by Mandy Baggot
Alex smiled, his eyes holding hers before dropping back down to the paperwork.
Beth took a breath and fanned her face with her hand. It was already so warm, she almost couldn’t wait for the promised wind blowing through her hair, even if it was going to make her hair au-naturel waves again.
‘It is a manual,’ Alex said, ticking boxes.
‘OK.’
‘It has air conditioning.’
‘OK.’
‘Charles, he is your husband?’
Beth had been about to answer ‘OK’ for the third time until she realised exactly what Alex had asked her.
‘Yes.’ Why had she said yes?! She should be saying no. She was divorced. But now she was thumbing the ring still on her finger.
‘I mean… he was.’ God, that had felt ridiculously hard. Had she ever even had this conversation with anyone else since the split? She supposed most people she was in daily contact with had lived around the fallout and already knew. She had had one awkward conversation with the receptionist at the GP surgery, but almost every conversation she had ever had with the receptionist at the GP surgery had been awkward.
‘He has died?’ Alex exclaimed, eyes widening. ‘Beth, I am so very sorry.’ She didn’t get the chance to say anything else. Alex had put his arms round her, drawing her close, the firmness of that athletic body more muscular than she remembered; he seemed taller too and hotter… This was the part where she should be saying Charles wasn’t dead, he was very much alive and currently asking her opinion on investment portfolios. But the hug felt so good. Heidi wasn’t really a hugger. She’d once said her long limbs meant she always felt like a spider encasing a trapped fly and, after that, Beth had always thought twice about initiating contact. This connection with Alex, though, was warm and genuine, a cuddle to hold up as an example of the best of hugs.
‘Sorry,’ he said, stepping away suddenly, the contact broken. She wasn’t sure what he was apologising for. The fact her husband was dead? He wasn’t dead! She needed to say so.
‘Don’t be sorry because—’
‘Right!’ Heidi interrupted. ‘We need to get out of here before Tilly phones again.’
‘It was Tilly on the phone?’ Beth asked. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘I have no idea,’ Heidi admitted. ‘By the time I got the phone out of my bag she’d rung off.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m on holiday. If it’s urgent she’ll ring back or send an email.’ With that said, her phone began to sound again.
‘Keys, Mr DJ,’ Heidi said, hand out. ‘Give me the keys!’
Alex handed them to Heidi, and she was off, swinging round to the driver’s side of the vehicle like there was a deadline to meet somewhere. She started up the engine.
‘It looks like I’m riding shotgun,’ Beth stated. ‘For a mile or two at least.’
‘Here is a map of the island,’ Alex said. ‘And, if you do end up in Sidari tonight, there is a really great place to eat called The Hive.’
‘The Hive,’ Beth repeated, committing it to memory.
‘It is different,’ Alex explained. ‘It is outside but feels… inside.’ He smiled. ‘You will see.’
‘OK,’ Beth answered.
‘Come on, Beth!’ Heidi called over the roar of the engine. ‘Before the sun runs out.’
‘Thank you, for the car and for sorting out the builder,’ she said a little bashfully. She wanted to thank him for the hug too.
‘Oi! DJ!’ Heidi bellowed, beeping the horn. ‘Are we having a night out in Sidari tonight or what?’
‘Ignore her,’ Beth said immediately. ‘I’m sure you have better things to do than pretend you’re twenty-one.’
‘I… do have business to catch up on,’ he said.
‘It was nice to see you… again.’ Why couldn’t she think of something better to say? Oh yes, she needed to say her husband wasn’t dead. Ex-husband.
‘Come on, Beth!’ Heidi hollered.
‘See you,’ she said with a smile, scurrying to the passenger side of the car.
‘Have fun,’ Alex called to them both.
‘Always!’ Heidi answered, revving the SUV.
Fourteen
Loutses
‘This is not safe!’ Heidi shouted. Her voice echoed around the rocks surrounding the cavern they were descending in to, stepping down from the intense heat of the mid-morning into a slightly cooler earthy clime.
‘I think I said that about your driving,’ Beth answered, searching for the next best place to put her foot on the dusty, uneven track of tree roots and boulders.
