Escape for the Summer (42 page)

You know exactly why you said you’d go
, said the annoying voice of conscience, piping up just when she least wanted it to, as per bloody usual.
You wanted to show Jonty that he isn’t the only person out and about having a good time.

Well, yes, Andi admitted. But he’d dropped her like a hot brick as soon as his ex appeared. She knew that she and Jonty were only friends but, even so, it was hurtful. One minute he’d been arranging another trip out on
Ursula,
the next she’d hardly seen him for dust. Maybe it was a childish reaction but she’d wanted to show him that she could have fun too. And that was one thing you could say about Travis Chumley: he liked to have fun. He’d also been very persistent in trying to make amends since their boating disaster and, in spite of herself, she was flattered.

Picking out a funky green smock dress which she paired with black leggings and her chunky DM sandals, Andi pinned her curls onto the top of her head with a butterfly clip and, since her own Mademoiselle had mysteriously vanished, borrowed a squirt of Angel’s Alien perfume. The bottle looked a bit like a Transformer and the smell was certainly out of this world. Rather than the gentle floral notes she was used to, this perfume was woody and eastern and yelled
I’m Here!
It was about as subtle as a smack in the face and totally unlike her, which was probably a good thing. Going on a date with a millionaire she didn’t fancy in the least wasn’t much like her either.

Oh dear. Was it too late to back out?

“You look nice,” said Gemma when Andi ventured back into the living area. Callum had vanished and she was up to her armpits in washing-up, looking like she was at an Ibiza foam party. “Are you off somewhere?”

Andi grimaced. “I think I’m going to live to regret this, but I gave in and said I’d have dinner with Travis.”

Gemma’s eyebrows shot up into her blonde fringe.

“But you can’t stand Travis! Especially after the other day!”

“I know, I know,” groaned Andi. “Not my brightest move ever. But I really fancied a change of scene and when Travis suggested a night in Newquay it seemed like a good idea.”

“And it is,” said Gemma quickly. “You work far too hard. It’s about time you had some fun. And that’s one thing I will say for Travis – he is fun.”

Andi wasn’t convinced. Half drowning your friends wasn’t exactly what she would call fun. On the other hand, at least there was no subtext with Travis. He was the definition of superficial and seemed to just live for fun. Jonty, she’d noticed, had shadows in his eyes and a tension about him, like a leopard poised to pounce. There was something on his mind, she was certain of this, but he didn’t seem willing to share whatever it was that was burdening him. Not that she could talk. Andi hadn’t mentioned Tom to anyone. Sometimes she recalled his threats and felt sick; at other times she would dream about his mocking laughter and wake up with a pounding heart. There was nothing he could do – he didn’t even know where she was – but thinking this didn’t make her feel any easier. So Andi chose to treat thoughts of Tom a bit like Angel treated her bank balance: if she didn’t dwell on them then they couldn’t make her feel bad.

“Where’s Callum?” she asked.

“I’ve got a rehearsal at half five and Cal couldn’t hide out here forever. He’s gone back to face the music.” Gemma looked worried. Her top teeth bit her bottom lip. “It doesn’t look good. I really think he could lose his ITV2 contract over this.”

Andi was about to ask Gemma exactly what was going on with her and Cal, but the sight of a big black Range Rover pulling up outside the caravan halted the conversation. Moments later the horn was blaring; a naff cacophony of notes that Del Boy would have been proud of.

Gemma grinned. “Your knight in shining car awaits!”

Andi shouldered her Quiksilver rucksack and took a deep breath. It was too late to back out now. She really was going to Newquay with Travis Chumley. She hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it.

Two hours later and seated at a window table in one of Newquay’s premier restaurants, Andi’s desire to see Fistral Beach was certainly fulfilled. It was a beautiful golden evening. The sinking sun stroked the sea with liquid gold fingers and turned the surfers into silhouettes against the peachy sky. Although it was growing late, the sand was still teeming with beachgoers, some playing frisbee, others sprawled out on stripy towels and a few happily barbecuing. All the people looked tanned and outdoorsy and just like they’d stepped straight out of a Fat Face advert, Andi thought. She wished that she was outside too, curling her bare toes into the cool sand and breathing in the tang of sausages and charcoal rather than sitting here at a starched white table, trying to decipher a menu written in inaccessible French and listening to Travis berate the maître d’ about the cheap price of the restaurant’s lobster.

