Chapter One

Poor little rich girl. That’s me.

I have everything I want yet I have nothing I really want – like:
Number one
love from my parents who are too busy making money and impressing other rich and famous to notice me. And
Number two
friends who like me for myself not because I’m rich.

I’ve met Richard Branson, I’ve met Elton John, I’ve even met Prince Harry but I want to meet someone who’s not famous and is not impressed by fame or riches.

I’m sitting on the huge deck of my father’s super yacht in Portal Nous Marina in Mallorca, the envy of all the onlookers gauping at me so, so lonely. If only you knew I wanted to shout to them. If only I could change places with you.

I want to be of use, to have some purpose. Yet I haven’t the courage to leave my world. It seems everyone wants to be rich like me so maybe their lives are even emptier than mine.

“Can I get you anything Miss Sophie?” asks Griff, one of the crew that are there to see I and my father and step-mother want for nothing. I just shake my head instead of just saying what I really feel – a new life. My father and step-mother have gone off with two of their so called friends to some fancy restaurant with lots of Michelin stars.

I hate my new step-mother, simpering blond Tracey tart. Spends all her time tarting herself up, pampering herself, bossing all the staff round and crawling up to my Dad. Mind you she gets what she deserves, he treats her just like he treats everyone else. They say its because he’s so single-minded that he’s so successful. And it’s amazing how much power wealth gives, how many doors are opened, tickets to the Cup Final, men’s final at Wimbledon, dinners with MP’s just to name a few that spring to mind.

I did make friends at school but all my friends are in long term relationships and don’t really have the time or the inclination to bother with me any more. Amy, my best friend at school, whom I shared confidences with, admitting to my weaknesses, lack of confidence in dealings with the opposite sex, met a Spanish waiter when on holiday with her parents and stayed in Malaga with him, living with his parents. How brave! What a change for her!

Wonder if she has really escaped or whether she’ll come crawling back some day with the tail between her legs. One of my other friends managed to get herself pregnant and is now married to the father. It was an amazing wedding, with a hen party in The Seychelles and a wedding on the beach in Martinique, both events to which I went. Since then Chloe, has not replied to any of my texts and there’s nothing on Facebook from her.

I’ve tried with boys and been a bit loose really. I was seeking love, I suppose. I haven’t really enjoyed the sex bit and feel ashamed really that I’ve been such a pushover.

Amy told me how wonderful making love was, telling me she and her boyfriend of the time had managed to keep playing with each other all night, achieving orgasm after orgasm, often together.

My thoughts were interrupted by a couple of tattooed lads calling from the quay. They place was crawling with people gauping at the ‘lucky’ rich on their super yachts. If they had looked closely they would have seen most of them were unoccupied or if anyone was on board they were on their own watching the television.

“Hyia darling on your own are ya?”

I ignore this.

“Come on love give us a break. I’ve never been on a boat, let alone a floating gin-palace.”

“We won’t hurt you, honest.”

I get up to go inside, to get away from these two but inexplicably change my mind and instead go towards the rail.

“Eh, you’re a bit of all right ain’t yer?”

Do I ignore them, go inside or invite them aboard?

“Would you like a beer?”

Am I mad?

“You bloody bet we would.”

“Leave your shoes on the quay and come aboard” I say as I push the switch to lower the passerrelle. I then press the intercom button and order two beers for them and a coke for me. As they come on board I welcome them and shake each of their hands.

“I’m Sophie.”

“I’m Carl and this dickhead’s Wayne.”

“Hi Sophie, Wayne. Is this your yacht? You must be loaded.”

“It’s my fathers, not mine.”

Why do I have to sound so stuck up?

“Does ‘e own it like?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, I’ve never met anyone so bloody rich before. Av you Wayne?”

“Our cousin, Kevin’s gorra garage, init?”

“Yeah, that don’t hardly count, shitface.”

“Watch it, lady’s ‘ere.”

“Oh yeah, sorry luv.”

“What’s that one say?” I say pointing to a tattoo on Carl’s arm.

“Chelsea till death do us part” says Wayne smugly.

“Are you still together?” I ask.

“No the fucking tarts shacked up wiv me big cunt of a brother.”

“Language.”

“Sorry luv.”

“So who’s current?”

“No one, vats why we’re ere. What about you? Bet there’s loads after you, wiv you being rich ‘n that.”

“And nice to look at, lovely hair” chipped in Wayne.

“Thank you Wayne, it’s nice to get a compliment about me.”

Just then Griff arrives with a drinks tray and stiffly places them on the table, his distaste of my companions obvious.

“Fanks mate”.

“Thanks, Griff, could we have a bowl of crisps and some cashews to go with these drinks.”

I had to get him back for that look.

“Spect you can ‘ave anything you want, eh?” Says Carl, “bet you’ve a flash motor, no?”

“I’ve a Audi TT, so not that special.”

“Better than my old Fiat and much better than his old Escort” says Carl who seems to want to put Wayne down.

“It’s a great old car mine. I don’t care if its old and tatty it gets me about without costing me.”

I was warming to the modesty of Wayne and hating the brashness of Carl.

