Yours Remotely

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 18

When I woke up, it was still dusky. A faint light flowed into the room through the window, and I saw that Gary was no longer in bed. I sat up and saw his outline at the dining table.

At some point during the night, I had got back into my underwear. I picked my longline top off the floor and got into it. Then I walked across the cool floor over to Gary.

“Gary?” I asked when I reached him. He hadn’t realised I had woken up and turned around on the bench to face me.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied to the question I hadn’t yet asked.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw the bottle of wine I had bought on the table with a massive glass that was completely unsuitable for wine.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, swallowing the disappointment trying to cloud my mind. I had wanted to share that bottle of wine with Gary, possibly use some of it for cooking. I didn’t want him to drink it on his own as a sleeping aid or whatever he was drinking it for.

He took the glass, twisted it in his hands and took a swig. Then he turned back towards me. “That boyfriend of yours.”

For a moment, I had no idea who he was talking about. Then, when I realised that he was talking about Joe, I wondered why he wanted to talk about him. The sick hope that Gary might be jealous formed in my head.

“What about him?”

He looked away again. “He won’t tell anyone, will he?”

The cruel hand of disappointment strangled my throat. Of course he wasn’t jealous. Why would he be? After all, to him, I wasn’t the only woman in the world. He just wanted to be sure that nobody knew about me. As if it would matter. The public would be interested for a while, yes, but they’d forget it quickly.

“He won’t,” I muttered, “I asked him not to, and he said he wouldn’t.”

“And can he be trusted?”

Even in the dark of the room, I realised that there was a plea in Gary’s eyes.

“Yes.”

There was a lump in my throat. I couldn’t believe that this was Gary’s only reaction to Joe’s existence.

“You must have asked nicely.” Gary’s voice held a note of relief and the slight stutter of someone who’s been drinking.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” If he ever had been. I sounded bitter.

Gary nodded. “So I gathered.”

His nonchalant behaviour and selfishness made my eyes well up and my hands curl into fists. I wanted to say something that would hurt him. “He’s your fan. A The Remotes fan.”

Was this the worst I could think of?

“Ouch,” Gary responded sympathetically before grabbing his glass again. Was this how much he cared about his fans too?

I chewed on my lip. There was no point making a big song and dance about it. I knew how limited Gary’s feelings for me were. It was stupid of me to expect him to be bothered by me having a boyfriend. I decided to ignore what had happened and to pretend the conversation had never taken place.

“You should come to bed.” I imagined a white flag above my head.

Gary ran both hands through his hair. Although I couldn’t see his face properly, it was clear that he was exhausted. He turned on the bench to face me, leaned his elbow on the edge of the table and his head in his hand.

“Women. They all just want the one thing.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“If you come too,” Gary interrupted and reached a hand towards me, expecting me to help him up.

I took his hand and led him to bed. He was so tired that he didn’t even try to pull me to bed with him. When I got over to my side, he was already half asleep.

* * *

I woke up a couple of hours later. Gary was still fast asleep. It was cool in the cottage, so I got into my jeans and put socks on. I flicked the kettle on and sat down at the table with my cup of tea.

Gary had left less than half of the wine, and his glass was empty. I had never thought him a wine drinker, and I definitely hadn’t thought he would drink in the middle of the night. Was there something I didn’t know about him and even something that nosey reporters didn’t know?

I decided to leave it be. He said he couldn’t sleep. A glass of wine – or a few – was sure to help catch some Zs.

After I had my tea and did my morning toilette, Gary still showed no signs of waking up. I decided to go out for a walk. It was nine o’clock and sunny outside. I put the key in my jeans pocket and went out.

The air was fresh and cool. The fields further away were enshrouded in mist. I headed towards reception in the direction we had come from. On the way, I spotted a nature trail heading to the right. I looked at the map of the area and picked a route of acceptable length. I started following the path sign-posted by green arrows.

It was quiet on the trail. I only met a couple whose Spaniel-cross ran over to me with an enthusiastically wagging tail. Further afield, I spotted some young people practically crawling up the side of a hill.

When I had made my way to the top of a much gentler slope, I sat down on a wooden bench to admire the scenery. It was a beautiful day, and below me, I could see the national road and a small village – probably the one we had stopped at the night before. I was starting to understand why Gary had happily driven all the way to Scotland for some peace and quiet.

My hands searched for my phone in my pockets, but I realised that I had left it at the cottage. Better off – after all, who was going to need me so badly that they couldn’t wait a couple of hours?

Taking my time, I started my descent down the other side of the hill, back towards the start of the trail. It was almost half-past 11 when I reached the end of it and I started walking back towards the cottage. I began planning what I was going to have for breakfast. My walk had made me ravenous.

