Johnny Be Good Read online

  ‘Er, yes, I–I know,’ I stammer.

  ‘Well, put it somewhere else, then, a public bin or something. Just make sure no one sees you.’

  I turn to walk out of the room.

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ she erupts. ‘Give it here.’

  I turn back around. Now I’m really confused.

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘You can’t bloody bin them, can you? Now you’ve been papped having a cosy dinner at the Ivy with my fucking boyfriend, the fucking journalists will think they’re your pregnancy tests. And I don’t trust you to dump them without being seen.’

  I stand there in a stupor for a moment. I decide not to point out that I’ve already been to the chemist and bought them for her. I don’t think anyone saw me.

  ‘Give them here!’ she snaps, impatiently, roughly grabbing the bag from out of my arms. ‘Stupid,’ she adds under her breath.

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t even have the energy to tell her not to talk to me like that.

  ‘Leave, now,’ she instructs me.

  I look at her in alarm, then turn and walk out.

  ‘And clean up Footsie’s shit outside the laundry!’ she shouts after me.

  I grudgingly deal with Footsie’s accident, mind ticking over ten to the dozen. I can still hear music coming from Johnny’s studio, but as soon as it stops I assume Serengeti is responsible.

  I listen at the foot of the stairs for a moment, but all is quiet. Then, as I turn to walk into the kitchen to make myself a tea, I hear Serengeti’s raised voice. Soon it turns into full-on screaming.

  I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Johnny’s voice is raised, too. I try to tear myself away and not eavesdrop, when suddenly I hear the studio door open and slam shut upstairs. Johnny stomps down the stairs looking absolutely furious. His eyes are hard as they meet mine and he holds my stare for all of three seconds before he turns right at the bottom and walks out through the front door. I stand there, unsure what to do next, then go to the front door myself. Moments later I see his motorbike zoom out of the front gates at high speed.

  I go back inside.

  The door to the studio is shut, and from the sight of Footsie sitting outside it on the landing, I’m assuming Serengeti is still inside. I go back through to the kitchen, heart pounding.

  Serengeti doesn’t come down again, so I feed Footsie and sit in the living room in front of the flatscreen TV, on full alert. There’s no point in me leaving Footsie alone and going upstairs to watch telly in my bedroom. I don’t know if Serengeti is going to make an appearance anytime soon.

  Johnny rings me at eight o’clock.

  ‘Hi!’ I say.

  ‘Is she still there?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you get me a table at the Lounge?’

  ‘What, now?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, now,’ he tells me.

  ‘Sure thing.’

  ‘Tell them I’ll be there in ten. Better put me plus five down on the guest list.’

  ‘Will do,’ I answer. He hangs up.

  ‘Was that Johnny?’ Serengeti calls from the top of the stairs. ‘What did he want?’

  I walk to the bottom of the stairs to talk to her. ‘He wanted me to make him a reservation at the Lounge.’

  ‘What, at the Standard?’

  ‘Yes, the one on Sunset Boulevard.’

  ‘Yes, I know where the Lounge is, Meg,’ she says, condescendingly. Then she goes into Johnny’s room and slams the door shut behind her.

  He calls me again just after eleven, asking me to put him on the guest list for Bar Marmont.

  ‘Johnny, are you alright?’

  ‘I’m fine, Nutmeg.’

  ‘You’re not still riding your bike, are you?’

  ‘Meg, I told you, I’m fine. Is she still there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Once again Serengeti ventures out of Johnny’s room for an update, and once again she goes back inside.

  The next time he calls is at two o’clock in the morning. I’m in bed by this stage.

  ‘The Viper Room, Meg. Table for…How many?’ I hear him ask someone. A girl in the background starts to count and then collapses into giggles once she reaches eight.

  ‘Make it for ten!’ Johnny shouts down the phone to me. He sounds absolutely wasted.

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘Where are we now?’ he shouts to the people he’s with.

  ‘Outside Bar Marmont!’ another girl’s voice shouts back.

  Okay, he’s still at the same place.

  ‘Johnny, I’m getting Davey to come and get you. Stay where you are. Don’t ride the bike!’

