The Fault

by Kitty Sewell

  ‘He’s not discovered your number. It’s got to be some guy stalking you over there. I mean, honestly Eva, you’re not exactly hard on the eye.’

  Eva felt the goosebumps puckering her arms even though the temperature was well up in the thirties.

  ‘Perhaps. Hopefully, that’s the explanation.’

  Another bout of wet cough. ‘Goddarn, sweetie pie, you practically gave me a heart attack, waking me up at this hour.’

  ‘Please don’t be mad at me,’ Eva pleaded.

  ‘I’m not, I’m not,’ Linda reassured her. ‘Trust me. You’re safe. I’d never betray you.’

  ‘Oh, Linda, I miss you. I could sure use a friend right now.’ She realised how true this was. She was madly in love with an amazing guy, so why had she not told him about the phone calls, why did she feel so alone with it, so removed from who she tried to represent…so fake? As though she were living someone else’s life and soon she’d be exposed for who she was, and sent back to where she belonged.

  ‘I’m always here,’ said Linda soothingly. ‘I’m always at the end of the phone. Just call me whenever. I don’t care if you wake me up. Just ignore my cursing and coughing, okay sweetie pie?’

  ‘Okay, buddy. I better go. My new little sister is waiting for a great big gin and tonic.’

  ‘Love you, kiddo.’

  ‘Same here, Linda. And quit smoking, ya’ hear.’

  She stood for a while in the shade of the Rock, looking out over Catalan Bay. She peered across the water. Wasn’t that Jonny Risso’s boat bobbing in the distance? Probably just wishful thinking. With a surge of dread running through her, she felt an impulse to just swim out. There, curving eastward, was Spain, the golden beaches of the Spanish costas. She was a strong swimmer, she’d make it easily if the tides were right.

  At the same time she hated her own fear and knew that, to be truly free, she ought to be considering a trip back to California and a confrontation with Adrian. She’d so hoped and prayed he’d meet someone new and forget about her, but even that left her a bad taste in her mouth; how could she possibly wish him on some other unsuspecting woman? She was a coward, and it was easier to cover her ears, eyes and mouth, and live life in the present. It was easier to forget, or if she couldn’t forget, just keep running…

  She wandered down to the little bar and the throng of sun-worshipping Yanitoswaiting to be served. She jostled with all that bronzed flesh, determined to put the silent breather out of her mind and enter the pervading spirit of carefree hedonism.

  Finally a topless young barman with an amazing head of hair and a stunning smile (why wasn’t Mimi attracted to someone like him?) came to her rescue and she ordered two extra-large gin and tonics with plenty of ice.

  Sebastian

  He sat in the kitchen in just his boxer shorts, a large fan directed onto his face. The papers on the table fluttered wildly and he kept moving cups and glasses around to hold them down.

  Mimi and Eva were spending the day at the beach. He’d seen them off, blown them kisses down the stairs. Their earnest imploring to join them made him feel both deeply loved and incredibly sad. For a moment he’d been torn with indecision. Part of him longed for a family getaway, time for the three of them to have a bit of fun and relaxation together. There was so much he’d needed to engage with Mimi about, (a serious conversation about her relationship with Montegriffo was long overdue) and the sheer pleasure of watching Eva’s graceful form in a bikini, see her laughing and carefree…she’d looked heartachingly disappointed when he forced himself to say no. He had so much work to do, so many ideas to be harnessed, committed to paper. He couldn’t afford to let them run out in the sand, literally.

  In addition, he had made a commitment to write an article on Sustainable Development of Critical Infrastructure for the Arab Association for Bridge and Structural Engineering. Normally he would write such a paper with his eyes closed, but he kept stopping and starting, wondering if he was giving too much away. The multihazard-resistant bridge supports of flexible concrete-filled steel tubes was one of his designs that had been adopted without his personal involvement, and he’d grown wary of his ideas being plagiarised.

  He picked up and scrutinised a page covered in his spidery black scribbles and doodles. His brain was tired and he couldn’t quite recall what he’d meant by them. He was working too hard, sleeping too little, and this lapse of memory had happened more than once in the last few days. It worried him. How was it possible that he could see something with such brilliant clarity and, only hours later, have forgotten the actual basis of the idea?

  What was worse, some sketches showing the structure of Luna’s Crossing’s keels had gone missing. He’d looked high and low for them, their disappearance a total mystery. It was almost a case of wondering if someone could have stolen them, but he knew that was just plain stupid. No-one but Eva and Mimi knew he was working on an important private project, a concept so innovative it would leave the world agape.

  He knew he’d have to wait, perhaps years. His name must have a chance to grow, his work become famous, not just within the engineering world but among ordinary people: city councils, governments and heads of nations. Then he could propose the un-proposable. Let’s face it, just half a century ago the Channel Tunnel had seemed a totally screwball concept.

  The day passed quickly, too quickly. He’d forgotten to eat and was suddenly very hungry. He heard the girls come home from the beach, chatting. Mimi, who’d been so aloof since the move, was giggling uncontrollably. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think they’d been out drinking. It was lovely to hear them get on. Mimi seemed to be softening towards Eva; these days he often heard them talking in the kitchen, and a trip to the beach together was bound to improve their relationship. It was probably just as well he’d stayed behind. Nothing would make his life more perfect than if his two ladies grew to be close friends.

