This Time Next Year(21)
‘Minnie?’ he said, but he didn’t sound like Greg any more.
Minnie looked down at her screen. The caller ID was displaying some random number she didn’t recognise.
‘Greg?’ she said.
‘No. It’s Quinn. Quinn Hamilton.’
Minnie froze, not knowing whether to hang up the phone or throw it across the street like a burning lump of coal that had scorched her hand. How in the name of dentistry had she managed to call Quinn Hamilton?
‘Oh god, sorry,’ she said, clutching the phone to her ear and closing her eyes. ‘I don’t know how I managed to call you, I was trying to call someone else.’
She must have somehow clicked on the Facebook message when the call dropped.
‘Clearly,’ said Quinn. He sounded amused. ‘You got my message then?’
‘Uh-huh.’ Minnie still had her eyes closed. So much for her plan to play it cool and leave it a few days before replying.
‘And you need a car?’ said Quinn.
‘No,’ said Minnie, shaking her head. ‘Well yes. Sorry, I honestly don’t know how I ended up calling you, my phone must have a mind of its own.’
‘I have a car you can borrow,’ said Quinn.
‘No honestly, I don’t need your car, I can borrow my boyfriend’s car … ’ She paused. ‘Thank you, though, it’s kind of you to offer.’
‘Well if you borrow Greg’s car, you’ll have to go and buy new toothbrushes and that sounds – ’ his deep voice cracked slightly – ‘like hard work.’
Minnie flexed out the fingers on her other hand, every fibre of her body cringing.
‘Honestly, Minnie, I’d be happy to help you out. Let me know where you are and I’ll come drop off the car. Consider it restitution for stealing your name.’
Minnie walked back into the kitchen with a dazed look on her face.
‘Is Greg bringing his car?’ Leila asked, as she folded flat-packed cardboard into pie boxes.
‘No,’ said Minnie staring off into space, still shell-shocked. ‘Quinn Hamilton is bringing his.’
New Year’s Eve 2015
Quinn had booked a private dinner on the beach. He’d been deliberating between the hotel’s ‘Romance at Sunset’ package and the ‘Anniversary Package’. Optional extras included a serenading violinist, your own personal butler, or an upgrade to the waterfront gazebo complete with ‘waterside entertainment’, whatever that involved. When had eating food become so complicated? He’d opted for the basic ‘Romance at Sunset’ with none of the optional extras – good to keep this simple.
Throughout the afternoon, hotel staff had been back and forth to the beach outside their villa setting everything up. Jaya had spent the day at the spa and, when she returned, Quinn shut the villa blinds while she got changed so that their dinner plans would be a surprise. As he led Jaya outside, he saw how much effort the staff had gone to. A trail of paper lanterns made a path across the beach to a solitary white-linen-covered table. Tiki lights were positioned in a circle around it, demarking an island in the sand, and garlands of opulent white flowers hung between the flaming tiki lights.
Jaya gasped, ‘Oh Quinn, how romantic!’
‘The hotel set it up,’ said Quinn, anxious not to get too much credit for this ostentatious display.
They walked through the screen doors onto the sand and Jaya paused, bending down to take off her heels. Quinn wore a dark blue linen suit and Jaya was dressed in the green silk evening gown that Quinn had bought her during their stopover in Munich. She looked beautiful; the dress hugged her body in all the right places and she’d spent hours at the hotel salon, getting a blow-dry and various other treatments Quinn had soon lost interest in hearing about.
Quinn put one hand against the small of her back, guiding her forwards; with the other he pulled out the white cotton-covered chair for her. He noticed there was a pink bow tied to the back of it. It looked slightly frayed on one side and he wondered how many ‘Romance at Sunset’ packages this ribbon had been witness to.
It had been Jaya’s idea to come to India for the holidays. She wanted to see her family in Mumbai and she’d persuaded him to come too, promising him a week on the beach in Goa at the end of their trip. On one level the trip had been a success; Jaya’s family had all greeted Quinn like some celebrity, parading out cousins and aunts to meet the ‘man from Cambridge University’. Now they were at the most luxurious resort Quinn had ever stayed in, or paid for. Jaya had been an obliging companion, as insatiable as ever. He wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but last night he’d wondered if, just once, they couldn’t simply watch a DVD and not have sex four times.
On the plus side, Jaya had been so busy using all the hotel facilities that Quinn had had plenty of time to himself. It was such a relief to be away from home, not to be needed by someone at a moment’s notice, not to be called in the middle of the night. It was only being away that made him see how draining it was being in permanent standby mode.
He felt bad being away for so long, especially over Christmas. His mother had reassured him she’d be fine. She had her sister over from America; Aunt Patricia – one of the lucky, trusted few.
‘Oh look, how precious,’ Jaya said, wrinkling her nose into a smile, ‘they made the napkins into hearts, isn’t that cute?’