by Paige Toon
‘Leave it,’ Carmen snaps, and I already know she’s not someone to be trifled with. ‘I’ll do it tomorrow,’ she adds more complacently.
I make a silent plan to beat her to it. I have nothing else to do tomorrow and I have to make myself useful somehow.
I try to stifle a yawn, but it’s impossible. I don’t know why I’m so tired, considering I slept in the car.
‘Would anyone be offended if I called it a night?’ I ask.
‘No,’ she replies.
‘I’m so tired,’ I add for good measure.
‘I hope we don’t keep you up,’ she says, but I’m not sure she means it. I still don’t get any indication that she cares about my feelings one iota. But maybe that will change with time. I want it to change. I hate animosity.
‘You won’t. I’ll be out like a light.’
I pop my head around the door to say goodnight to Jorge, Javier and Eric, and then climb the stairs to ‘my’ bedroom. I wonder where Leo sleeps. I feel on edge as I think about him, but soon I’m not thinking of anything as I fall into a deep, deep sleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I come to, feeling strangely disorientated. Something has woken me up, but what? I lift my head sleepily. There, in the doorway, is a dark figure. He’s breathing heavily – I can see his chest rising and falling from here – but I can’t tell if he’s angry, freaked-out or something else.
I find my voice. ‘Leo?’
‘Go back to sleep,’ he mutters in a low voice, pulling the door shut and stomping down the corridor and up the stairs.
Easier said than done, my friend. Easier said than done.
Miraculously, I do manage to doze off again, but the house is silent when I wake. I sit up in bed and survey my surroundings. Dawn spills beneath the blinds – it must be early morning and I’m relieved to have some time to get my head together before I have to face anyone. I had to go to sleep wearing nothing but a T-shirt last night. I must call the airport today and ask about my suitcase. I remember Leo appearing at my doorway during the night and it makes me feel uneasy. He went upstairs. I guess that’s where his room is. I wonder if I should go and talk to him. No. He’ll probably be out cold; anyway, I still feel nervous about the idea of facing him, let alone going into his room.
I climb out of bed and pull on my clothes. I’ll go shopping this morning for a couple of things to get me by. Thank goodness for hand luggage – at least I have my purse and passport. I can manage without everything else.
I study my reflection in the mirror and wipe the sleep from my eyes. I run my hands through my light-blonde hair and, when that doesn’t work, try to muss it up a bit. If it’s going to look just-slept-in, it may as well look stylishly just-slept-in. I sigh and go out of the door and tread quietly down the stairs. To my surprise, Jorge is sitting at the dining-room table, drinking a coffee and reading the newspaper.
‘Hi!’ he exclaims with a bright smile. ‘Sleep well?’
‘Yes, thanks.’ I don’t mention Leo’s appearance in my doorway. ‘Is it early?’ I ask him with confusion. Are there no clocks in this house?
‘Seven thirty,’ he tells me. ‘I’m working today.’
Oh yeah, he’s a dive instructor. They start early.
‘Another course?’ I ask, pulling up a chair.
‘Fresh recruits,’ he replies jovially. ‘What about you? Have you got any plans?’
I take a deep breath. ‘I probably just need to focus on switching my phone back on.’
He offers me a compassionate smile.
‘I’ll also call the airport and try to sort out my bags.’ I hesitate. ‘Do you think Carmen would kill me if I tidied up a bit?’
‘Are you kidding? She hates housework more than anything.’
‘Oh, good,’ I say with relief.
Jorge folds up his paper and downs the last of his drink before standing up. ‘Help yourself to coffee,’ he tells me. ‘I’ve got to get off.’
‘Okay.’ Pause. ‘Is . . . Leo working with you today?’
‘No.’ He gives a curt shake of his head. ‘Not until tomorrow. Today we’re in the pool.’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’
He tuts. ‘You forget so quickly.’
‘I don’t want to forget. I might have to go for another dive sometime.’
‘Absolutely,’ he agrees wholeheartedly. ‘You’ve come to the right place.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, and mean it more than he can ever know.
‘You’re welcome.’ He makes to leave.
‘I really mean it,’ I blurt out, making him turn around. He notices my eyes welling up and his face falls. ‘Don’t worry, I’m okay. I’ll be okay,’ I tell him in a hurry. I don’t want him to be late for work. ‘But I just want you to know that I appreciate what you’re doing for me.’
‘You’d do the same for me,’ he says simply.
Well, yes, I would, but how can he be so sure of that?
‘What has happened to you . . . Well, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.’ He pats me on my shoulder and then he’s gone.
I wait until Carmen is out of the house before I start on the housework. She’s working in the gift shop today, she tells me. Javier and Eric are nowhere to be seen, but I don’t imagine they’ll care much what I get up to. Then of course there’s Leo. And there’s no way I can predict how he’ll react.
I start by lifting the dirty dishes out of the sink and placing them in a pile so perilous that even Carmen would be proud of me. I run hot water and clean out the dirty sink first, then look around for washing-up liquid. There’s some in the cupboard under the sink, along with a very old washing-up brush. I decide to buy a new one today, but for now I’ll have to make do. There’s nowhere to put the clean dishes, so to start with I have to dry up and put away as I go along, but soon I clear a space next to the sink where I can let them drain. It’s methodical work and it takes my mind off things. It’s the first time I’ve washed up in weeks, and I find I actually enjoy it. I think of the state our apartment was in when I left it – I could barely drag myself out of bed to get to work, let alone tackle the housework. Matthew did most of it, and so he bloody should. He rendered me incapable of doing anything, I think blackly. I wonder if he’s at the airport yet and I feel a tiny prickle of guilt when I realise I’ve really dropped Marty and Bridget in it. They’ll have to explain. I feel bad for them, but right now I need to put myself first. Nobody else is.
