Georgia (50 page)

A swim apart, then back together again, hands searching for each other, lips drawn back like an addict for a drug.

Salty kisses, hair flapping like seaweed against their faces, skin that had lost the smooth warmth from the sun.

‘Let’s go back now,’ Rod said, taking her hand and walking up the beach.

A shower stood just inside the courtyard. They stood under it together, blasted by the icy water and Rod unfastened the top of her bikini, letting it drop to their feet. Next the pants, one tie on each hip until she stood naked under the jet of water, reaching out for his trunks to push them down his legs.

The towels lying in the sun were hot to the touch. Rod wrapped one round her, pressing himself against her, rubbing her back, flicking back the strands of wet hair from her face, kissing her again and again until she could see nothing but him.

A mattress still lay under the pergola where Georgia had retreated at midday to cool off. Rod led her there now, half carrying her, his lips on her neck and shoulders, breath hot and sweet.

Dappled sunshine filtered through the grapevine above them, the wind rustling the palm trees. Rod’s lips were on her breasts, her whole body arching towards him.

Ian had been gentle and sensitive. Max rough, experienced and compelling, but Rod was so sensuous she wanted to scream out how much he was pleasing her.

Stroking, biting, kissing and probing. He made her feel like a woman and she could barely wait for him to enter her. Surprise at the hardness and length of him. Shock that he could immerse himself so far into the act of love he barely knew it was her. His mouth devoured hers, his tongue fierce and yet loving. His hands on her buttocks squeezing, kneading, a steady rhythm that sent shock waves pulsating through every nerve-ending.

Georgia could feel her heart thumping, it was joyous and wonderful, mixed with a fear that it would be over too soon.

Perhaps Rod sensed it. He moved back from her, playing with her with his fingers, bringing her to the edge of an abyss again and again. She could stand it no longer. Grabbing his buttocks in her hands she pulled him to her, forcing him back inside her, head tossing from side to side, then reaching back to his mouth to kiss and bite him.

When she came it was like a roller-coaster in pitch darkness, stars shooting past her, falling, then rising each time higher and higher. A hot feeling, burning, sucking her into oblivion.

Georgia lay with her eyes closed, holding his head against her shoulder, fingers wound into his hair. Words of love were on her lips, but she was afraid he would laugh at her.

How many times had she come upon him, during or just after lovemaking? In dressing rooms, hotels, even in the van. The girls would look like she felt now, but Rod’s eyes were always cold and calculating. He was just a tom-cat with no finer feelings, he rarely even tried to protect his girls, often he made a sarcastic remark about them.

She felt him move away from her, taking his weight on his arms. Slowly she opened her eyes, fully expecting him to be looking around for a cigarette or a drink, already bored.

But instead he was looking down at her, narrow almost slanted eyes brimming with tears.

‘You are the most perfect woman in the world,’ he whispered.

No words were necessary. She lifted her arms and reached for him pulling his face down to her again.

‘I’d like to stay here forever,’ he said later that evening as he cooked her an omelette.

Georgia sat on a high stool at the breakfast bar. She had put on a red cotton housecoat with nothing underneath. He wore only a pair of faded denim shorts, his bare chest gleaming under the light above the cooker.

‘You wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘We’ve got no sounds, no car, there’s not even a bar for miles. What would we do all day?’

‘Play house,’ he grinned. ‘Make love all the time, go for walks, swim. I never thought I’d see the day when I dreaded the lads coming home.’

‘We’ve got tonight,’ she said softly. ‘They won’t come back now.’

‘Let’s pray they get arrested,’ he said turning the omelette onto a plate. ‘We won’t answer the phone, we’ll just let them languish in gaol.’

‘We’d better be careful,’ Georgia blushed at the need to discuss something like contraception in such a tender moment. ‘I don’t want to get pregnant.’

Rod pulled a packet out of his pocket.

‘I’m a regular boy scout,’ he grinned. ‘Sorry I didn’t have them with me this afternoon, but I didn’t expect to be seduced. Let’s just hope it isn’t too late!’

They ate by candlelight close to the fire. The wind had got up, shaking the palm tree and rattling the iron gates that led to the beach. The empty plates were left on the table, while Rod fed her black grapes picked from the vine in the courtyard. They drank more wine, made love again, and dozed by the fire.

