JONATHON - Book 1 [Watty Awards 2012]

Chapter 11

The next morning when she awoke he was already up, showered and suited. He was immaculate.

‘Why didn’t you wake me.’ She scolded, feeling rather crumpled and worn in the face of his beautiful elegance.

‘I thought you needed the rest.’ He said and placed a breakfast tray across her lap. ‘Eat up, we’ve a busy day.’ ‘Oh, have we indeed…..’ ‘Yes…. It’s alright, I’ve already eaten. I’ve booked you at the salon, the full works. David is coming to iron out a few things, so you’d only be bored, then Ralph has ordered a script run through and I want you by my side for that.’

He paced up and down the room with nervous, edgy, volatile energy and she knew that he needed her acquiescence and calm acceptance.

‘That’s lovely, Jonathon. A girl loves to be pampered….. What would you like me to wear.’

'Anything you like for the salon, but the cream suit for the meeting with Ralph. You look so elegant in that Bea, absolutely stunning.’ he said, his mind racing ahead to that all important meeting. His whole career, his life, could hang in the balance at that.

‘Don’t bite your nails, sweetheart.’ He stopped immediately and gazed at her in a sudden crisis of doubt and terrified insecurity. ‘You’ll be fine, Jonathon. Truly you will.’

‘Christ, I need a fucking drink!’ his fist pounded the chair.

‘Jonathon!’

He looked at her, biting his lower lip. Blasphemy; foul language; drink. He was lucky not to have received at least one good slap. And there was still time. ‘I apologise.’ He said. ‘I just need one drink, Bea.’ he wheedled.

‘No! No, you do not. Oh Jonathon, don’t go there again. Remember what that does to you. One chance, half a chance, that’s all you said Ralph will give you. You don’t need that my darling. You’re better than that, really you are.’

‘Am I, Bea. Am I?’ desperate for her reassurance.

‘Yes.’ She said firmly ‘And if that’s not enough, just you remember this. You get drunk again and I’ll cut your balls off.!’

‘Bea!’ he cried, shocked and then his burst of rich deep mirth bounced round and round the walls. She never ceased to amaze him.. ‘Oh Bea, Bea’ he said weak from laughter. ‘You are so good for me.’

He went with her to the salon and caused a great excited stir. He took it as his due. He explained to the stylist what he wanted, his fingers framing Bea’s face. She sat still beneath it all. In fact she was rather overawed by the salon, she would not have known what to ask for and again this was his world. He knew fashion, he knew style. He knew what look he wanted in the woman he had on his arm and she would do nothing to undermine him or his, as yet, still fragile confidence. He was a peacock but he did not want a dowdy little peahen to escort around Town. It was important to him; he needed all the trappings of success to buoy him up so that he might regain what was important to him and what he regarded as his rightful place. And if she could help him by looking her best for him, that was small price to pay. It was a price she wanted to pay. In her loving eyes, he deserved nothing less.

Once he was sure the stylist knew exactly what to do, he bent and kissed Bea’s cheek. ‘Just get a taxi back to the hotel when you’re through.’ he said. ‘I’ll tell the receptionist to order it for you.’

She nodded and he left her. They probably thought she was an elderly great aunt or something being treated by her indulgent young relative. She almost giggled. If only they knew! She was very cautious and very discreet in answering any questions that came her way and soon they tired of asking and just got on with the job in hand.