‘OK. I was laughing at you. It was funny, though.’
‘I’ll let you off this once.’ He passed me the basket. ‘Come on, get some meat in you.’ He winked salaciously.
‘You should direct a Carry On film,’ I said, sitting up. ‘And write the script. You seem to have all the innuendoes covered.’
‘You know, I like that idea.’ He took another bite of his pie and looked out to the lake, eyes narrowed. ‘Bit of a departure from my normal style but I think it could work. Carry On Boffing.’
I snorted. ‘Carry On Thrashing.’
‘Carry On meets Fifty Shades of Grey.’
‘Oh God. Have you read it?’
‘Read it? She wrote it about me, didn’t she? I’m a mysterious billionaire. Well, I’m not a billionaire, to be honest, but that was just a bit of artistic licence. She meant me really.’
‘You …’ Perhaps I shouldn’t call him a knob. Might be construed as disrespectful. I still struggled with his switches in tone, from dominant to playful in the blink of an eye.
‘Don’t you believe me?’
‘You don’t have a helipad on the roof,’ I pointed out.
‘Ah. Busted.’
‘Do you have the dark, tormented past, though?’
‘Yeah, I do, as it happens.’ He paused and gave me a troubled look. My fingers tightened around my sausage roll. ‘I once played a junior houseman in Broken Heart Surgery. Don’t you remember?’
I burst out laughing and threw my sausage roll at him.
‘Oh, why did you have to do that, my bad little kitten, oh, why?’ He crawled towards me, his eyes gleaming, ready to pounce. I leaped to my feet and ran towards the lake, still laughing, squealing every now and then when I looked back to find him that little bit closer.
He lifted me clear of the ground and flung me over his shoulder. He was still naked from the waist down and he waded into the lake with me while I yelped and tried to catch my breath, boundlessly exhilarated.
‘Don’t throw me in,’ I pleaded.
‘Is that an order?’ he asked, wheeling around so I nearly slid off his shoulder and had to clutch at his shirt collar. ‘I don’t take kindly to those.’
My only reply was a scream. I was sure I was about to fall.
‘What’s the matter? The water’s lovely,’ he teased.
‘It’s full of weeds,’ I gasped.
‘What are weeds going to do to you? Wrap themselves around you and tie you up? Actually … I like that image. Maybe I’ll get a big handful of weeds and bind you tight with them. Bindweed.’
‘They’re slimy. No! Don’t drop me!’
Too late. He bent forward and tipped me off him so I fell back into the shallow, muddy water with a splash and a spluttery yelp. At least I managed to soak his shirt, which gave me a small element of satisfaction.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’ll give you a head start. I’ll count to twenty. You have to get as far away from me as you can.’
I answered as best I could with my nose full of water.
I said, ‘Nnrught,’ and I began wading towards the shore, cursing the water’s weight against my thighs, wanting to take off into the air.
I heard his counting, calm and slow, and it made me rush so that I stumbled and lost time. I grabbed at the rushes, but they s
lid through my hands, and then one of them cut me. All I could do was rely on my feet, squelching through the sucking mud.