  ‘You’re a good girl, Nutmeg,’ he slurs, and the phone line goes dead.

  I have to raise poor Davey from a very deep sleep, but he does his best to sound alert. He promises me he’ll be there in twenty minutes. I try to call Johnny back to let him know not to leave the bar yet, but he doesn’t answer his phone. Eventually I call Davey again.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got him,’ Davey assures me.

  Relieved, I drift back into a disturbed sleep.

  Johnny calls me again at about 4.30 a.m.

  ‘Is she still there?’ he slurs.

  ‘I think so,’ I answer, sleepily.

  He hangs up.

  Forty-five minutes later I hear him come home. Thank God for that. I leap out of bed and hurriedly put on my dressing gown. Before I reach my bedroom door, I hear the sound of a girl giggling inside the house. And it isn’t Serengeti.

  I quietly open the door and peer out. Johnny is halfway up the stairs with a petite platinum blonde, who’s wearing a tiny miniskirt and vest top. She’s giggling as he puts his hands on her face and kisses her. I watch, feeling bile seep up my throat, as he puts his right hand onto her breast and then pulls her body tight into him with his left hand. I can hear her moaning as he presses himself up against her.

  Christ. Serengeti is only metres away.

  Johnny pulls away and they stumble up the stairs, her laughing, him chuckling. He almost trips at the top of the stairs, but he grabs hold of her to steady himself, then pushes her up against the wall and presses himself back into her as he kisses her passionately once more. He raises her top and roughly tugs at her bra to release her breasts. I feel absolutely sick watching, but I can’t move away. His mouth moves down to her right nipple and she throws her head back and gasps. Seconds later he roughly pushes her skirt up and unzips his jeans. Oh God, no. Please don’t have sex with her right outside the bedroom where your girlfriend is. I want to scream, to tell him that Serengeti is inside. To stop him from doing what he’s about to do with this girl. Oh hell, how can I stop this?

  Turns out it’s not me who has to.

  The door to Johnny’s bedroom opens and Serengeti, fully dressed and pale-faced, comes out.

  ‘Oops,’ I hear the girl giggle, and she tries to tug down her skirt.

  But Johnny stays where he is, doesn’t move away from the girl, doesn’t let go of her right breast with his hand. I see him make eye contact with Serengeti momentarily as she rushes past him and runs down the stairs, and then seconds later Johnny takes the girl’s hand and leads her into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

  Oh, poor Serengeti. I run out of my room and down the stairs after her. She’s searching through the coat cupboard.

  ‘Serengeti!’ I cry. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  She doesn’t look at me, just grabs her things. Tears are streaming down her face.

  ‘Please,’ I beg, ‘is there anything I can do?’

  ‘I need–need to get rid of this,’ Serengeti stammers through her tears.

  She’s clutching the chemist bag in her right hand.

  ‘I won’t be seen,’ I promise her. She hands it over and at that moment I feel overwhelmingly sorry for her. She goes to walk out of the door.

  ‘Wait! Let me call Davey,’ I insist. ‘He won’t have gone far.’

  She stops in
the doorway, her back facing me, and nods. I run back into the office and call him. He’s only down the road.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say to Serengeti, still standing there in the open doorway. ‘Please call if I can help in any way…’ My voice trails off.

  The headlights from Davey’s car come streaming through the early morning light. Serengeti walks forward to meet him. He gets out quickly and opens the door for her, raising his hand in acknowledgement of me. He gets back into the front seat and shuts the door behind him.

  Shit! Footsie!

  I run after the car in a panic and bash on the window. Davey stops and winds his front window down.

  ‘Footsie!’ I gasp. Davey looks confused. ‘Wait!’ I hold up my hand.

  I run back into the house in search of the little white dog and find him asleep under the table in the kitchen, blissfully unaware of his mistress’s distress.

  ‘Come here, Footsie!’ I call. He rouses himself and wanders over to me. I pick him up, soft and fluffy in my arms, and hurry back outside. Serengeti’s door opens.

  ‘My baby!’ she wails. I hand over the dog as she collapses into full-blown sobs. I gently close the door and stand there as Davey drives away.

