Later that evening, Natalie sat alone in the hotel, still quite unable to believe that she was in this amazing place all alone. It was such a pity that Steve hadn’t been able to make it.
Such a pity because he’d sounded so eager when she’d first mentioned her grand plans for a holiday.
“Sounds good,” he’d said. “I could do with a break. Like I said, we’re in the middle of a huge deal at the moment, and it’s been hard going. After all this, I’d jump at the chance to get away.”
As a property developer, Steve didn’t have to keep nine to five office hours like everyone else and (unlike Natalie) could easily get away at the drop of a hat. This had been the main reason she’d been so confident about booking it at such short notice.
“So, I’ll let you know when would be a good time for me, and we’ll talk about it then, OK?” he told her.
Natalie gulped. This was obviously not the time to tell him that she’d already arranged the entire thing, first-class flights, five-star hotel, lock stock and barrel and that they were leaving in a few days’ time! But she’d been certain that Steve would be fine with it in the end. After all, what man wouldn’t want to be whisked away on a last-minute holiday by the woman in his life? All men loved an assertive woman, didn’t they?
So, later that week, she’d phoned Steve and excitedly left a message on his answering machine, informing him that she’d booked them a fabulous last-minute break in Egypt, and they’d be leaving first thing Saturday morning.
And by the end of that particular week, Natalie sorely needed a holiday herself.
It had easily been the toughest few days at work in living memory. Midweek, Michael Sharpe had been involved in a punch-up with his team-mate, not in a nightclub, but right on the football pitch in full view of the fifty thousand or so spectators at the match. He’d got in a strop because his team-mate, a younger and more inexperienced player, hadn’t passed the ball to him at a crucial stage, which Michael believed was an offence deserving of a punch in the eye. But it got worse. When the referee tried to intervene, Michael promptly spat in his face, earning himself an immediate red card and, Natalie reckoned, a three-match suspension for his troubles, if not more. Having just about managed to get the Sun story pulled earlier that week, she just couldn’t believe that Michael had got himself into more trouble so soon. Player altercations she could handle; spitting at referees was a different story altogether. Still, she’d had to do something to try and save face, and that evening she and Danni had stayed till all hours at the office and brainstormed until the two had eventually come up with something that would serve as a decent excuse as to why he’d lost the rag on the pitch.
“We could say that Clara had threatened to leave him unless he stopped his boozing and wandering eye,” Danni suggested and Natalie wanted to hug her.
So, with a speed that would put the Schumachers to shame, they’d arranged an exclusive interview with the Mail on Sunday for the following afternoon, during which Michael carried off a truly Oscar-winning performance as a ravaged and tormented human being, terrified of losing his family.
“I don’t know what I’d do without Clara – she’s my rock,” he’d sniffed. “I couldn’t cope – I try not to bring my problems onto the pitch, but once I got out there, I just cracked. It was all too much for me.”
Natalie had to admit that the man was good; for the benefit of the photographer, he had even managed to produce real tears.
“My family mean everything to me!” he wailed. “If I don’t have them, all the medals and trophies in the world mean nothing.”
Clara had no more threatened to leave him than she had to give up shopping, but painting such a doleful picture of this talented player, haunted by demons and so upset over his family, meant that he at least gained sympathy from fans and, most importantly, from certain sections of the media. Everyone loved a tortured genius.
So, thanks to Danni and Natalie’s savvy bit of PR, come Sunday, Michael Sharpe would no doubt be once again restored to his position as England’s most adored and even-more-indulged footballer.
But by the weekend, Natalie had been feeling the effects of a full week’s troubleshooting and was only too ready for a relaxing week abroad.
However, in the meantime, and with all the hullabaloo with Michael, she hadn’t managed to get Steve on the phone, and instead she’d texted him the details of their flight and arranged to meet him at the airport. Obviously, he was trying to get this property deal tied up before they went, so much better to just let him get the job done and then they could both enjoy their time away. Then, on her way to Heathrow in the cab on Saturday morning, she’d sent him another text telling him she’d meet him outside WH Smiths in Terminal 2.
Almost immediately Steve phoned.
“Natalie, I can’t go on holiday with you today!” he said, sounding flustered. “What on earth made you think I could?”
“But it’s all booked, Steve! We’re flying out this morning. You knew that!”
“I did not know that! You told me you were thinking of booking a week away for us at some stage. As far as I was concerned it was just an idea! Then when I got these texts telling me we were flying out this weekend, I didn’t know what to make of it. To be honest, I thought you were having me on.”
“But –”
“Natalie, are you out of your mind? What made you think I could just drop everything and take off for a week at such short notice? I have a business to run!”