“So are you two friends who’ve come on holiday together?”

“Yeah, we’re workmates and live in the same town. We come out yesterday for a week. Last night we got real skinned and we aven’t been up that long. Missed the ole frigging day sleepin’ it off. So tonight just one beer.”

“You’re bloody joking. I’m going for it every fucking day of the ‘oliday.” Carl was beginning to depress me. If getting smashed every night was the height of his ambitions I didn’t think he could have much imagination.

Griff appeared with two rather meagre bowls of snacks, touché. “Thanks Griff that’ll be all.”

“Goodnight, madam.”

“Oy, Carl you’ve fucking dropped on aven’t you?” Came from the quay. “You coming wiv us or what?”

There were several loutish looking young men on the quay. I was glad I’d taken the precaution of raising the passerelle so they couldn’t come aboard.

“Nice beer, fanks. I’m off to join my mates now if you’ll let me off. Finish your beer Wayne.”

“You don’t have to rush if you don’t want to. I’m not going anywhere and ..” And what I wondered.

“I fink I’d better go. I need to look after Carl, he’s not hisself when he’s had too many. He could easily get into trouble.”

“Cummon Carl we ain’t wasting any more fucking drinking time,” came up from the quay.

“I don’t need looking after you cheeky sod, anyway I’ll be wiv that lot,” said Carl.

“I think they’re trouble. Don’t want to go wiv them,” replied Wayne.

“Ok suit your bloody self, see ya. Eh, what’s yer name let me off this fucking gin palace will yer. An fanks for the beer.”

As soon as the passerelle touched the quay he was off and there we were just the two of us, both at loss of what to say to each other and both wondering whether being together was what we wanted. It was unplanned and unexpected. I wasn’t sure when my parents were due back and what they would think or say if Wayne was still with me. Then suddenly an urge came over me and I gave him a long hard kiss which he returned enthusiastically. Before I knew it his hands were inside my bra. Just as suddenly I broke off and pushed him away.

“I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me. I’m not a pushover and I don’t do sex till I know someone properly.”

“Yeah it was a bit sudden like but wow you really turned me on.”

“I suppose I found it difficult to talk and somehow I wanted to make contact. I mean we’re worlds apart I mean socially, you know, I don’t mean to be rude. We just are. It’s obvious isn’t it? But I’m a female and you’re an attractive male so we have that in common.”

“It was ace, I’m really glad you snogged me and wow what a body!”

“Listen you’d better go now. My parents might come back anytime and now wouldn’t be the right time to meet them.”

“OK I’ll go then. I suppose I ain’t good enough.”

“No it’s not that. My Dad tends to drink too much and I just couldn’t face a scene. We could meet up tomorrow if you like. Somewhere a bit more neutral.”

“That’d be cool. Where?”

“How about coffee at Paolo’s Bar just over there on the promenade. Do you know where I mean?”

“OK I’ll find it. What time?”

“11 OK with you?”

“Yeah. Can I have anover snog?” And he was on me again but I kept his hands off me this time.

When Wayne had gone I went for a stroll along the quay in the other direction. Yachts, even more voluptuous than ours showed themselves off. Huge decks with fancy dining furniture, lit up with various coloured lights, fancy staterooms with white leather furniture, giant satellite discs on the quay. Whilst impressive it all looked sterile to me. To impress not to enjoy. I knew how competitive it all was.

When I made it back aboard I could hear Dad and his simpering blonde tart, Tracey, in their cabin. He was obviously drunk, loud and overbearing, she simpering “what would you like dearest Pooch”. I don’t know where that dreadful nickname came from but it made me nauseous, as did what I thought I heard him ask her to do for him. I closed my cabin door and switched on the aircon, drowning out any noises from their cabin and went to bed.

So would I make my arrangement tomorrow, I mused? That kiss was amazing. That was the upside, the draw. The downside was, well we are obviously so different. Sleep on it and decide in the morning.

* * *. *. * *. * * * * * *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *

A new day. I was still undecided whether to make my date. The quay was less busy now, mainly crew carrying supplies to their yachts. I waited until almost lunchtime before I walked past Paolo’s Bar. There were only a couple of elderly couples sitting at two tables outside and no one inside. So he wasn’t there. Why would he be? I was an hour and a half late. Did I want to meet him? Was this another missed opportunity? I should have had the courage, shouldn’t I? I regretted my cowardliness but knew it was probably for the best. Although I mused what had I got to lose? Wayne was much more of a turn-on than Rob, my current boyfriend.

On the next day Dad decided to take the boat across to Ibiza and we saw some dolphins on the way and Ibiza town is just amazing, situated across the harbour from the marina, perched on a hill leading up to the castle. The centre is exciting with narrow streets lined with lovely boutiquey type shops or the outside tables of bars and restaurants. It’s thronged with the most wayout people, noisy, brash tranvestites, scantily clad women; I even saw a few just wearing a g-string, and of course tourists. Although I wondered briefly what might have happened if I had met up with Wayne again the incident was consigned to be just another memory.

I flew back from Ibiza leaving Dad and Tracy to take boat back to Mallorca.

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