The silence of the road was broken by a loud engine sound approaching from the bend behind my back. The vehicle in question was moving at a good speed, so I stepped aside to avoid being run over.

A couple of seconds later, a red sports car stopped in the middle of the road, sending pebbles flying in all directions.

Gary opened the passenger side window to talk to me.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked when I caught up to him. “I’ve looked everywhere for you.”

“I just went for a walk,” I said defensively and peeked inside the car.

“Out here? You could have got lost. I tried to call you, but you didn’t have your phone on you.”

“Where did you think I had gone?”

“You could have told me.”

“You were asleep.” What right did Gary have to demand knowing where I had spent the last couple of hours when I often didn’t know where he was for months at a time?

“Get in.”

“I’ll walk, thank you,” I said and continued towards the cottage. I wanted him to get angry. I wanted him to have worried.

“Lea. Get in,” he shouted after me.

“Why don’t you walk?” I spat, walking on in a determined manner.

I was surprised to hear the engine stop. A few seconds later, Gary showed up next to me and grabbed my arm.

“Lea, please. Don’t be difficult.” Although his eyes were on my face, I knew he was keeping an eye on his surroundings, like a rabbit ready to pounce when danger approaches.

He looked so ridiculously like a rock star when standing in the middle of a quiet country road that I struggled to keep a straight face. His bicoloured hair pointed up towards the skies, and he had pushed his sunglasses onto his forehead. He was dressed in his trademark black leather jacket, and underneath I could see a sliver of a studded belt looped through the top of his jeans. He looked tired and like he was reluctantly about to give in.

“Just get in, please.” He didn’t wait but returned to his car.

Maybe he had heard an approaching car because when I grudgingly followed him and sat down, a van came around the corner, its passengers gaping at Gary’s car and almost stopping at it for a better look.

When he turned the engine back on, I glanced at him again. I could see the dark circles under his eyes, and I thought his eyes were bloodshot.

“You shouldn’t be driving,” I pointed out when the car moved off.

“f**k off,” he responded. His tone wasn’t insulting but amused.

* * *

Back at the cottage, Gary stopped me when I was just in the door.

“Lea, don’t ever do that again.”

“Do what again?” I asked, getting out of my cardigan.

“Disappear like that. I was worried. Something could have happened, and I can’t run around looking for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to look for me.”

He sighed loudly. “Just promise that you won’t do it again.”

I moved to the dining table and raised the wine bottle. I had a reason to be angry too.

“I had thought we could share this or that I could use some of it for cooking.”

Gary looked guilty and turned away. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Is that my fault?”

“Of course it’s not your fault.” He seemed fed up with the whole thing. He rubbed his face with his hands. “It’s everything else – the new single, the tour, your boyfriend, being here…”

“It was your idea to come to Scotland. You could just as well have booked a hotel room in London.”

“I can’t even yawn in London without seeing it in the papers the following day.”

“Maybe you could try to look a little less like a rock star. You wouldn’t attract so much attention.”

“What are you trying to say?” He frowned, looking offended.

I knew I was about to open a can of worms, but I had gone too far to stop.

“You drive an expensive car, always dress in a leather jacket and sunglasses, you always have an unusual haircut. No wonder people follow you. You make it easy.”

I sat down at the table. I glanced at Gary from the corner of my eye. He was still standing next to the table. His face glowed with miscomprehension, as if he hadn’t realised that he acted differently from other people.

There was a hint of worry in his voice when he said, “But you have to admit that you like it.”

In fact, I didn’t like it. I would have preferred Gary not being a rock star. Or would I? It was nice to see inside the music business, to spend a free weekend in Scotland and to know that thousands of women envied me even though they didn’t know I existed. On the other hand…

“You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” He was looking for confirmation.

“I guess not,” I said, twiddling my thumbs.

He leaned his backside on the edge of the table and observed me. He looked shattered and fed up of our bickering.

“I’m sure there’s at least one thing you like about me being a rock star.”

I looked at him expectantly.

“Women always want to sleep with rockers.”

“Do they now?” It was no news to me. I didn’t even want to think about all the women that constantly buzzed around him.

Gary narrowed his eyes at me. “Of course they do, but do you know why?”

“Would it be because rockers are easy prey?”

“Is that what you think?” Gary crossed his arms. “You’ve no idea how much trouble some women go to.”

I stared at him for a moment without blinking. He stared back and then rubbed his tired eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ve heard that some women try very hard. They go to so much trouble because it’s worth it.”

“How would they know?” I asked.

“It’s our reputation.” Gary grinned, back to his confident self. “Everybody knows that rock stars are great lovers.” He stuck a hand out towards me. “Just in case you’ve forgotten since last night…”