He sounded very upset, considerably more upset than the situation merited, Natalie thought. After all, he was the one leaving her stranded, after more or less agreeing to go on the holiday with her!
“Natalie . . .” Steve paused for a moment. “Nat, this is coming across a little bit weird . . . a little bit heavy, to be honest. And the thing is –”
“The thing is what?” Natalie asked, her nerves instantly on alert.
“I don’t like being railroaded – into anything.”
Sensing that she’d crossed some invisible line, Natalie’s heart began to race. “Look, Steve, we obviously got our wires crossed here,” she said quickly, her voice unnaturally bright. “I really thought you were fine about this trip, so I went ahead and booked it. Obviously I was wrong.”
“Yes, you were.”
This was followed by an uncomfortable silence, and Natalie wanted to kick herself. Why oh why had she pushed it – why had she been so impulsive? Of course she should have checked the details with him, of course she should have made sure.
But when Steve eventually spoke again, his voice had softened somewhat. “You’re right. Maybe I didn’t make things clear enough. But look, why don’t you go along without me? You said yourself you badly need a break from work.”
The idea of going on holiday alone, quite frankly, sounded a little sad to Natalie, but then again, unlike Steve, she could get away. Jordan King had since signed with the agency and her boss, Jack, was so pleased about that, he’d have let Natalie fly to the moon if she’d wanted to.
“Honestly, you should go,” Steve insisted. “And I’ll pay you back for the money you lost on my ticket.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. It was my fault for booking it in the first place without consulting you properly.” It had been rather rash of her. But he’d seemed quite enthusiastic about the idea initially so . . .
“Even so, there is no point in letting a perfectly good holiday like that go to waste,” Steve went on, his tone now sounding rather impatient, she thought.
Natalie bit her lip, trying to decide one way or the other. She’d really wanted this time alone with Steve – time to make him see how important she was in his life and how he couldn’t possibly live without her. “I suppose.”
Eventually, and after considerable encouragement from Steve, Natalie decided that she would go. If anything, it proved to him that she was an exciting, unpredictable woman, who was confident and assertive enough to go on holidays on her own. So, she bid Steve a regretful goodbye over the phone and promised to call him when she got to the hotel in Sharm el Sheikh.
“I’ll be very busy over the next few days,” he’d told her, his voice sounding tense once again. “So it mightn’t be that easy to reach me.”
“OK, well, don’t work too hard,” Natalie said, her eyes welling up a little as she finally began to come to terms with the fact that he really wasn’t coming with her. “I’ll really miss you.”
“Yeah, me too,” Steve said, before ringing off and leaving Natalie staring out the window of the cab. From the sound of his voice, the poor thing was obviously very stressed by this deal, she decided, putting her phone back in her bag. Never mind, she’d speak to him when she got back. In the meantime, she’d just have to try and get through this week on her own.
Now, in the hotel, as she got ready to go out for dinner, Natalie sorely wished Steve were there. How the hell had she got things so mixed up? She’d been certain he’d be able to come with her.
Oh, well, there was no point in worrying about it now, she thought, smoothing her dress down over her thighs. She was here – on her own – so she’d better just try and relax and enjoy herself. After all the fretting and worrying she’d been doing lately, she deserved it.
That evening, having spent an enjoyable afternoon sunbathing and chitchatting with Natalie by the pool, Tara got ready to go out to dinner.
Glenn – who’d finally returned to the hotel room a good hour after Tara had finished sunbathing – was still wildly enthusiastic about his scuba-diving lessons, but weary after the initial preparation.
“First, I had to swim a couple of hundred metres, then the instructor got me to tread water for a full ten minutes, which was hard going on the calves I can tell you,” he told Tara as they made their way to the Souk, the hotel’s popular Bedouin-themed restaurant area. Situated outdoors on the uppermost level of the building and overlooking the bay, the Souk consisted of five different restaurants, some offering traditional Lebanese and Middle Eastern mezzeh, curried and spiced meals, hummus and aish – a type of Egyptian flatbread. Another specialised in mouth-watering Mediterranean food, reflecting the trad-itional cooking of Spain, Provence, Italy and Greece, while the chefs at the Oriental kitchen prepared seafood, noodles and rice dishes judiciously seasoned with soya sauce, oyster sauce, rice wine, sesame oil and lemongrass. And a typical choice of Indian and Middle Eastern pastries, sweetmeats and Turkish delights from the dessert kitchen nicely finished off a meal.