‘Honestly, Beth, I don’t care what it says in the guide book, this is not tourist-friendly.’ Heidi was breathing heavily now, like she was in the middle of an extreme spin class. ‘There’s not a handrail or anything.’
‘That’s because it’s as nature intended,’ Beth said, jolting a little having misjudged the depth of the last step down. ‘Come on, Heidi, your sense of adventure was at a peak this morning and you’re all about being at one with all things organic.’
‘Mainly food stuffs,’ Heidi admitted. ‘How much further? Because my calves are tighter than Dave and Mikey at the bar on Pub Friday.’
‘Not far.’ She didn’t think. Although they were descending a whole lot deeper than she had imagined they would. It was probably best not to share that with Heidi at this stage though. She took a deep breath, to flood her lungs with much-needed oxygen and also to inhale the goodness of everything she was seeing and feeling part of. Pale, ancient rocks that had no doubt seen centuries of people – and probably donkeys – passing over them in the midst of leafy greenery, branches stretching skywards. It was simple, perfect beauty, unenhanced or changed by time. And yet, somehow, she still couldn’t stop thinking about bloody Mountbatten Global.
It had been Heidi who had got the job there first. Her best friend had never really had a clue what to do with her life career-wise, except to be open to all opportunities. When Beth had met her at college, Heidi had been holding a cup of green tea in one hand, a chocolate doughnut in the other and under her arm was a collection of course syllabuses ranging from – Advanced Maths (Unlocking the Mystery) to Nail Art (Shellac and The Shining). Beth had had to grab the doughnut before it hit the less-than-clean college carpet tiles and that seemingly inconsequential meeting had formed a lifelong bond.
Heidi, eventually equally qualified in Financial Strategy and Decision Making Mastery of Management and The Joy of Garbage, had jumped at the chance to begin working at a top-notch company for a fantastic starting salary package, plus a fast-track promotion pyramid for hard-workers and high-achievers. And with Beth floundering over her mum’s worsening illness, her friend had offered her a job lifeline and helped pick her up off the floor.
‘Fuck!’ Heidi cursed. ‘Something bit me!’
Beth froze, holding her foot from stepping down further. She looked back at Heidi, concerned. ‘Another mosquito?’
‘Yeah, with teeth like it was something out of Jaws.’ Heidi had stopped descending and was looking down at her ankle area. Beth had thought twice about coming here when she saw Heidi had opted for sandals and not something more substantial. She was wearing designer fabric lace ups that one of Charles’s client’s wives had produced for charity. She wasn’t really sure they were ever meant to be actually worn…
‘Heidi, seriously, was it an insect? Because there are… kind of… snakes on Corfu.’
‘What the fuck?!’ Heidi screamed. The word ‘fuck’ reverberated round them and a couple of birds took flight from branches. ‘Are you serious?’
Beth carefully turned round on the spot, then picked her way back up over the stones towards her friend.
‘Culture, you said,’ Heidi spoke, a wobble to her voice. ‘Not wildlife. Snakes are wildlife. Please tell me none of them are poisonous, right?’
Beth didn’t respond right away, focusing on getting on a level with Heidi in case she fell… or ran away.
‘I’m not hearing anything, Beth!’
‘OK?’ Beth asked, smiling at her reassuringly.
‘No, I’m not bloody OK! I want a beach and the sea and a beet berry smoothie.’
‘Breathe,’ Beth encouraged. ‘There’s only one poisonous snake on Corfu and it spends most of its time hiding.’
‘Under craggy rocks like these, right?!’
‘Well… maybe… but it’s unlikely that it’s bitten you, really.’
‘I’m not hearing “impossible”.’
‘I can’t see any snakes around,’ Beth said, eyes flashing over the undergrowth. Any sensible reptile would have slithered a mile away with all the noise that Heidi was making. ‘Where do you think you were bitten?’
‘I don’t know. On my leg down there, at the bottom of my cut-offs.’ Heidi closed her eyes. ‘I can’t look.’
Beth bent down to observe Heidi’s skin, slightly fearful of seeing any mark that resembled two pin holes… although most of her knowledge of snake bites was more the cider and blackcurrant kind. Again, like everything, years ago. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the problem.