She’d listened to him all the way from Rock to Newquay. On and on he’d gone, showing off about his Range Rover, his expensive watch and his big new house in Spain. She’d listened with half an ear, making sounds of assent at appropriate intervals and wishing more and more with every mile they drove that she’d stayed put. Andi had felt like yelling at Travis to put a sock in it, and telling him that she didn’t care how loaded he was or how many houses he owned; she couldn’t tell a Rolex from an Omega, and neither did she care much for lobsters and Cristal. Travis was going all out to impress her, that was for sure, but he was going about it the wrong way completely: these things didn’t impress her at all. He’d be far better off with Angel.

“So, what would you like?” Travis was asking. His white Boss shirt blended in so well with the tablecloth that it was a bit like talking to a disembodied head. “You can order whatever you like, you know; cost isn’t an issue to me. Besides, my father owns this place.” He put his menu down and smiled at her. “I thought I’d have the foie gras followed by the lobster with black caviar. Still, I’m not sure about the price. It seems a little on the low side. They’d better not be cutting corners.”

If Travis’s blatant showing off hadn’t already made her feel queasy, the thought of all those poor geese being force-fed until their livers popped certainly sickened her. Andi shut her menu and placed it on the table with a thump. Travis, still moaning about lobster, looked up in surprise.

“I can’t do this.” Andi pushed back her chair and stood up. “It’s a mistake.”

Travis stared at her. “What? The food? Are you a vegetarian or something? That’s not a problem. My father owns this hotel. They’ll cook whatever you want. They’ll do anything we like. Just name it.”

And this summed him up in a nutshell, thought Andi in disgust. A spoiled, rich brat.

“I couldn’t eat a mouthful while listening to you complain and moan and show off,” she said coldly. “You should listen to yourself, Travis. Who on earth do you think you are? Just because a quirk of fate means that you were born to a rich father doesn’t mean that you’re any better than the rest of us. If you didn’t have any money what would you actually be?”

Travis’s cockatiel crest seemed to wilt under her onslaught. He opened his mouth to speak, but Andi wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.

“I don’t care about your Rolex, or your chalet in Aspen, or how many sports cars you have in the garage, or how fast your speedboat goes,” she told him. “And I certainly couldn’t care less about bloody lobsters.” For a moment she thought about Jonty, how down to earth he was with
Ursula
and his battered Defender. She wished so much that she was here with him, munching chips on the harbour wall and chatting about everything under the sun, that it felt like a physical pain in her chest. Jonty was brassic but she didn’t need money to have a fantastic time
with him. Just hanging out together was more than enough.

“Calm down, Andi,” said Travis, glancing about the restaurant in embarrassment. “You don’t have to have lobster. You can have anything you like.”

“It’s not about the lobster!” Andi cried. I’d rather eat chips out of newspaper than eat here with you. I can’t listen to you brag and show off for another second.”

Travis looked mortified. “Andi, please sit down! I can explain,” he said, and there was a catch in his voice, which would have touched her if he hadn’t spent the last few hours being so totally obnoxious. He reached across the table and touched her arm imploringly. “Please? I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. That was never my intention. I was trying to make up for what happened the other day!”

Now it was Andi’s turn to stare. That was his idea of making up? She hoped Travis never applied for a career in the diplomatic service.

“Please?”

In spite of herself, she sat back down and regarded him across the bone china and silver cutlery.

“Thanks,” said Travis. Then he exhaled and all the swagger and bounce seemed to deflate him, like air leaving a balloon. He gave her an apologetic smile. “I thought you were about to walk out on me.”

She had been, and she still hadn’t abandoned the idea entirely. She was sure she could scrape together enough funds for a taxi home. To be honest she’d even walk if it meant escaping this dinner date from hell.

“I’m sorry if you thought I was being a show-off,” Travis said quietly. “It’s just that I was so nervous of being with you. I wasn’t sure quite what to say or do. When I’m nervous I turn into an arse. I’m sorry, I just can’t help it.”

“Nervous? Of me?” Andi was taken aback. “Why on earth would you be nervous of me?”