Guests could, on any given evening, choose from a range of dishes from any of the five kitchens, meaning there was no shortage of variety and little chance of anyone getting bored. The balmy outdoor setting and fragrant mosaic of herbs and spices in the air, set against the background of traditional Bedouin music and rhythmical drumbeat, made for an exotic and enjoyable Arabian experience.
Glenn and Tara both adored exotic food and, upon reaching the Souk, he wasted no time in finding them a vacant table overlooking the tip of Naama Bay, the bright lights of the town twinkling brightly against the darkness. Glenn, however, was less interested in the view and more in getting the attention of one of the waiters, eager to get started on the food.
“I’m starving,” he told Tara. “I think I’ll try something from all five places tonight.”
“Won’t all that extra weight affect your buoyancy?” Tara teased, studying the drinks menu.
“I don’t know, but all that training sure makes me hungry,” he replied, before trying to smother a yawn. “Not to mention exhausted.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait and do this scuba course some other time?” she asked, her voice full of concern. “We’re only here for ten days and it sounds like you won’t have much time to relax.”
According to Glenn, the scuba-diving course was to take place on three consecutive days, and in order to successfully achieve his PADI open-water diving qualification, he would, along with the training, also have to complete two open-water dives – a punishing schedule in Tara’s estimation.
“Nah, I’m not bothered about relaxing,” he assured her. “I’d much rather be doing something interesting. And I’ve been dying to do this for years, so I wouldn’t dream of giving up now!”
No, Tara thought fondly, you wouldn’t, would you? A sports and activities fanatic, back in Ireland (when he wasn’t stuck in front of a computer) Glenn was always off rock-climbing, orienteering or taking part in various adventure activities with like-minded friends. So it was no surprise really that he wasn’t concerned about missing out on relaxation time. Tara still had to broach the subject of their day-trip to the pyramids, which she hoped to take towards the end of the following week and was something she was sure he wouldn’t be too happy about.
Well, there was no point in fretting about it now, she thought, looking around for a waiter who would put the tired and hungry soul out of his misery.
As she did, she caught sight of Natalie being led to a table not far from their own. Tara had thought the girl attractive earlier, but this evening she looked even more beautiful, dressed in a stunning jade satin dress that flattered her curves and accentuated her dusky colouring. By comparison, Tara was struck by how drab she must look in her boring khaki linen trousers and black halter-top.
Tara wasn’t usually insecure about her looks, at least not in the way Liz could be sometimes, but she didn’t think there was a woman alive who wouldn’t be intimidated by Natalie’s gorgeousness. But what the hell, it wasn’t Natalie’s fault she’d been blessed with the beauty gene, and it certainly wasn’t any reason not to like her!
Tara had really enjoyed their chat earlier over lunch. There was something very liberating about chatting to someone you hardly knew and who knew absolutely nothing about you. They’d exchanged snippets of each other’s lives, Tara telling her all about her and Glenn and hearing about Natalie’s glamorous London lifestyle in return. They’d then spent a comfortable afternoon sunbathing and dipping in and out of the pool. Well, Tara had “dipped”, Natalie, a confident and elegant swimmer, had glided.
Now, in the restaurant, she tried to catch Natalie’s attention.
“Who are you waving at?” Glenn asked, turning round in his seat. Predictably, his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he spied the stunning creature walking towards them.
“The girl I told you I met at the pool earlier. She’s lovely and she’s on her own, so be nice to her.”
“Hello there!” said Natalie.
The two women embraced and then Natalie turned to face Tara’s companion. “And you must be Glenn,” she said, extending a hand to him in greeting. “I’ve heard all about you. How are the scuba-diving lessons going?”
Glenn couldn’t have looked any more shell-shocked than if Pamela Anderson had walked right up and kissed him on the lips. Despite her slight unease, Tara had to laugh at his reaction, which she’d anticipated. He was actually blushing!
“Pleased to meet you,” Glenn replied, quickly shaking Natalie’s hand.
“You’ll join us, won’t you?” Tara urged.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t – you two are on your own holiday and –”
“Don’t be silly,” Tara assured her, “we’d love you to have dinner with us, wouldn’t we, Glenn?”
He nodded dumbly.
“Well, if you’re sure . . .” Natalie smiled at the waiter, who quickly went to fetch another place setting. “I must admit I didn’t relish the thought of having dinner on my own. But I feel awful about intruding on your holiday like this, Tara. Please don’t feel like you have to take pity on me because I’ve been abandoned.”
“Abandoned?” Glenn enquired.
“Natalie’s boyfriend was supposed to come on holiday with her,” Tara informed him, stressing the word “boyfriend” just to be on the safe side, although she knew there was hardly anything to worry about. Even if he did happen to fancy her, Natalie was way out of Glenn’s league. “But he had to cancel at the last minute.”