  *

  He knew that cutting down on his tablets had its side effects. He was lying in that narrow bed beside a beautiful woman but he was uncomfortably awake and wishing the hours to pass. So many concerns traded places in his mind. When his legs became jittery and his heart fluttered in his chest, he turned to watch Eva’s sleeping face. Even though something wasn’t right with her – and that something made him very uneasy – the sight and smell of her still calmed him.

  At dawn he began to hear movements in the apartment below. What was the guy doing at five o’clock in the bloody morning? He tried to rationalise that there was nothing sinister about a man who went to dawn Mass or got up early to write poetry, or some other sissy pursuit. It was his unhealthy interest in Mimi that didn’t tally, or perhaps it did just that. A paedophile in sheep’s clothing, or priest’s cassock. He stifled a laugh, even though the thought made him queasy.

  Suddenly he realised that Eva had gone. The light had changed, and he could see he’d overslept. His watch said ten past ten. Flying out of bed he pulled on a pair of shorts and stumbled to the kitchen. The kitchen window was open and Montegriffo’s black cat was up on the kitchen counter, looking right at home. He waved his arms and shouted wildly at it. Leisurely it hopped down and out of the window onto a branch of the Eucalyptus.

  Eva appeared at the door. ‘What’s the matter, honey?’

  ‘The damned cat again.’

  ‘It brought us half a bird this morning. That means he likes us.’ She went up to give Sebastian a kiss, her cool lips like silk on his. He felt a sudden rush of desire, and was about to grab her around the waist and press his hardness against her when she moved away.

  She put the kettle on. ‘I’ve got my first assignment in a couple of hours,’ she said.

  ‘Hey! Good for you, baby. Make sure you tie up your hair. I don’t want to lose you to some smarmy rich boy.’

  ‘It’s three women, actually – Italian – wanting to dive through the interior of the S.S. Excellent. It’s an easy start. Beautiful though; it sank in 1888.’ She sliced some bread and began to anoint it
with Marmite, topping it with peanut butter. ‘Here, get this down you. I can see you’ve lost weight.’

  He took the slice from her and sat down to eat it. He wasn’t really hungry; he hardly ever was these days.

  Eva was hovering by his side.

  ‘What’s up, sweetie?’ he said, putting out an arm and drawing her onto his lap. ‘You nervous about the dive?’

  ‘I need to tell you something,’ she hesitated.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It’s about a man back home.’

  He stiffened. Here it was, something he’d always suspected but didn’t really want to know.

  ‘You still love him?’ he asked, then biting his lip knowing he should let her do the talking. ‘Is that why you don’t want to marry me?’

  ‘Don’t make wild assumptions,’ she said with a small laugh. ‘It’s you I love.’

  ‘So what do you want to say about him?’ He’d felt this presence, the man hovering in her past. Someone she could not let go of.

  She moved on his lap to face him. ‘We’ve not talked about this, we’ve not talked about anything, and we need to. I need to.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said cautiously.

  Eva looked away. ‘When I lived with him, he told me if I ever left him, he’d come looking for me and kill me.’

  He peered into her face, wanting to read between the words. What did this mean? People kill for love, he’d heard this, read this. But it was also a figure of speech, surely.

  ‘But you’re here now, with me. I assume he’s back there.’ He paused. ‘Is he?’

  ‘I hope so,’ she said, ‘but listen; I’ve had some silent phone calls. I’m scared of him, Sebastian. He might have figured out where I am.’

  ‘How could he have worked that out?’ he said, trying to sound neutral. ‘You’re about the most elusive and secretive woman I’ve ever known. He can’t know where you are if you haven’t kept in touch with him.’

  ‘Don’t be naïve, Sebastian. There are ways. Especially if you’re a federal agent. He’s evil: he made my life a living hell for years.’

  He looked her in the eye. ‘For years… You must have really loved him to stay with him for years. If he was that bad, why didn’t you just leave him?’

  Eva jumped off his lap, her face reddening. ‘Not you too!’ she cried. ‘It’s a damned cliché: why didn’t you just leave him?’ She aped his question with bitterness. ‘Everybody comes out with the same inane comments. When you’ve been bullied and stomped on, threatened, intimidated, beaten and humiliated, you lose the person you are. You become weak and scared. I’m sure you’ve heard of women who stay a lifetime with abusive husbands. Why don’t they just leave? Because they’re scared to death, that’s why, and more often have nowhere to turn. No-one helps you, no-one wants to get involved just in case they themselves become subjects of his threats and abuse.’

  He felt almost cowed by her tirade. ‘Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I just don’t understand it.’

  She shook her head. ‘Of course you don’t. You live in a bubble. This guy is an FBI agent. What chance have I got against someone in his position? It was always his word against mine.’

  ‘Come here,’ he said, reaching for her and drawing her back into his arms. He smoothed her hair, trying to calm her. ‘Let’s talk no more about this arsehole. If he comes anywhere near you, he’s got me to contend with.’