  As I turn right at the top of the stairs to go back to bed, I hear the girl inside Johnny’s room experience what sounds very much like an orgasm. The nausea in my stomach rises up again and threatens to overcome me as I go into my bedroom.

  Chapter 13

  I wake up feeling exhausted and desperately needing a lie-in, but as soon as my mind starts to tick over I know there’s no way I’ll be falling asleep again.

  I wonder if the girl is still in Johnny’s bedroom. I wonder how he’s feeling this morning. Probably still wasted.

  Is Serengeti pregnant? Will she keep the baby? My head aches even thinking about it. I glance down at the little white bag from the chemist, sitting on my bedroom floor. I haven’t looked inside.

  I consider calling Bess for a chat, but I don’t think I have the energy to talk. And anyway, I’m not allowed to talk about this. Not to her, not to anyone. That would be in breach of my confidentiality agreement. The thought makes me feel quite lonely.

  My laps have completely fallen by the wayside since Christian left and I really can’t be bothered to go for a swim now. But I know that I should, that it will make me feel better, and even if it’s only marginally better, it’s worth doing. I get out of bed and drag on my bikini, heading downstairs in a daze.

  There’s no noise coming from Johnny’s room and I wouldn’t expect there to be at this time in the morning. It’s after ten, but that’s early, all things considered.

  By the time Santiago arrives for his weekly pool cleaning/gardening session, my arms are aching from swimming. I’ve kept pushing myself on, revelling in the feeling of pain and have got as far as forty-three laps. When I see him I’m relieved to have an excuse to give up.

  ‘Don’t stop on my account,’ he says cheerfully, pearly white smile practically glinting in the sunlight.

  ‘I’ve had enough,’ I say, just about managing to stifle a groan.

  I climb out of the pool and he hands me my towel. I wrap it around myself.

  ‘Wow, you look like you’ve had a late one,’ he says, surveying my face.

  I know I look rough. No amount of concealer would be able to cover up the dark circles under my eyes, so it’s just as well I don’t have to go anywhere today.

  My thoughts turn to Serengeti and how she must be feeling this morning.

  ‘Not out again with Johnny, were you?’ Santiago asks, cheekily.

  ‘What? No!’ I answer, annoyed.

  ‘I saw you in the papers,’ he teases. ‘Nice, romantic evening at the Ivy last weekend. Get you, girlfriend!’

  I look at him, unamused. His playful expression rapidly changes to one of concern. ‘Hey, are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, fine,’ I brush him off. ‘My arms are killing me from all that swimming, though.’

  ‘How many laps did you manage today?’ He goes along with my change of subject until I take my leave and go and have a shower.

  The girl emerges from Johnny’s room shortly afterwards. I’m in the kitchen when I hear her footsteps on the stairs. She looks sheepish when she sees me.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Do you want me to call you a car to take you home?’

  ‘That would be great,’ she says, eyes darting around to take in her surroundings.

  ‘Wow, look at that view.’ She walks into the living room while I dash into the office to call a taxi company. I can’t bear to wake Davey again, not after the night he’s just had.

  I come out of the office to see the girl standing out on the terrace, talking to Santiago. She’s giggling and looking up at him, coyly tucking her long blonde hair behind her ears. I listen, but there’s still no sound coming from Johnny’s room. I poke my head out of the door.

  ‘Car will be here in ten.’

  ‘Cool, thanks!’ She beams at me. ‘We went to the same school,’ she gushes, indicating Santiago. ‘I had such a crush on him!’

  Santiago grins, enjoying the flattery.

  Later, when the car has arrived to pick her up, Santiago asks about Serengeti. ‘Is she off the scene at last?’ he whispers, loudly.

  I shrug my shoulders.

  ‘She is, isn’t she?’ he presses. I say nothing. ‘Yay! No more cleaning up doggie poo!’ he enthuses.

  I leave him then and go back inside.

  I’m in the kitchen having an afternoon cuppa when Johnny eventually appears.

  ‘Hi!’ I say, still surprised to see him even though I knew he’d emerge sooner or later. I get to my feet. ‘Want a coffee? Tea?’