“Which means you’re stuck with me,” Natalie finished, her beautiful eyes widening apologetically. She opened a box of cigarettes and went to light up before pausing quickly, her cigarette still mid-air. “Oh God, you don’t mind, do you? I know smoking is banned in Ireland so –”
“Only indoors and, no, we don’t mind,” Tara replied easily. “So, what will I have tonight then? I think I might try the Oriental – I’m in the mood for something noodley.”
The three of them chatted easily over dinner, and once again Tara marvelled at how down-to-earth and lovely Natalie was. Then, when the plates were cleared away, Tara suggested the three of them go and have drinks elsewhere in the hotel.
“We could go to the piano bar. It’s really relaxing sitting there on the terrace, the music drifting along the air,” she told Natalie.
“Sounds great.” Natalie looked at Glenn. “Again, if you don’t mind –”
“No, you two work away,” he replied, stifling a yawn. “I might head off to bed early tonight if that’s OK. I’m whacked after all that swimming, and I’ve an eight o’clock start in the morning.”
“You go ahead, love,” Tara soothed, and shot a mischievous wink at Natalie. “We’ll be fine without you.”
“I can’t wait to get my PADI cert. Problem is, when I do get it, I’ll only get in one or two more open-water dives before we go home.”
Tara seized the moment. It was now or never. “Don’t forget that next week we need to fit in a trip to Cairo too.”
As expected, Glenn wasn’t receptive. “Ah, we don’t have to do that, do we?” he moaned.
“You know I’ve always wanted to visit the pyramids, Glenn.” Tara was equally petulant. “And it wouldn’t kill you to spend even one day with me on this holiday.”
“But it’s such a long trip up there – I’ll be shattered after all my training!”
He was right: the day trip to Cairo had a four a.m. start and it would be nearly bedtime by the time they got back. She bit her lip. It was annoying but perhaps it might be too much to ask.
“Well, I’d love to go,” Natalie piped up then. “But I wouldn’t dream of going all that way by myself. Anyway, these things are never much fun on your own, so if you don’t mind my tagging along, I’d be happy to go with you, Tara. That is, if Glenn doesn’t mind staying here by himself.”
Glenn didn’t mind at all. “That’s a great idea – why don’t you two go together?” he said, quickly seizing the opportunity to get out of the trip. “As Natalie says, at least then you get to go with someone who’ll actually enjoy it. Me, I couldn’t give a toss about pyramids and museums and the like. I’d much rather get a few more dives in. What do you think?”
Tara considered it. Granted, it would be much more fun going on the trip with someone who actually wanted to be there, and even though they’d only known each other a few hours, Natalie had already proven to be great company. Still, she felt guilty about leaving Glenn here on his own. They were on holiday together after all. “You wouldn’t mind my going up there without you?” she asked.
Glenn laughed. “Believe me, I wouldn’t mind at all!”
“Thanks a million,” Tara said dryly.
“You know what I mean. It’d be much better for all concerned. I could get another dive in back here, and you can go and visit the pyramids with someone who’d enjoy them.”
“And who wouldn’t have a face like a wet week on them either,” Tara teased.
Glenn was sheepish. “True enough, but it’s not my fault that long-dead bodies don’t float my boat.”
“OK then, great.” Tara looked at Natalie. “We could book for Wednesday, let’s say? What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me,” the other woman replied, smiling warmly back.
True to his word, Glenn headed straight for bed, leaving the two women alone at the table.
“He’s gorgeous!” Natalie enthused, when he was out of earshot.
“You think so?” Tara was secretly pleased.
“Absolutely – those amazing brown eyes! And he’s quite muscular too, isn’t he?”
“Well, no disrespect, but hands off!” Tara joked.
“Oh, my goodness, I didn’t mean that! I just meant it, you know, as a compliment.”
“I know you did – I was just joking,” Tara replied, although the idea that someone as gorgeous as Natalie found Glenn attractive in return was a little unsettling. Still, she knew instinctively that Natalie wouldn’t dream of making a play for him. She just wasn’t that type of girl. And anyway, she was obviously madly in love with this Steve.
Having decided to skip dessert, the two retired to the hotel bar and settled in for another cosy chat. Over a couple of champagne cocktails, Natalie told Tara some more about her relationship with Steve.
“We have a wonderful relationship and I really feel that he’s the one. I just wish he’d get round to popping the question soon. It was our anniversary last week and I’d sort of hoped that it might happen then. And, if not, at least on this holiday.”
Tara smiled understandingly. “So how long have you two been together?”