‘Are these shorts new?’
‘Has the snake fucking ruined them?’
‘No,’ Beth said. She pulled hard.
‘Ow! What are you doing?’
Beth rose up, a thin line of plastic in between her fingers, a tiny rectangle on the end. ‘You left one of the tags on. It must have dug in to your leg, that’s all.’ She grabbed at Heidi’s waistband. ‘There’s another one here.’ She tugged and removed that too.
‘Is this where I’m supposed to be grateful?’
‘Well, at least we found them before we entered a bar with a raft of hot women looking at you wondering why you’d got a plastic tag hanging out of your arse.’
A smile crossed Heidi’s face and she let out a laugh of pure exhilaration. ‘Oh my God, if me panicking about nature has got you to say “arse” it’s all been worth it.’ She sniffed, contemplating. ‘When did you stop saying “arse”.’
‘I don’t know,’ Beth admitted. But she knew she had. Just like she knew she had stopped shopping in Primark even though she’d wanted to, and had made soup even though it took three hours and seemed to cost more than even the artisan stuff in Waitrose. Her life with Charles had changed her and she needed to work out what parts of the original her she wanted back. Perhaps, albeit unconventional, it was all going to start with a word for butt hole.
‘Say “arse” again,’ Heidi encouraged.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Beth said with a giggle.
‘Say it!’ Heidi ordered. ‘Let’s bounce it around the cavey-ness.’
‘This is mad.’
‘This is… FREEDOM!’ Heidi roared, the word circling in the air then coming back round again. She looked at Beth, eyes bright, cheeks ruddy from the exercise of getting down the ravine. ‘Let it go, Beth Martin-formerly-Mountbatten-formerly-Martin.’
Beth leant back, sucking in air in preparation then…
‘ARSE!’ she wailed, following it up with a triumphant whoop.
‘Yes!’ Heidi answered. ‘That’s my best friend!’
Fifteen
The Vault, Sidari
It was the very first time Alex had been to the new-for-this-season nightclub. And he knew he really shouldn’t be here now. Having dropped a hire car to the Beach Star hotel, he now had thirty minutes before he collected his next vehicle. This was rare. Usually his every day was tied up to the minute. Ordinarily, when this did happen to happen, he would grab a beer at a bar overlooking the sea and the strip of golden sand and revel in a brief stop to the chaos. He would sip the drink slowly, close his eyes and allow himself to dream. Where in the world did he wish he was? Where would he go if the universe was his to pick a spot in? Ibiza. It was always Ibiza.
Today though, with the idea of the DJ set at the weekend, Elektra’s encouragement-cum-blackmail and old times revisiting in the form of Beth, he had been driven here. Sidari. Standing outside a nightclub on the main strip, the air thick with nostalgia as well as hinting at fresh starts.
‘It’s so good to see you, man,’ Dimitri said, patting Alex’s shoulder and beckoning him through the thick, ornate doors that looked like they led to the Great Hall at Hogwarts. His friend was wearing dark trousers and a slightly too-tight T-shirt Alex guessed was meant to be that way. It was white and had The Vault written in electric purple down one side.
‘Is it OK to drop in like this?’ he asked. ‘I don’t have long, I just thought I could… take a look at the place.’ He followed his friend into a plush-looking reception hall, all white pleather and high gloss, with mirrors everywhere.
‘Sure! Come through, come through,’ Dimitri said, leading on along a corridor lined with black flocked wallpaper, uplighters casting neon towards the ceiling. It was a cut above any of the bars and clubs he had performed at back in the day.
‘You want to see where you will be working on Saturday, huh?’ Dimitri asked, turning to look at him and grinning.
He should say yes now. That was why he was here, to get a feel for the club… but he hadn’t actually accepted the gig. He was working on the assumption that the closer it got to the night the more confident he would feel.
‘Come into the heart of The Vault,’ Dimitri said theatrically, pausing at a set of large black lacquered double doors.
There was a ‘whoosh’ as Dimitri leant his weight against the woodwork and the interior of the main room was revealed. It stole Alex’s breath and he had to hold back from a ‘wow’ making it past his lips.
