
‘Don’t say that unless you really mean it.’
‘Hand on my really small penis, cross my heart, hope to die.’
George shook her head and stifled a laugh.
‘Come on, we can do this. What we’ve got, it’s worth waiting for, isn’t it?’ he asked, raising her head with his hand.
‘Kiss me and I’ll let you know.’
Quinn moved his head towards hers and slowly, their lips met. She clung to his bare torso and pushed him back down to the sand.