Natalie took a sip from her drink. “Six months.”
“Six . . . months?” Tara couldn’t keep the surprise out of her tone.
“Yes, I know it doesn’t sound like long. But we’re in love, and time is moving on – especially for me.” She rolled her eyes. “If it doesn’t happen soon for me, it never will.”
“Why do you say that?”
Natalie shrugged. “The fact that I’m almost forty.”
Tara’s eyes widened with disbelief. Forty? That was it, once she got back home she was going on a serious diet!
“Well, thirty-two,” Natalie admitted then, much to Tara’s relief. “But the point is I’m not getting any younger. This year alone I’ve watched my assistant and three of my best friends get married, and they’re all younger than me.”
“And do you feel that age alone is a basis for getting married?” Tara said, automatically switching to coaching mode and kicking herself for doing so. “I’m sorry, Natalie – don’t mind me,” she added quickly, shaking her head. “I’m a life coach, and sometimes I can’t help drawing people into personal conversations like this. Sorry.”
But Natalie didn’t bat an eyelid. “A life coach? How fabulous! My assistant Danni sees a life coach in Bloomsbury that she’s always raving about! I keep promising to try one myself some time, but work’s been so crazy lately, I just don’t have the time.”
Tara grinned. Some people were horrified by Tara’s job, thinking her some kind of unscrupulous quack, which was the main reason she hadn’t mentioned it to Natalie before. But, trust an open-minded Englishwoman to accept her profession without question!
“Well, I do enjoy it, but as I said, sometimes I find it difficult to carry on a normal conversation. The temptation is always there.”
Natalie waved her away. “Don’t worry, I’m the same. As I said before, I work in PR and at times I can’t help but size up every new person I meet as a potentially useful contact. But now I understand why I find you so easy to talk to.”
Natalie did seem happy to have someone to confide in and confessed quite candidly to Tara her deep need, almost obsession, with finding a husband.
“I know it’s not fashionable to say it, and most of my single girlfriends in London would kill me for even thinking it, but it’s what I want. I want to be married; I want to be somebody’s wife.”
“I don’t think that’s so terrible,” Tara commented.
“I’m tired of all the empty socialising and arselicking,” Natalie went on, as if Tara hadn’t replied. “London is a big place, and while it’s wonderful, it can get lonely sometimes. Now, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t dream of living anywhere else, and most of the time it’s great fun, but sometimes I feel like there has to be more to life than parties at Claridges and media launches in Soho.”
Tara hid a smile. Parties at Claridges sounded pretty amazing to her. But no matter who you were and what you did, the grass always seemed greener on the other side, didn’t it? She’d seen it time and time again in her line of work.
“I feel like such an idiot for thinking this way,” Natalie continued. “As though I’m betraying my womanhood or something. We’re all supposed to be independent, women-of-the-world types who don’t need men, aren’t we? According to the magazines, in a few years’ time we’ll all be so self-sufficient we’ll have no need for them at all! But deep down I really don’t feel that way. I want to be a wife. I want to be Steve’s wife.”
Tara’s heart went out to her, this beautiful, successful and self-assured woman who, on the face of it, was the Cosmo ideal incarnate.
“Look, don’t beat yourself up for feeling that way. My best friend Liz was exactly the same, and since she got married three years ago, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happier. And there’s certainly no shame in wanting to be happy. I never thought any less of her for admitting that she wanted the big white wedding, even though I didn’t necessarily feel the same way – and still don’t.”
“You don’t want to get married?”
“Not particularly. I’m perfectly happy the way I am. I adore Glenn and the life we have together. We’re very happy – well, most of the time,” she added, smiling fondly, “and that’s enough for me.”
“But don’t you think that might change sometime in the future? That you might want something more?” Natalie persisted, her eyes widening. “Oh, I’m sorry, now I’m being nosy, aren’t I? Just tell me to sod off and mind my own business.”
“No, it’s fine.” Tara sat forward, not at all insulted by the question. “But it’s funny, you sound just like Liz, the friend I was talking about just now. As I said, she’s been married for years, is blissfully happy and for the life of her can’t understand why I’m a million miles away from following suit. But in all honesty, I love my life the way it is and I’ve never had any interest in getting married.”
“But why not? Don’t you want the fairytale and the big white dress and all the trimmings?” Natalie’s face took on a faraway expression. “Personally I can’t wait, and I’d give anything to walk up the aisle.”
“You’re certain that’s what you want?” Tara asked and Natalie nodded dreamily.
“And what about Steve – what do you think he wants?”
“Hopefully the same thing as I do,” Natalie replied. “If not, I’m in a spot of bother, aren’t I?”