Radio Gaga (13 page)

“It’s open.”

I followed the sound of Ben’s voice and found him in the kitchen.

“You’re just in time. I’m almost ready to dish up.” He smiled at me as I approached the stove.

He’d changed from his usual jeans into soft, stone coloured trousers. Instead of a tee shirt he wore a crisp white shirt.
A brave choice to eat spaghetti.
He’d rolled the sleeves back while he cooked. His feet were bare, and my breath caught in my throat that this gorgeous man had cooked supper for me. This clearly was not my life; any minute now it would all go wrong.

“Help yourself to wine.” He waved a spoon in the direction of an open bottle of red standing on the countertop.

I could see he’d already got a glass so I poured myself a generous measure.

“It smells delicious.” I took a sip of wine.

“Take a seat.”

My head was already dizzy from my phone call so I decided to go easy on the wine as I took my place at the table. Ben began to serve out our supper. I suddenly realised as he ladled out the pasta that he might not be as pleased about the call from the TV Company as I was.

“This was very nice of you to cook.” I hadn’t eaten since lunchtime when I’d had a rather dry sausage roll from the corner shop near the radio station.

Ben took his place opposite me. “I enjoy it, and spaghetti is pretty easy.”

My pulse speeded up as he smiled. Would it be so very wrong of me to simply enjoy the evening and not tell him about the TV company interview?

I dug into my meal and we chit-chatted about our day and Merv’s engagement.

“I was surprised when you said Tash had gone back to your parents?” She’d seemed so happy to be living with Ben I’d expected it to become a permanent arrangement.

Ben frowned as he twined his spaghetti around his fork. “Mum and Dad have had a tough time. They had all the worry when I was in the army and while I was recovering. Then there was the press attention afterwards when I spoke out. They didn’t know the extent of Tash’s problems until it was splashed all over the front of the Sunday papers.”

“And that was when the press were trying to get dirt on you?” I could understand Ben’s fierce hatred of fame and publicity.

He nodded. “Tash needed a break from Mum and Dad when she came to stay and they needed a break too. They’d been fussing and watching over her every move for months, they were so scared she’d fall off the rails. They meant well but it drove Tash crazy and my mum’s health isn’t good. She had cancer a few years ago; she’s in remission now but all the worry wasn’t helping.”

“So why has Tash gone back home now?”

“Now she’s been here for a few weeks Mum misses her, and they can see she’s settling down so they don’t have to worry so much. She’s going to stay a few days with them and see how it goes.” He picked up the wine bottle to top up my glass.

My good intentions to go easy on the wine vanished. “I’m glad she’s okay.” I liked Ben’s sister, she was good fun.

“How about you?
Any more problems with your stalker?”

Ben’s unexpected question made me cough on my mouthful of wine. Thankfully none of it landed on my borrowed top.

“I, um, found another poem when I got home.” Why have I never been much good at lying?

“You need to give it to the police. What did it say?” The humour left Ben’s eyes.

“Nothing much, just a terrible rhyme about being true and we’d be together one day.” I shrugged my shoulders and attempted to look nonchalant.

“Promise me you’ll hand it to the police.”

I crossed my fingers under the table. “Okay.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want to give the poem to the police but it would have to wait until I’d had my TV interview.

His brow lifted a little in surprise. I think he’d expected me to put up some kind of argument. Thankfully he let the matter drop and switched the conversation to telling me about some of the people he’d interviewed and photographed since he’d been working at The Gazette.

By the time we’d moved onto a rather delicious lemon cheesecake and coffee I was nicely mellow and relaxed. We migrated from the kitchen into the lounge and onto Ben’s leather sofa. Somehow this was different from the charged franticness of our previous encounter. I suppose we’d both had time to think about if getting together was what we wanted.

When Ben reached for me my pulse thudded in my ears. His lips claimed mine and all my senses sprang to attention. He tasted of coffee and lemon and I wanted more. This time I was prepared for the ridges of scar tissue crossing his chest and back when I slid my hand beneath his shirt.

I hated that someone had done this to him. He flinched slightly at my touch and at first I thought I’d hurt him.

“It’s okay. I’m just not used to someone seeing me like this.” His voice was low and ragged with emotion as he looked into my eyes.