  ‘Might have a tea.’ His voice sounds hoarse. He pulls up a chair, scraping it along the tiles noisily. The sound of it hurts my head.

  ‘Ouch,’ he says himself, as he sits down.

  I turn to look at him. He rests his head on one of his palms as he gazes at me woefully.

  I give him a rueful smile. He smiles back, sorrowfully.

  ‘That was a bit of a cock-up,’ he says.

  ‘You could say that,’ I agree.

  He sighs, while I pour boiling water from the kettle into a mug for him.

  ‘Milk? Sugar?’ I haven’t made him tea before.

  ‘Just milk. No, I will have sugar, actually,’ he changes his mind. ‘One.’

  I bring his mug to the table and lift a chair out so it doesn’t scrape and hurt both our heads. I sit down and nurse my own cup.

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  He sighs again. ‘Not really. Where did she go?’

  ‘A taxi took her home. Oh,’ I suddenly say, ‘who do you mean? Serengeti or…’

  He shakes his head, unsmiling. ‘I don’t know her name.’

  ‘Santiago went to school with her if you want me to find out.’

  ‘Fuck, did he? No, thanks.’ He gives me a wry look. ‘I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other again.’

  ‘Anyway,’ I move on. ‘Davey took Serengeti home, if that’s what you were asking.’

  ‘Okay. Cool.’

  Neither of us says anything for a little while; we just sip on our tea, then I speak.

  ‘Do you want me to do anything?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Serengeti.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure? I mean, I know it’s not your style to send flowers, but—’

  ‘I’m sure,’ he interrupts.

  ‘Oh. Okay, then.’

  ‘Look,’ he explains, ‘it’s over. She was getting too clingy. It had to come to an end sooner or later.’

  I get up, feeling disappointed in him even though I didn’t particularly like Serengeti.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ he asks, a little irritably.

  ‘Nothing,’ I reply, putting my mug in the dishwasher. It’s not my job to judge him.

  ‘Yes, there is,’ he says.

  ‘No, there’s not
.’ I turn to him and force a smile. ‘Now, more tea? Anything else?’

  ‘No.’ He pushes his chair out noisily and rises to his feet. ‘Nutmeg,’ he says, ‘this is just the way I am. I ain’t going to change, not for you, not for Serengeti, not for anyone.’

  I nod. ‘I know.’

  ‘I’m going out on the bike,’ he tells me.

  ‘Where is your motorbike?’ I ask, remembering he had to leave it last night.

  ‘Hmm. I don’t know. One of the clubs we went to should have an idea. Used valets nearby.’

  ‘I’ll sort it,’ I say, as he knew I would.

  ‘I’ll take the Hellcat,’ he decides, referring to the other motorbike in the garage.

  I go back up to my room after that. The little white bag from the chemist is still on the floor by the wardrobes. I sit on the bed and stare at it, fixated. I know I shouldn’t look inside, but the curiosity is killing me. I need to get rid of it.

  I pick it up and head downstairs, buzzing security to ask them to get the Porsche ready. I drive it for a few miles, checking my rear-view mirror often to make sure I’m not being tailed. Finally I see a bin on the side of the road and pull over.

  I glance down at the bag. Should I take a peek? No. It’s none of my business.

  But wait a second. Surely if Johnny is going to be a father, it is my business. As his PA, I need to know these things, right?

  I pick up the bag and shake it. The contents rattle inside.

  I need to make a decision and fast. This looks well dodgy parking on the side of the road in a Porsche.

  Bugger it, I’m looking.

  I open the bag and pull out the first box I lay my hands on. Oh. It’s unopened. I pull out the next one. Again, the plastic wrapping is intact. What on earth is going on?

  But the third and final box has been unwrapped and I’m guessing now that Serengeti was satisfied with its result. I open it up and slide out the pregnancy test. I hold it facing away from me for a moment, as though I’m the possible mother-to-be. And then I flip it over.

  Nothing.

  The digital display is blank. The test has been used, but the display has gone blank after all this time has elapsed. I violated Serengeti’s trust and I’m still none the wiser. And that doesn’t make me feel very proud of myself at all.