Baby Be Mine Read Online Free PDF

inside to order, then return to the bright sunlight with our purchase. There are bench tables outside, but instead of sitting at one we head past the windmill and around the corner to the rocks at the very top of the hill. I have to park the buggy with the brake on and carry Barney and our breakfast the rest of the way. I pause for a moment when I realise there’s a blonde girl sitting on the dry yellow grass in the distance. She has her back to us and is facing the surrounding mountains. It dawns on me that she’s doing yoga.
    I reluctantly drag my eyes away and sit on a rock, nursing Barney on my lap. The morning sun is casting a glow over the mountains and down below there’s a patchwork of lime-green vineyards and the small village cemetery. Opening the paper bag from the bakery, I pull out a biscuit – I forgot they do croissants only on weekends – and hand Barney a small piece. We can have some proper breakfast when we get back home.
    This area is full of crumbly old castles. I stare up at the Château de Quéribus on top of a mountain peak. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been transported back in time to a place where Aragorn is king, and elves and goblins roam the land. Yes, I know The Lord of The Rings is fictional, but, honestly, living here it’s hard to believe it. Anyway, Aragon did rule this land. Aragon as in Spain, not Aragorn as in sexy Viggo Mortensen. I’ve read up on my history, I’ll have you know. There’s nothing else to do here.
    Joke.
    Barney wriggles on my lap. I suppose we should set off home.
    I get to my feet and turn around, clocking the lone blonde doing yoga. I feel envious. What it must be like to sit up here doing yoga with no concerns, no big secrets that could destroy a family . . . It’s so beautiful here, so inspirational.
    I wonder why Christian never comes up here to write.
    Johnny would . . .
    I scramble over the rocks with Barney in my arms and buckle him back into his buggy. Then I set off down the steep hill towards home, trying not to think about anything.
    It’s quicker on the return journey, although my arms feel like they’re being pulled out of their sockets with the weight of the buggy and gravity. I’m going to end up like Barney’s favourite Mr Men character: Mr Tickle with his ‘extraordinary long arms’.
    The smile on my face suddenly feels like it’s been slapped off and I come to an abrupt stop outside a shop. Johnny’s face blazes out from multiple newspapers. I stare, sickened, at the frontpage photos of him leaving hospital.
    He looks awful, pale and deathly. He’s not wearing his trademark sunglasses and it doesn’t help his appearance. I don’t imagine he had his sunglasses on when they found him.
    I put my head down and push on, but the image won’t leave me. Thoughts buzz around my mind like persistent blowflies.
    I wonder who did find him. Would it have been his lovely cook, Rosa? I was so fond of her – and she adored Johnny. It would have killed her to see him like that. Or perhaps it was one of his security guards. Then there was Santiago, the pool boy, who became a friend of mine. I wonder what happened to him after I left.
    Barney falls asleep on the way home and I should wake him so I don’t mess up his routine, but I don’t have the energy. I park him in the hallway and slump onto the sofa in the living room, crossing my arms over my face and lying there for a while, trying to let my mind go blank. Fat chance.
    Eventually I get up and go outside and around the corner to the pool. I kick off my shoes and stand on the first step, staring at the water sparkling in the hot sunshine. And then I’m back in LA again, looking down at the spectacular view of the City of Angels from Johnny’s super-cool mansion. It was my first day. Johnny was supposed to be away on a writing trip, but he turned up after I’d fallen asleep by the pool.
    ‘Is this what I pay you for?’ he drawled. Later he removed his black T-shirt to reveal a toned, tanned