“You look fine to me.” Relieved I hadn’t done something to give him any pain I kissed the scar running across his chest making him shiver beneath my touch. In response he unfastened the buttons on the front of my top. My nipples tightened under the flimsy lace of my bra.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” he murmured. I wished he would talk to me about the bomb and what had happened out in
Afghanistan
. It was as if part of him closed of from me whenever the subject came up.

I closed my eyes as he trailed kisses down my neck and onto my breast. All I knew was that I wanted to feel him next to me, skin to skin as if that connection would replace whatever else might be missing between us. Somehow we stumbled and fumbled our way from the sofa to his bedroom, losing the rest of our clothes and inhibitions along the way.

As we tumbled backwards together onto the cool softness of his bed I surrendered myself to sensation. Maybe this relationship was going somewhere and maybe it wasn’t, but at least I had now.

I woke next morning to the sound of the shower running. It took me a few minutes to realise I wasn’t in my own bed. The water stopped and Ben walked back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his hips. Droplets of water glistened on his bare shoulders and I pulled a pillow up behind my head to better appreciate my view.

“Morning, sleepy head.”
A slow smile spread across his face.

“Morning.”
It was stupid to be shy after what we’d done the previous night but even so unwanted heat spread across my cheeks.

He pulled open a drawer and pulled out some clothes, dumping them on the bed. I rolled onto my side, tugging the quilt with me to cover my boobs. I hoped he might rejoin me in bed.

“I made you some tea earlier, but it’s probably gone cold.” Ben started to dress.

Sure enough, a mug stood on the table next to the bed.

 
“Thanks.”

He tugged his jeans up his legs and fastened the zip. “Much as I would love to come home and find you still in my bed, I think your boss might object to you being here all day.”

Crap, I’d forgotten it was a work day. Ben dropped an amused kiss on the top of my head. Clutching the quilt to my bosom, I wriggled to the edge of the bed and retrieved my knickers from the floor. Ben fastened his shirt.

“I’ll make you a fresh mug of tea while you get dressed.”

He left me to sort myself out. Thankfully he’d gathered up my clothes from the hall and lounge and placed them on the bedroom chair. A quick look at my watch told me I was running late for the interviews I had booked. I managed a quick wash in Ben’s bathroom before dashing into the lounge to gulp a few mouthfuls of tea.

“I have to run.”

“What about breakfast?” Ben waved a slice of buttered toast at me.

I went to take it and he captured me with his free hand before planting a kiss on my lips that threatened to melt my bones.

“See you later.” Reluctantly I tore myself away and hurried downstairs to my flat munching my toast as I went.

Ten minutes later I ran out of the door in a clean set of clothes. There were five missed calls, two texts and a voicemail from Shelly on my phone, plus one from my mother. I’d have to look at them after I’d recorded my first interview or Merv would blow a gasket.

My first recording was an elderly lady who’d taught her budgie to sing the ‘Go Compare’ advert from the TV. It took thirty minutes of coaxing and “Who’s a pretty boy?” before he would oblige and I got the piece in the can.

I sprinted off to my second interviewee, a nice chatty lady who had lots to say about the local charity she worked for. Once I’d finished talking to her I was dying for a cup of coffee and ten minutes peace and quiet. Since it was unlikely that I’d get that back at the radio station I decided to grab a takeout coffee and sit in my car while I read my phone messages.

Shelly’s messages all wanted to know what had happened between me and Ben.

‘
wouldn’t
U like 2 know? Tell U l8r’

I was still grinning to myself when I pressed the button to listen to my mother’s message.

“Chloe, will you please answer your phone. I need to speak to you.”

Oh, well guess that told me! I took a swallow of my coffee whilst I plucked up the courage to ring her. All my nice happy, loved-upness had evaporated.

“Hello Mum.”

“Chloe, thank goodness.”

I wondered what had happened. “Is everything alright?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

I tried not to sigh near the phone and took another fortifying sip of coffee.

“You need to be fitted for your bridesmaid dress. I found a shop near you that stocks the one I’ve picked. I’ll be able to come and stay with you again in two weeks time for a couple of days, and we can get you fitted.
Sandy
has managed to find a stockist near her and has her appointment. I’ve emailed you a picture of the dress.”

