Strings Attached (34 page)

‘You don’t have to have canapés,’ George reminded him.

‘Don’t I?’

‘No. I mean we can buy whatever you like. After all, it’s your party and you’re paying for it,’ George told him.

‘I’ve never had a choice before.’

‘I don’t know! Never been shopping, never choosing what you want to eat. Today’s full of firsts for you isn’t it?’ George said.

‘Are you laughing at me?’

‘No, of course not,’ George said unable to stop herself from letting out a laugh.

‘You want a trolley?’ Quinn asked.

‘Yes please.’

‘And I suppose you want me to push.’

‘Well you can if you want to give it a try. But it might need experience, particularly if it has a dodgy wheel,’ George replied.

‘Experience huh?’ Quinn said, collecting a trolley and bringing it over.

‘Yeah. There’s a knack to it,’ George continued.

‘OK, well how about I drive and you navigate,’ Quinn said.

As quick as a flash, he picked George up and hurled her into the trolley.

‘Quinn! Don’t be stupid! Quinn! Get me out!’ George screeched as Quinn set off, pushing the trolley down the aisle at top speed.

‘I like shopping. I’m going to do it more often,’ Quinn replied, laughing as he turned a corner and the trolley reeled to one side.

‘Get me out of here or I swear I’ll
...
’ George began.

‘Or you’ll what?’
Quinn asked, stopping the trolley and looking at her.

‘I’ll make you something really disgusting to eat tonight. Something vile. The most vomit inducing meal I can think of,’ George told him.

‘Is that the best you’ve got?’

‘I’ll tell the press you have a really, really, small penis,’ George threatened.

‘Ouch! But you know they would never believe it. OK you got me. Come on, out you come,’ Quinn said, helping George jump from the trolley.

She brushed her t-shirt down and let out a sigh.

‘Hey, come on. It was funny. These carts are great! Everyone was looking at us, like they’ve never seen anyone do that before,’ Quinn asked.

‘You say that like it’s a good thing,’ George replied.

‘Come on. I’m a condemned man. Let me have a little fun,’ Quinn told her.

George didn’t reply.

‘Don’t be mad. Are you mad with me?’ Quinn wanted to know.

‘No, I’m not mad with you,’ she began.

She paused, took a breath and held his eyes with hers.

‘I’m falling in love with you,’ she finished.

Quinn looked at her, seeing the expression of sincerity and sadness in her eyes. She looked to the floor, now feeling embarrassed and vulnerable. She had told him how she felt. It had crept up on her. She had held the emotion back as hard as she could, but there was no stopping it now. He made her feel like no other man ever had, in every way imaginable.

‘I’m not falling in love with you George,’ Quinn spoke, raising her head with his thumb and making her look at him.

George swallowed.

‘I’m already there. And I’ve been there a long time,’ Quinn told her.

He pushed her back against the shelves of long life juice and kissed her, firmly and passionately, in front of every shopper in the vicinity. His hands were at the waistband of her combats, her fingers were under his t-shirt, running along the ridge of his spine. For a second, neither of them cared who could see.

‘
Disculpe. El jugo de manzana,
’ a male voice spoke.

George hurriedly let go of Quinn and looked at a little old Spaniard in front of her.

‘He wants to get to the apple juice,’ Quinn spoke gently pulling George towards him and giving the shopper access to the shelf.

‘Oh! Sorry! I mean – shit. What’s Spanish for
“
sorry
”
?’ George questioned.

‘
Perdón
senor.
Listen, I’m glad you told me you know - how you feel,’ Quinn said, holding her hands.

‘It doesn’t change anything though does it? We’re going to be living separate lives in a few days.’

‘That doesn’t mean we’re separated,’ Quinn told her.

‘Doesn’t it? Me on one side of the world, you the other - with a wife,’ George spoke.

‘I can’t change that right now, you know that.’

‘No Quinn, I don’t know that, because you won’t tell me why you’re doing it. Why you’re really doing it. I can’t believe you’re getting married, pledging yourself to someone, because someone else wants you to,’ George continued.

‘You don’t understand.’

‘No, I know I don’t. Because you won’t tell me the full story.’

‘It’s hard George.’

‘You say you love me.’

‘I do love you.’

‘Then you should tell me.’

‘I haven’t told anyone. Not one person, ever. If it got out then
...
’ Quinn said, taking a deep breath.

He was starting to perspire and his face was reddening.

‘Don’t you trust me?’ George asked.

‘Of course I do.’

‘Then...
’

‘Look, I need more time,’ Quinn said, shifting from one foot to the other.

‘We don’t have more time
,
you’re getting married the day after tomorrow.’

‘I can’t talk about it now,’ Quinn said, rubbing his forehead.

‘Do you owe Roger money?’ George wanted to know.

‘I wish it was that simple,’ Quinn spoke, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

‘Are you OK?’ George asked him.

‘No, I think I’m going to...
’ Quinn began.

His sentence was cut short as his knees buckled and he collapsed on the floor.

‘Quinn - HELP! Please, someone, HELP! Shit! What’s the Spanish for
“
help
”
?’ George shouted frantically.

Thirty

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? Y
ou 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 st
r
and 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.’