Page 11 of I Knew You Were Trouble

The jet lag also means that by five a.m., I’m wide awake again.

Peeling back the blackout curtains, I watch a vast city sleep. I look up the pool operating times, pleased to see I only have to wait another forty minutes for it to open. Relieved that I’d thrown a simple black swimsuit into my suitcase on the off chance, I change out of my pyjamas and into the suit, covering myself with a hotel robe and sliding my feet into the pre-packaged white slippers. I glance in the bathroom mirror, trying to smooth down the remnants of my bed hair, sticking up wildly at the back, before I venture down to the fitness suite.

As I enter the pool area, I freeze. Aidan McArthur sits at the far end, flanked by dramatic windows rising into a pyramid shape, the sun coming up behind him and his legs dangling into the water. He wears nothing but a pair of black swimming shorts. I duck behind a potted palm tree, hoping he hasn’t seen me. We are the only two here.

For a few moments, I watch him. He’s motionless, other than the ripples set off on the water’s surface by the small movements of his feet. Much like last night on the rooftop, he appears lost in his own world. He has wide shoulders, lean muscles and a figure that belongs on the cover ofMen’s Health.

A weird sensation balloons in my stomach. After last night’s exchange, I feel the need to make peace. I realise I’m staring, so instead I step out of the shadow of the palm and clear my throat. The sound seems to echo up to the glass-panelled roof. Aidan snaps out of his reverie.

‘Oh. It’s you again,’ he says, and he couldn’t sound less impressed if he tried.

At the opposite end of the pool, I tie my hair back. He’s not going to get rid of me that easily. I’ll get on with my swim. ‘Me again. Good morning.’

‘Couldn’t sleep?’

‘I slept fine, thank you. Jet lag has me up early.’

I wriggle out of my robe, self-conscious that his eyes are on my body in the swimsuit. The cut isn’t flattering. It’s the kind of suit my grandmother used to wear to the local lido. I’m thankful for the lack of swimming goggles, which might have made things worse. Kicking off the hotel slippers, I lower myself into the water at the other end to Aidan, sucking breath as the cold hits my skin. I soon realise that a lack of goggles means I can’t really see where I’m going under the water. As I draw nearer to him, in a slow front crawl, I see through blurry vision that he’s shifted his position a fraction, so his legs now dangle at the point where my hands will touch the other side. He’d done it on purpose, I suppose. As I lift my head, wiping the water from my face, he’s staring down at me. He’s not smiling.

‘I looked you up,’ he says.

‘Oh?’ I say, wiping water from my eyes. ‘And what did you find out?’

‘That you won an Oscar earlier this year.’

I tread water, rather than rest my hands against the wall. ‘Does that make you more inclined to work with me?’

‘Makes you more impressive than the last guy. I don’t remember him having an award like that under his belt, and you’re way younger than he was. Seems you’re quite the sensation in the world of documentary filmmaking.’

‘I don’t know about that. I got lucky. Some people might say the same about you.’

He gives a frown. He has the most incredible skin. ‘Luck will only get you so far through a gruelling twelve-step audition process where the viewers decide your fate. Eventually it comes down to how talented – or not talented – you are. Equally, I would say you don’t win an Oscar for Best Documentary without some kind of apititude for filmmaking. So, believe it or not, I’m not just a commodity.’

‘I never said you were a commodity.’

‘You didn’t have to.’

Under the water, my thigh muscles are beginning to ache. ‘I think you’ll find that if I was going to refer to you – as in Rebel Heart – at all, I would have said you were a homogenized, identikit version of a previous formula that’s proved successful going back to the Fifties and Sixties. Boy bands are boy bands. It’s horses for courses.’

His eyes flash, as though I’ve struck a nerve, or narked him.

‘I watched your acceptance speech on YouTube,’ he continues, changing the subject. ‘You dedicated the award to your mum. I’m sorry to hear she passed away… How long ago was it?’

I am out of breath and energy. The mention of my mother propels me to grab the outer rim of the pool to my left, avoiding the spot nearest to me, which lies between his legs. I am annoyed that he’s brought her into our conversation, when he’s only just met me. ‘I was still in school.’

‘That must have been rough.’

I wipe the water from my eyes. The memories are still raw, even after almost thirteen years.

He bows his head. I wonder whether I should continue with my swim.

‘You should know that I agreed with the lads I would interview you,’ Aidan says with a sniff. ‘Before you meet us all properly later this morning.’

I blink at him, speechless. Who does this clown think he is?

‘What do you mean, interview me?’

‘See if you’re up to the task.’

---