I wasn’t sure which was worse, hearing she intended visiting again so soon, or that I was to be a bridesmaid, or that
Sandy
was already one step ahead. No doubt I’d end up in some hideously unflattering satin frock or the tartan number that haunted my dreams.

“Mum, are you sure you need to come? It’s a lot of trouble for you.”

“I’ll make the arrangements and see you in two weeks.”

An unexpected rap on my car window made me glad my coffee had a lid. Kevin beamed at me through my driver’s door window.

Cautiously, I cracked the glass open a tiny bit. “Hello Kevin, you made me jump.”

“I saw your car and thought I’d say hello.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that so I smiled and waited to see if he was about to own up to being my phantom poet.

“Are you going to Mr Hassan’s shop?” He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

“No, I’m at work, I have to take my recordings into the studio and do some paperwork.” Why would I want to go to Mr Hassan’s shop?

“You should see the posters he’s done. You look great,” Kevin grinned.

“Posters?”
I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“You and the snake.”

This did not sound good. “Thanks for telling me, I’ll check them out later. I really do have to go. Nice seeing you.” I gave Kevin a cheery wave and pulled away leaving him at the kerb.

Of course I drove straight round to Mr Hassan’s shop.

“Oh no!”
The windows of Mr Hassan’s shop were a lurid sea of red and yellow posters. Me in my yellow top with the snake around my neck and the legend in vivid red lettering, ‘Chloe ‘snake girl’ Lark shops here!’

I screeched to a halt and dashed inside the shop.

“Chloe!
You are very famous now you are on TV as well as radio.” Mr Hassan smiled happily at me. On the counter were a pile of fliers all with the same picture as the poster. “And you are very good for business.”

“Mr Hassan!” I was lost for words.

“There is no need to thank me. It was Imran’s
idea,
perhaps he is not so useless after all. I am delighted for you.
If you want to sign some of these that would be marvellous.
I will give them to special customers.”

For once I couldn’t speak. What on earth would Ben say?

I ended up signing fifty of Mr Hassan’s flyers. It would have been churlish not to, and he was always so nice to me. Plus, he presented me with a jumbo sized chocolate bar for my trouble. Imran lurked around the cornflake boxes while I signed my autograph. I kept catching glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye and I was sure he watched me when he thought I wasn’t looking.

As usual I was late getting back to the radio station. Steph had already left but Merv was still on the prowl.

“Bloody hell, Lark, where have you been?
I hope you got those interviews.”

Before I could answer he snatched my recorder from my shoulder and stomped off down the corridor.

“What’s he doing? I haven’t edited them or anything yet.”

The door to his office banged shut.

Tracey shrugged.
“Beats me.
He’s in an even fouler mood than usual today.”

I wasn’t sure if I should go after him and demand the recordings back or if I should leave him to it. He never normally got involved with my edits.

“I think there might be something going on between him and Steph. All is not well on that front if you ask me.” Tracey nodded her head sagely as she imparted this nugget of information.

Since Merv and Steph were known to fight like cat and dog this was hardly cause to ring Reuters.
Even if it did seem a bit soon after the engagement announcement.

“What am I supposed to do now he’s swiped my recordings?” In spite of the fact I stared a hole through it, Merv’s office door remained shut.

“I wouldn’t worry; he’ll probably dump them back on your desk when he’s recovered from his hissy fit.” She nudged me with her elbow. “You’re in demand today.”

I turned around to see Ben striding across the car park. Desire flooded through my body like a tidal wave.

“Ooh, someone’s got it bad.” Tracey teased as he pushed the door open and entered the reception area.

Conscious that my face had probably turned the same shade of crimson as Tracey’s dress I grabbed Ben’s elbow and tugged him out of her earshot.

“You didn’t say you were going to come here today.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at me. “Thought I’d surprise you, plus my boss wants me to see Merv.”

My pleasure that he’d taken time to come to see me at work diminished at the mention of Merv's name.

“Well good luck with that, he’s in a vile mood this afternoon.”

Ben’s shoulders rose in a small shrug. It was easy for him to ignore Merv’s prima donna tantrums; he didn’t have to work for him.

“Or is why you’re going to see him part of the reason why he’s throwing a strop?”