  ‘Yes, but what…’

  ‘Shhh,’ he said and put a finger on her soft lips. ‘I’ll protect you. With my life.’

  He felt exhausted by that strained interaction and hoped she’d come back excited about the dive and not wanting to pick up where they’d left off. He looked forward to hearing her account of it, no doubt peppered with witty asides about her customers. But her keen sense of humour seemed to have wilted lately. Maybe that was down to the man who wanted to find her. The man who was still in her life.

  He got up from the table and stretched. He needed to get dressed and ready for the taxi to take him to the site. Eva had claimed the wardrobe when they traded bedrooms with Mimi; his clothes had been relegated to the hall closet. He took out some clean shorts and a shirt.

  Hesitating a moment, he went back into the room, moving towards her wardrobe, and put his hand around the ceramic door knob. The door was jammed, having been warped and distorted with age, and the wood squeaked loudly when he pulled it open.

  Carefully he handled the clothes on the hangers. There weren’t many garments and few had pockets. He passed his hands amongst the modest piles of T-shirts, tops and jeans. A shoebox held her underwear, the only items of clothing that revealed a splash of extravagance. He picked up a pair of lace knickers and pressed them to his face.

  The wardrobe had a bottom shelf and he pulled out her suitcase, placing it on the floor. He let his hand slide through the side pockets. He opened the clasps and pushed back the lid. The inside was lined with a silky material in blue and yellow stripes. The cloth was so old and worn it was coming apart at the seams. He could see she’d made an attempt to hold it together, having stitched it roughly with blue cotton. With the flat of his hand he patted the sides. He stopped and nodded: it was definitely still there, behind the lining.

  He’d discovered an object there on her very first day in Gib, when he’d been helping her put her things away at the Rock Hotel. She’d whipped the suitcase from his hands but not before he’d spotted the stitching and felt the foreign body slide sideways behind the lining.

  Now he got his nail scissors and carefully unpicked another seam, then eased out the slim volume. It was an American passport. He opened it and saw it wasn’t the one he knew, belonging to his fiancée Eva Eriksson.

  But it was Eva’s face in the photo. The name under it, however, was Chantelle Hepping. He read the name over and over, scrutinising the image. Chantelle Hepping? Who the hell was she?

  Mimi

  She hesitated on the first landing, then checked her phone. It was only nine in the morning, but Carlo had probably left for work already. Just standing there was lame, so the moment decided itself. She lifted a knuckle and tapped on the door.

  She heard sounds behind it but it took a while to open. Carlo, dressed in a bathrobe, looked ill at ease when he saw it was her. She wondered whether the chastity story was a great big fib, and he’d had a woman staying the night.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, shrinking slightly. ‘I’m off for a walk up the Rock and just wondered if you’d be free to continue our tour of the place.’ She gestured at his bathrobe. ‘No worries, another time, maybe.’

  Carlo looked at her brand-new trainers. ‘Don’t venture up there on your own, Imogen…’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It’s not advisable for a young woman alone. I’d be happy to take you some other day.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she shrugged. ‘You can’t get lost up there, now, can you?’

  ‘Believe it or not, it’s easy to get lost if you go off the road.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m a big girl, and I’ve got a phone.’

  ‘I would love to accompany you, but I’ve got a commitment this morning.’

  ‘Like I said, no worries.’

  Sebastian

  He was working at the kitchen table while Eva was peeling veggies at the sink. She’d been very quiet the last few days since telling him about the man who wanted her dead, and he knew he should encourage her to talk about it.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he said.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Any more of those phone calls?’

  ‘If I said yes, what would you do?’ she asked.

  He thought carefully about his answer. ‘Next time, let me talk to him.’

  There was a movement at the window and he dashed over to shoo the black cat from the tree. There had been enough offerings of parts of birds, rats and mice in the kitchen, his work space. He couldn’t abide it: it was worse than the image of Mrs. Cohen hanging from a beam. He leaned out of the window and clapped his hands loudly,
while the cat moved leisurely through the branches, turning occasionally to give him an insolent stare.

  The sound of girlish laughter wafted up the patio. Perhaps it was the Moroccan family that had moved into the next house on the ramp, but no, their apartment couldn’t have windows to the patio.

  Again he heard the laughter.

  ‘Where is Mimi?’ he asked.

  Eva looked up. ‘She said she was going for a walk up the Rock. She’s on a mission to get fit and quit smoking.’

  There it was again.

  ‘Come here,’ he said to Eva whilst leaning further out of the window. ‘Isn’t that Mimi laughing?’

  Eva leaned out too, but the laugh had stopped. ‘I can’t hear a thing,’ she said.

  He sat stock still on the window ledge. Eva went back to the sink, turned the tap on and began rinsing the vegetables.

  ‘Shhhh,’ he said, putting up a hand. ‘That’s Mimi, alright.’

  He jumped down from the window. ‘She is down in Montegriffo’s apartment. Bloody hell! I’m not happy about this.’

  He marched towards the bedroom to put a T-shirt on.

  ‘Sebastian, where are you going? Don’t make a scene. Talk to her when she comes back.’