Camping with Nessie

Worries

 “It's a shame! A shame!”

Ann curled up, wrapped up in a blanket, in the back of the van, with Roger kneeling down beside her. He had put on his white boxers again, after what happened. They managed to get rid of the group of tourists, but Ann was being paranoid because of them. She knew they had recognised Roger, and as they saw her too, she was sure that the press would soon know about it all. Perhaps there would be pictures of the van, or awful comics about them and how they have been discovered. Perhaps they would even be harassed the day after!

Roger wrapped an arm around her shoulders, burying his lips in her hair. He rocked her gently, and stared at her lovingly. Contrary to her, he did not seem much bothered by what had happened: anyway he was used to the press invading his privacy. However, he was deeply worried about her, but tried not to show it. He did not want her to become a tool for the newspapers and he wanted to protect her. Since his career began, he always did his best to hide her from all the mass attention, wanting her to keep living her quiet and peaceful life, being unnoticed. If he had wanted to expose her, he would have dated her.

She buried her face in her hands, trying to refrain from crying. She did not want to be exposed. She did not want people to harass them. She wanted to be alone with Roger, for the first time in what seemed to be ages, and everything was spoiled by a group of curious tourists. Now, she had to get used to journalists knocking at her door and asking her embarrassing questions about Roger, just to feed their articles with unhealthy information.

“Ann” Roger whispered “it's going to be fine, I promise. They did not take any picture, otherwise we would have seen it. And if I find an article about what happened, I'll sue the source. They're breaking a law, technically we would win.”

“I don't want them to knock at my door or be waiting at my window for me to wake up, only to ask me questions about you and me!”

“You know what? Tomorrow, in the morning, I'm going to find a telephone somewhere, and I'll ring Pete, Keith and John. I'll ask them to keep an eye on the press while we're gone, if it can reassure you.”

“How could they tell us if there were articles?” Ann replied. “We're in the middle of nowhere!! They can't call us if there's a problem, because telephones you can carry with you don't exist!”

“Darling, don't be pessimistic like that. We'll find a way to keep an eye on the press. They won't harm you, I promise.”

“It's not about harming, Roger, it's about being harassed everyday and having my face on covers next to yours!”

“Oh, is it that bad? I know that being harassed everyday is hell, I can understand your fear about it, but perhaps the press won't even be informed about what happened! Don't worry much, I'll ring the guys tomorrow in town, and I'll tell them to make sure that such articles won't be published.”

“They can't do much.”

Roger sighed and ran a desperate hand through his golden curls. Ann was stubborn. On the one hand, she was not completely wrong to worry about all the image medias would give of them both, and even expose herself; on the other hand, it was possible to avoid it all, since invading their privacy in such a way was breaking the law. Anyway, who would read anything about Roger Daltrey's sexual life?

Basically everybody.

He heaved a long sigh and faced her, cupping her sweet face in his hands.

“I have an idea. If we discover that the press has been told about what happened, we're not going to end our cool and interesting trip, are we? It's only beginning! And going back to London won't make things go better. So here's the thing: if tomorrow, Pete, John or Keith tell me they saw something about it, we're changing our spot. We'll go on the other side of the Loch Ness, what do you think? The tourists will probably come back to this spot just to see us again, and they won't leave us alone. If we change our spot, they won't be able to.”