Ben flashed me one of his slightly irritating smug grins, dropped a kiss on my nose and walked over to Tracey to sign in as a visitor. Frustrated, I had to watch as he collected his pass and strolled off while Tracey beeped Merv to let him know Ben was on his way.

“You are so lucky,” Tracey sighed as we watched Ben enter Merv’s den.

After last night I was inclined to agree with her.

 
“Let me know when he comes out.”

Tracey agreed. Any happy feelings I had after seeing Ben disappeared when I entered the back office and saw my in-tray. I spent the next half an hour filing most of Steph’s suggestions in the bin before Tracey called to say Ben had emerged from Merv’s office.

I abandoned the paper mountain and scuttled out to the front desk where Ben was signing back out.

“Everything okay?”
I sidled up to him, hastily attempting to tidy my hair with my fingers.

He glanced up from the visitors' book.
“Fine.
What time will you be home?”

“Um, not sure, whenever I’m done here I suppose.” I was conscious of Tracey eavesdropping shamelessly on our conversation.

“Catch you later, then.” His lips met mine for a wonderful kiss that sent my knees to water and my brain to mush. It wasn’t until he’d left the building that I realised I hadn’t discovered the reason for his visit to Merv.

“That man is hot.” Tracey heaved a sigh. “When you get fed up with him, pass him my way.”

I didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. With my record it was much more likely that Ben would be the one to give up on me. And that would probably be around the time he popped down to Mr Hassan’s shop for a pint of milk and the paper.

Merv managed to dump my recordings, unedited, back on my desk while I was in the loo. I was none the wiser about why he’d taken them in the first place unless it was somehow connected to Ben’s mysterious visit. That didn’t seem likely though as I hadn’t told Ben what I planned to record. Knowing Merv he was probably checking that I hadn’t been skiving.

It was all too difficult to work out. I decided to give up and concentrate on getting the pieces prepped ready for Steph’s next show. Shelly called me as I finished the last segment.

“You owe me some goss.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”
I cringed at the hurt note in her voice. I’d totally meant to call her when I’d returned to the studios. “Meet me at the pub after work and we can catch up.”

“Okay, I’ve loads to tell you too.” The promise of a drink soon made her perk up.

“See you later, mine’s a white wine.” I didn’t plan on telling her everything about me and Ben but I reckoned I owed her some gossip. There was enough to tell her with Mr Hassan’s shop décor and the TV offer without having to spill much about my fledgling sex life.

When I finally reached the pub Shelly was already ensconced at our favourite table in the corner.

“What kept you? Your drink is getting warm.” Shelly pushed a glass of wine towards me as I took my seat.

“Sorry, I had to finish off all the crap that Steph had left for me.” I took a gulp of wine.

Shelly was practically vibrating on the edge of her seat with suppressed excitement. “Well? Come on I want to know everything.” She looked at my face. “Well, not quite everything, everything. Oh, you know what I mean.”

“Okay.” I took pity on Shelly and told her all about the phone call from the TV Company and Mr Hassan’s latest marketing ploy.

“What does Ben think about all this?”

Trust Shelly to voice the million dollar question.

“Um, he doesn’t know.”

She looked confused. “He doesn’t know about the TV thing, or he doesn’t know about Mr Hassan?”

I took another gulp of wine. “Neither.”

Shelly stared at me. “Don’t you think you should tell him? He doesn’t seem at all keen on you being famous, especially with that nutcase who keeps leaving you messages.”

“I know and I do want to tell him. It’s just never seemed quite the right moment and everything’s been going so well.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I see, things are going
that well are
they?
All the more reason to tell him.
Let’s face it; from the sound of it he’s hardly likely to miss Mr Hassan’s advertising.”

I swallowed the last of my wine. Shelly was absolutely right of course. I suppose I’d put off talking to Ben about the TV offer was because I couldn’t bear anything to go wrong so soon in our relationship.

 
Ben was the first decent boyfriend I’d ever had. All the other men in my life had lasted as long as a box of cheap tissues and been of less use. Neil had merely been the latest in a long list of crap men that I had known.

“I’ll talk to him. I’m seeing him tonight when I get home.” A heavy, sickness descended on my stomach and I regretted drinking my wine so fast.

Shelly smiled sympathetically. “I haven’t told you my news.”