Georgia woke first the next morning. Sunshine was creeping through the slats in the blinds, making stripes on Rod’s face and chest.

Ian had always slept curled up, one hand around his face like a small child, but Rod looked like a man. Flat on his back, arms and legs sprawled out, his angular face could have been carved from a piece of mahogany.

Her cheeks, chin and lips felt tender from the dark bristles which had sprouted up overnight on his chin. Her arms, thighs and breasts felt bruised and pummelled, but her heart was singing.

No remorse, no fear, guilt or worry. Every moment of last night was one to savour. She was happy.

When the phone rang later that morning Georgia stiffened. Jokes about the boys getting arrested were one thing, but she knew when Speedy and Norman went on the rampage it could happen.

‘How’s it going?’ Rod said quite casually, leaning nonchalantly against the wall blowing kisses at her. ‘What are we doing? Nothing much, just going down to the beach. When are you coming back?’

Silence while he listened.

‘Do we want to go to a party tonight?’ Rod shouted out to Georgia. She could see him shaking his head, not quite tough enough to admit to his friends he didn’t want to go. ‘The usual stuff, loads of crumpet, booze and loose living.’ Georgia shook her head. Rod grinned cheerfully.

‘No I don’t think we’ll bother. It’s nice doing nothing. No, we don’t care about the car. We’ll get a taxi if we want to go anywhere.’

Again a silence as Rod listened.

‘Okay we’ll meet you at the airport. We can pack your stuff for you and call a cab. Just don’t miss the plane, blockhead or Max will castrate you.’

He put the phone down and leapt out to where Georgia sat in the courtyard.

‘Our prayers were answered. They don’t want to come back here. They were feeling guilty because I was missing all the fun.’

She had never seen this side of Rod before. The boy in him that had been stamped out perhaps by his own mother. His eyes sparkled, his thin lips fuller. Once Rod would have refused to even make tea he was so full of arrogant chauvinistic ideas. Yet since they’d been alone he had cooked, washed up, even washed her hair and dried it. Now he was choosing to be alone with her, instead of rushing off to join more hedonistic pursuits.

‘So what’s going on?’ Georgia smiled. ‘Let me guess. They’ve pulled some birds?’

‘Partly. Speedy got chatted up by an older woman with pots of money. She’s a French film star, living in a fabulous Hollywood-style place along the coast from Lloret. Anyway they all went back there with her for drinks and she invited a bunch of English people she knows round, and it’s turned into a mini orgy of sex, drugs and rock and roll.’

‘Drugs!’ Georgia’s eyes flew open.

‘Only cannabis I think,’ Rod said airily. ‘Anyway they want to stay there. Speedy said this place was too isolated and the road so awful he didn’t fancy driving back to pick us up. I think he was relieved when I said we didn’t want to join them, perhaps he was scared I’d nick his tart.’

‘Would you?’ she laughed.

‘I’d be too frightened someone might nick you.’

Three days more of loving and being loved. An unspoken knowledge that maybe once they got back on the plane everything could change. Long hours walking along the beach, swimming, lazing and talking. No dressing up, nor fans interrupting the peace. In a capsule where gigs, money and other people couldn’t touch them.

Again and again Georgia looked for signs of his boredom. She had never known him able to even stay in one room for longer than an hour, he liked noise and confusion.

But there were no signs. When he flopped down on the beach he was totally relaxed, reaching out for her hand as if to reassure himself she was still with him. He told her more stories about his early youth, of meeting Ian and the others. Yet he never spoke of the future.

Hours and hours of lovemaking, made sweeter with the ending being so uncertain. But finally the last morning came and Georgia woke to find Rod standing by the bed with a cup of tea in his hand.

‘Time to go,’ he said. ‘I packed the boys’ things and booked a cab. We’ve got just an hour to say goodbye.’

‘Is that it then?’ she asked. His face was full of something she couldn’t quite define. Sadness certainly, but something more.

‘You know how it will be when we get back,’ he sat down beside her and put the tea into her hand. ‘The fans will be there, the press. We’ll revert to our usual ways.’

‘My usual ways would include you,’ she whispered. ‘Do you think I’ll change with the click of a camera?’