Travis coloured. “Apart from the fact that you’re probably the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met and I think you’re absolutely wonderful? Where else can I start? You’re obviously blisteringly intelligent, that goes without saying, and highly principled.”

Andi, reeling from his opening comment, was totally thrown.

“Principled?”

“Yes, absolutely. I can’t claim to understand it myself; I suppose I am a spoiled brat.” He shrugged ruefully. “But the way you choose to live in that caravan with your friend and do things the hard way? That’s something else. I’m impressed that you do that when you could be living in the lap of luxury with your family. Is it some kind of eco thing?”

“Travis,” said Andi kindly, “what are you talking about?”

“You, not living at the big house with Angel,” Travis explained earnestly. “Christ, I’ve seen your family’s boat! It’s awesome. Even my old man would think twice about shelling out for that. Of course I was nervous. I wanted you to think that I was good enough to take you out. I bet you’ve been out with some really loaded guys.”

Angel. Of course. Andi could have swung for her little sister. Now it all made sense. Travis was best friends with Laurence, for whose benefit Angel had been exceedingly busy all summer creating the impression that she was loaded and lived in the Alexshovs’ house. Quite how she explained her lack of Russian was anybody’s guess, but Andi wasn’t surprised she’d managed it; when Angel put her mind to something she generally got it. No wonder Travis had been showing off all the way to Newquay. He thought she was an oligarch’s daughter. Recalling her bank balance, Andi started to laugh.

“What’s funny?” Travis sounded hurt. “What did I say? Is it that I can’t compete?”

Andi shook her head. She still couldn’t stop laughing. The situation was totally ridiculous.

“Why would you even need to compete?” she said, once the laughter subsided.

Travis shrugged. “Habit, I guess. Years of having the shit kicked out of me at public school by a load of sadistic toffs because Dad’s in trade and I say ‘tea’ not ‘supper’ and have a northern accent. The only thing I had over them was shedloads of cash – most of the landed gentry are broke – and I guess the habit’s stuck with me.”

“Hence the boat, and the cars and the bling,” finished Andi. It all made a bit more sense now. She looked at him, so crestfallen and slumped against the table, and suddenly saw beneath all the swagger and expensive toys the schoolboy who’d been teased. God, kids were cruel. She remembered that much from her own miserable time at boarding school.

He nodded. “Without it I’m just an oik.”

“Well, that makes me one too then, because I’m stony broke,” Andi said cheerfully.

Travis frowned. “I don’t understand. How can that be true, when Angel’s so loaded? Do you have different dads or summat?”

If only
, thought Andi. Right now she was ready to divorce her sister, but she’d given up on Alex Evans years ago. Andi knew she was about to blow her sister’s cover but was way beyond caring.

“Angel isn’t loaded,” she said gently. Travis, waving away the waiter, looked puzzled. Taking a deep breath, Andi began to explain exactly what her sister’s circumstances were. She had to admit, it didn’t sound great – and she couldn’t help remembering Jonty’s scathing comments about gold-diggers. Much as she loved her sister, Andi knew that Angel had been misguided at best and deliberately deceitful at worst, and she felt ashamed. Why on earth hadn’t she tried harder to steer her little sister in the right direction? Stopping the Severn Bore in mid-flood was probably easier but, even so, she should have at least given it a try. Mum had asked her to look after Angel and she hadn’t done a brilliant job so far. Even to her own ears, her sister sounded selfish and shallow and mercenary.

But Travis didn’t look at all upset to learn that his best friend had been totally duped. In fact quite the opposite: with every word that Andi spoke the grin on his face grew wider. By the time she came to an embarrassed halt he was shaking with mirth.

“What can possibly be funny?” Andi asked, put out. She was feeling terrible.

Travis shook his head. “Andi, you are not going to believe this! It’s absolutely priceless! Laurence and your sister are a match made in heaven. He’s as broke as she is!”

Now it was Andi’s turn to be confused. “I thought he was a viscount? And what about his big house here and his car?”

“He is,” Travis grinned, “but he’s a skint one. The house in Rock and the car are both mine. Loz might have the titles and the estate but he hasn’t got a pot to piss in. He’s been trying to find ways to make cash, but he’s only really any good at being lord of the manor. When
Made in Chelsea
rejected him there was only one solution – he needed to find a rich wife.”