I’d been so self-absorbed wondering what Ben might say I’d forgotten that Shelly had said she had gossip for me.

“Oh yes?” I asked, noting for the first time she had a definite sparkle in her eyes.

“I think I’ve met the one, you know, the man the fortune teller foresaw in my future.” She sighed happily and nibbled on a salt and vinegar crisp.

“The one in the blue uniform who was something to do with cats?”
I’d almost forgotten about the fortune teller’s prediction. I hoped that I was past the danger part of the predictions I’d been given. The woman who’d told my fortune had certainly been right about my life being turned upside down.

“That’s the one.”

“And?”
I hoped it was someone nice. Shelly’s luck with men was almost as bad as mine.

“His name is Carlos, he’s from
Puerto Rico
.” She delved in her bag and fished out her mobile. “Look, isn’t he gorgeous?” She flipped the screen onto her photo’s and showed me a snap of a good looking guy with dark brown eyes.

“Lovely.” I passed the phone back. “Where did you meet him?”

Shelly dropped the phone back in her bag. “It was so strange. I was at home. Mum had gone out and I’d been doing a few jobs around the house for her. The doorbell went and there was Carlos.”

“So, is he a postman?” I hoped he wasn’t the pizza delivery man. Not that there’s anything wrong with delivering pizza for a living.

“No. He’s the new window cleaner! He’s got a blue uniform and guess what the logo is on the side of his van?” Shelly beamed at me.

“A cat?”

“Yes!”

I spent another half an hour with Shelly listening to the wonders of Carlos before deciding to head back to my flat to face Ben. I left Shelly at the pub as Carlos had arranged to meet her and made my way across the car park to my car.

Normally I don’t spook easily but I guess with the mystery messages and the vandalism to Ben’s car I had become more nervous than usual. It was quite a nice evening but the only space free when I’d parked had been one at the back of the car park by the bins. The nearer I got to my car the more convinced I became that there was someone lurking in the shadows under the wall.

My pace slowed while I tried to think what to do. If someone came out and tried to grab me, could I outrun them? I’d never been any good at running and I’d missed too many gym sessions to count myself as fit. I fumbled in my pocket for my phone ready to call the emergency number if anyone did try pouncing on me.

I decided to try pretending I’d forgotten something as an excuse to turn around and scuttle back inside the safety of the pub. Making a great show of peering in my bag I made a swift U-turn and started briskly back to the bar. Sure enough I heard footsteps behind me and I speeded up.

The car park wasn’t that large but the entrance to the pub seemed miles away as I broke into a canter.

“Miss Chloe! Miss Chloe!”

I was almost at the door when I heard the voice behind me. To my surprise Imran, Mr Hassan’s nephew came puffing towards me. My heart was still racing like the clappers as he drew level with me.

“Miss Chloe, my uncle is wondering if you would do him the honour of appearing at his shop on Sunday morning.” His cheeks were flushed dark crimson.

“How did you know where to find me?” This was freaky.

“I was delivering flyers for the shop and I saw your car. I would have left you a note but then I saw you coming towards me.”

True, he did have a canvas satchel slung over his shoulder so he could be telling the truth. “That’s very flattering but I’m not sure if I’m free on Sunday.”

Usually I rolled up at Mr Hassan’s on Sunday lunchtimes in my oldest trakkie to get a paper and some chocolate. I’d never drawn a crowd before.

Imran looked disappointed. “My uncle would like it very much if you could make an appearance. There are many people who would like to meet you.”

While it would be nice to think that, I wasn’t terribly sure it was right. I was the backroom girl at a small town radio station. One brief TV appearance and a few column inches in the local press
wasn’t
really enough to turn me into the next Katie Price.

“I would also like it very much if you could do this for my uncle.” Imran added.

“I’m sorry, I’m really not sure. My boyfriend may not like it.” I hated using Ben as an excuse but this whole conversation had made me uncomfortable.

A strange expression flashed across Imran’s face. For a moment I thought he was angry.
 
“Very well.
If you change your mind please let me know so I can arrange for your fans to meet you.” He thrust a grubby piece of paper at me.

I tucked it in my bag without looking.
“Of course.”

He nodded his head and walked off leaving me quite shaken on the steps of the pub.