What is going on?
He knits his eyebrows together, leaning forward, a question in his eyes. We glare angrily at one another until a soft bleating interrupts the stony silence. I twist round, peering down to see the hairy white head and blunt horns of a cute-looking Pygmy goat, butting against me.
Jackson follows my gaze.
‘Sorry,’ I gush as Jackson shakes his head disbelievingly. ‘I’m so sorry. I thought you… were trying to… Ow! Get off!’ That little fucker has nipped me on the leg.
‘Trying to what exactly?’ Annoyance ripples across his face.
I swallow hard. ‘I thought you were trying to…’Insert several of your fingers up my bum?
The goat nibbles on my skirt before trying to yank it forcefully from my body with its evil buck teeth while I cling to my skirt and what’s left of my dignity.
‘Whatever you thought, you thought wrong,’ Jackson says, his jaw clenched tight.
‘Uh-huh. I can totally see that now.’
Oh great. The terrifying little sex pest has had enough of poking around my crotch and has entangled its horn in my suspender and is trying to yank itself free of me.
‘Shoo! Stop that. Go away.’ And as I frantically try to bat the goat’s nose away from my buttocks, I continue apologising. ‘I’m so, so sorry, Jackson,’ I say, inelegantly bending over to free the goat, which is more difficult than it sounds given that we are all so tightly squashed together. ‘I should never have leapt to conclusions. Ow!’For fuck’s sake.The goat headbutts me and sends me flying against him. Jackson jolts back as though I’m on fire.
It’s like the goat is making a game of it, bleating loudly in a mocking tone. After a few more seconds of me flailing about, to his credit, Jackson lets out a monumental sigh. ‘Need some help?’ He sounds snippy but I nod gratefully. He’s very well-mannered for a recent victim of mistaken identity, I’ll give him that.
He drops grudgingly to one knee, among the throng of passengers, and before he attempts to help me, he looks up. ‘I might accidently touch you. That okay?’
I bite my lip. Poor man. I have horribly misjudged him. I feel his hand slide methodically down my thigh to unhook the suspender strap. There’s further bleating and nudging, followed by the snapping of the strap back into place. Jackson emerges from below. At least he’s very calm under pressure… and very good with his hands… and animals… and extremely sturdy in the face of what was basically assault.
Where to begin apologising?
‘I don’t know why I slapped you,’ I say, remorsefully. He has a red mark in the shape of my hand on his cheek. I feel terrible. ‘I realise this is totally unacceptable behaviour on my part. I’m British you see.’
His face is serious. ‘Forget it,’ he replies sharply. The bus stops abruptly, sending everyone flying yet again. ‘This is your stop. The club’s just over there. Enjoy your evening.’
I peer out of the window to see bright lights and a laser beam whizzing back and forth in the sky. ‘Wait,’ I yell, following him down the bus as he hurriedly makes his way to the front. ‘Please let me make it up to you.’ I pick my way through the crowd of tourists, goats, chickens and elderly passengers and leap from the minibus.
It pulls away immediately as I straighten up at the side of the road and yank my skirt back down, pull my shirt and tie into position and adjust one of my pigtails. Jackson is walking away from me at an alarming pace.
‘Wait!’ I shout, attempting to race after him in my skyscrapers. But if anything, this causes him to speed up.
Luckily, there is a huge queue at the entrance which slows him down. I hurry towards the big sign in neon lights welcoming everyone to Halikarnas open-air nightclub, boasting that it is the biggest nightclub in the whole of Europe. Jackson is making his way to the front where it appears, after he tells them something, the bouncers are happy to let him walk straight through instead of queuing.
My attempt to follow him is blocked by one of the bouncers sticking out his arm (which just happens to be the size of a human leg). He peers over my shoulder in case I’m part of a massive drunken hen do trying to push in. ‘I’m with him!’ I point to Jackson, who turns around, sees me being almost garrotted and rolls his eyes towards the stars, flickering in the night sky. He pauses before nodding to the bouncer, who drops his arm to allow me through.
‘Thank you,’ I say when I reach him.
He huffs at me, frustrated. ‘What do you want?’
‘A chance to apologise properly for slapping you. I should have known you wouldn’t… I misread the situation.’
‘Fine. You’ve apologised. You’re in the club. You’re free to go meet your friends.’ He sweeps an arm around the scene before us.
It is stunning. Thousands of twinkling fairy lights are strung around the stone perimeter walls of this ginormous open-air nightclub. My immediate impression is that of a luxury holiday resort with palm trees dotted about, huge sweeping white marble staircases leading to numerous balconies lined with white balustrades and supported by thick white columns that tower above the throng of people dancing below. I spot a huge central coliseum, housing a stage area with a group of singers performing on it. Above the sea of heads, glimmering lights snake their way around the gnarled and twisted branches of the olive trees that are liberally scattered about, creating an other-worldly, magical atmosphere. The club is jumping, there must be thousands here, and the music is unbelievably loud, but the effect is mind-blowing. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s an impenetrable wall of mixed nationalities all singing along to Inner Circle wanting to make us sweat as if we weren’t all sweating enough in the oven-like heat.
‘Let me get you a drink first.’
‘You want to buy me a drink?’ He makes it sound like a ludicrous suggestion.
‘I insist.’