‘No girl, you won’t, but I will. The old flash Harry bit will come back. I’ll be chatting up birds because it’s the way I am. You’ll get pissy and before we know it will turn ugly.’

Somehow she knew he wasn’t telling her he didn’t care, rather that he cared too much to hurt her.

‘Are you always going to run from everything?’ she asked. ‘Because that’s what it is Rod, running.’

‘No my sweet,’ he turned and took her by the shoulders. ‘I could try and trap you now, get a commitment from you and you’d stick to it whatever happened. But I know I’m not the one for you, not deep down where it counts.’

‘Was all this for nothing then?’ She reached up and traced his tanned cheek-bones, ran one finger round his thin lips.

‘I wouldn’t call it nothing,’ he said looking right into her eyes. ‘We’ve given each other something special in these few days, not just our bodies. You’ve made me realize I can feel love. I’ve freed you from that bogey man of a father. Perhaps you don’t know it yet, but I have.’

He took her down to the beach later, kissed her again in the same spot where it all started and together they looked back up at the villa.

It was just nine in the morning, the sun barely rising above the palm tree. Through the iron gates they could see the cool courtyard with its splashes of purple, red and orange flowers. The white walls of the house almost a symbol of the peace they felt. The bedroom where they’d done so much of their lovemaking had the shutters wide open. The sheets white against the dark wood of the heavy oak bed.

‘We’re too much alike,’ he said softly. ‘We could get lost in a power struggle. We both need gentler people to complement us.’

She knew he was right, but it hurt so much. Here alone they could be everything to each other, but once the real world stepped in between them, with jealousy, greed and vanity it couldn’t be the same.

‘So we leave it here?’ she whispered.

‘Yes baby,’ his lips were against her hair, she felt his shoulders quiver and knew he was crying.

Chapter 19

January 1966

‘Fasten your seat belt sir,’ the red-haired stewardess leaned over to touch the black man’s hand lightly. He had slept for almost the entire flight from New York and now they were landing.

‘Sure was fast,’ he opened his eyes and sat up sleepily. ‘Don’t seem mor’an hour since I got on. I hope that’s England down there?’

‘It is,’ she smiled, more at his delightful Southern drawl than his little joke. ‘Good old wet, cold London. Is it your first visit?’

‘First time in such comfort, ma’am,’ he smiled showing gleaming white teeth. ‘I was here last during the War.’

‘Well you’re gonna find a few changes,’ she said. ‘The only thing the same is the weather.’

‘Sleeping Beauty’s awake at last.’ Sonia buckled herself into her own seat and smirked at Muriel her dark-haired friend on the seat next to her. ‘If only they all slept like that our job would be easier.’

‘Did you find out about him?’ Muriel enquired. It had been an uneventful flight and they had spent much of the time playing guessing games with each other about the passengers. The sleeping black man was the most intriguing because he’d given nothing away about himself.

‘I reckon he’s going to see a woman. But I could hardly ask him, could I?’

Most of the passengers were business men. Smart, seasoned travellers who either drank themselves into a stupor to relieve the boredom of the long flight, or put on their glasses and studied files and papers as if they were still in their office. No mystery with any of them, some of them flew backwards and forwards across the Atlantic like commuters.

There was a young couple near the rear of the plane who they guessed were newly married. The way they held hands, dozed on each other’s shoulders and wrapped themselves up in each other was a sure sign. There were three younger men, travelling alone. Students, judging by their desert boots, jeans and thick sweaters, presumably running short of money as they only accepted free drinks.

Two blue-rinsed American ladies visiting their offspring in England. Five middle-aged couples who’d spent Christmas in New York. But it was the odd balls on the flight who gained the girls’ real interest.

Could that nasty little weed from Dallas be a dealer in pornography? Was the woman in a shabby coat with the huge frightened eyes a runaway nun? And was the group of couples from Philadelphia really on a church mission? Wasn’t it more likely they had heard about swinging London and they just wanted a slice of the action?

The black man had a magnetic presence. Something that invited curious glances. Although he had spoken to no one, they sensed this was from being caught up in his own thoughts rather than unfriendliness. His clothes were old, but they had style. A leather officer’s flying jacket with a fur collar, dark green cord trousers and a checked, warm-looking shirt, faded around the collar. Just the confident way he moved, looked and spoke gave a feeling that he was someone special, even if he had no money.