Music you couldn’t hear from the foyer pumped out loud through speakers hanging round the room as they stepped inside. A bright, shining chrome and multi-coloured lit bar took over one whole side of the enormous room, the rest of the white walls housed more of the studded pleather seating, circling round an enormous dancefloor, parts of which flashed colour to the beat of the drum and bass.
‘It is amazing, yes?’ Dimitri stated over the sound, nudging Alex with his elbow.
It was amazing. But was it too amazing? He had barely mixed music for his own pleasure lately, it was over a year since he had last performed at all and it had been on a much smaller scale – a birthday party at a small taverna. Nothing professional, a favour for a friend, everyone too wrapped up in eating and drinking to really find fault with him. But here, playing here, there would be regular club-goers, patrons who knew their music, wanted a buzz, the thrill that came from the ultimate Ministry-of-Sound-esque experience. Could he do that? That was his dream but, seeing this place, it was overwhelming… and this was when the club was empty. He swallowed, imagining hundreds of revellers pumping their arms in the air, glo-bracelets adorning wrists, smiles and sweat and adrenaline…
‘Come,’ Dimitri said. ‘Let me show you the digital controllers we have.’
Gone were the days of manual decks, he knew that, and it was all a different feel, not having vinyl beneath his fingers. But the skill still came from the timing, just like before. But he was walking forward on nervous legs, being driven on by curiosity and determination. This was his dream. This had always been his dream. Why was he doubting it the moment the first real opportunity came along?
They walked up an ornate spiralling staircase almost into the rafters of the building. Up here it was cave-like, the design optimum for sound, and the DJ booth was perched hanging over one end of the impressive floor space like the person in control of the turntables was an icon to be worshipped. Now his chest was feeling a little tight and whatever Dimitri was saying sounded so far away… Alex shook his head, trying to loosen up.
‘Play around if you like,’ Dimitri said. He waved a hand at someone down below, near the impressive bar. ‘I’ve got a delivery to take in.’
Play around. Alex could see that this equipment, like the rest of the club, was as state of the art as it got. Illuminated hot cues, an impressive touch screen… The controller seemed to be growing in size the longer he looked at it, the jog wheel turning into a scary, sc
owling face, with teeth. He was being stupid. What was the matter with him?
He looked at the screen, listening to the track, feeling the beat. He closed his eyes, remembering 2009. Beth and Heidi jumping up and down in front of his much smaller music office, to a mix of Eric Prydz and Cascada. They had been enthusiastic dancers, glo-pen drawings up their arms – flowers and hearts and sunshine – hair wild, lips slick with gloss, skin radiant from the day’s heat. From the minute he first saw Beth, after the immediate physical thrum, something else inside him woke up. Somehow, simply by the way she swayed to the dance tracks, he could tell the songs and the moment meant more to her than a regular Saturday night out. And when he’d finally got up the nerve to approach her, and they’d talked, he knew she was all about experiencing and experimenting, sucking the life-juices out of every scenario. Perhaps it was the casualness of youth, yet the connection they had made had been as real as it got for him and he couldn’t deny she had been somewhere in the background of his mind all this time. His last girlfriend had worked out as much and he hadn’t cared about her enough to deny it. She hadn’t been the only one. Frankly, no one ever felt quite right. Still, Saturday night was edging nearer, and everyone still wanted to hang out with the DJ, didn’t they?
He held out his hand to touch a button, fingers shaking, stomach revolving like an old-school record. He should not feel glad that Beth’s husband was dead. He stopped short of pressing and took a breath. She had been married. She had loved someone enough to make a commitment to them. He was simply someone she used to know. He had to move on. But standing here, he felt sick. He was scared to even touch anything. He wanted this gig to give him an injection of confidence to move forward with. He needed to prove to himself this was what he wanted his life to be. But if he couldn’t even press a damn button, how was he going to make it in Ibiza? He stepped back from the music station. Maybe he needed to face facts. Perhaps all he would ever be was the part-owner of a small holding or Toula’s deputy at Corfu Motion. Was the kumquat idea really going to take off? His mobile phone started to ring and he pulled it from the pocket of his trousers. Mitera. Mother.