When the dishes are clean and in the cupboards, I wipe over the counters before tackling the cooker. It’s practically sparkling when I’ve finished and I’m properly pleased with myself. I hope Carmen is, too. Funny that I should care what she thinks, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. I study the cupboards and realise I could clean them as well, but I decide to save them for another day. I remember the dirty coffee table in the living room. That’s what I’ll tackle next. And I know the living-room floor could do with a mop. Then, with a frown, I notice the dirty kitchen floor and find myself sighing. Nope, I can’t move onto the living room until the kitchen is finished. Where would I find a mop? There isn’t one in the kitchen, but this is a big house. I bet there’s a laundry room here somewhere. I set off out of the room with determination and walk smack bang into Leo.
‘Oh!’ I gasp.
I stare up at him. He’s never looked more intense. I don’t think he’s angry, but he sure as hell doesn’t look happy to see me. He looks almost . . . hurt. But can that be right?
He takes a step backwards.
‘Sorry,’ I murmur, tearing my eyes away from him. He says nothing, but the immediate awkwardness is broken and he steps around me into the kitchen. He stands there for a moment, surveying the scene.
‘Did you do this?’
I take a deep, shaky breath and nod, even though he’s not looking at me. I add, ‘Yes,’ but it comes out sounding croaky so I clear my throat. ‘I had nothing else to do.’
He goes to the cupboard next to the fridge and gets out an espresso cup, fl
icking on the kettle.
‘You want one?’ he asks without looking at me.
‘Sure.’
He gets another cup out of the cupboard and reaches for the instant coffee, muttering under his breath as he spoons it out. He likes it strong. He’s wearing his battered blue jeans with a crumpled black T-shirt, which he could have slept in. His hair is messier than normal, partly falling down across his forehead and he has a shadow of stubble across his jaw. He looks dishevelled and hung over, but oh so hot.
‘Sugar?’
I come to with a start. ‘Please. One. Only in coffee.’
He spoons three into his own cup, and I have to bite my tongue from saying anything. ‘Carmen really needs to get a machine,’ he mutters more loudly this time. ‘I hate this instant shit.’
‘There’s a good coffee shop down the road,’ I say hesitantly. ‘Do you want me to go and get you one?’
He glances over his shoulder and looks momentarily amused. ‘I think you’ve done enough work for one morning, don’t you? It’s only ten o’clock.’ He hands over my coffee, his dark eyes flicking up to meet mine.
‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the cup gratefully. I never did make one for myself after Jorge left. ‘What time did you come back last night?’ I find myself asking.
‘I have no idea,’ he says grumpily as he leans back against the counter and slurps from his cup.
I remain standing gawkily in the middle of the room. ‘Jorge said you haven’t been here much this weekend . . .’
‘How would Jorge know that?’ he asks calmly. ‘He’s been in Miami.’
I realise my mistake. ‘Sorry, I meant Carmen.’
‘Doesn’t she have anything better to do than talk about me when I’m not here?’ It’s a rhetorical question, so he doesn’t wait for me to answer. ‘Apparently not,’ he adds for good measure.
I’m guessing he’d react badly if I told him they were also talking about his mother, so naturally I keep that quiet.
‘Did you sleep well?’ he asks me, pushing off from the counter and nodding in the direction of the living room. I lead the way through.
‘Not too bad, considering.’ Considering my husband now has a baby son who isn’t mine . . . Considering Leo appeared at my doorway in the middle of the night . . . I don’t say either of these things out loud. ‘How about you?’
‘Not too bad, considering . . .’
I glance back at him. ‘Considering what?’ I can’t help asking.
‘Considering the elephant crashing around in my kitchen.’ He says it lightly, and I raise one eyebrow at him.
‘Are you calling me an elephant?’ I ask drily.
‘I had no idea someone so small could make so much noise,’ he teases as we sit down. ‘How on earth my nephew is sleeping through that . . .’
I smile. ‘Did you see him last night when you came back?’ I’m still curious to know what time that was.
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘He was already in bed.’
‘How did you know . . .’ that I was here? I finish the sentence inside my head.
‘Jorge left me a note,’ he replies, studying his fingernails.
I really want to know what that note said. Does he know what happened at the airport? Curiosity gets the better of me.
‘What did it say?’ I ask cautiously.
He delves into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, handing it over.
Laura is here. In your mother’s bedroom. Will explain tomorrow.
So he knows nothing. I look up at him with surprise. ‘You don’t even know I bumped into him and Javier at the airport?’
He looks surprised. ‘Did you?’
‘I had just spoken to Matthew. My husband,’ I add, although I can see in his eyes that he’d already guessed as much. ‘She’s had the baby. The girl . . . It’s a boy.’ Leo looks shocked. He rubs his hand over his mouth. ‘I couldn’t go home,’ I say, shaking my head quickly. I so want him to understand, to support me. But I’m not sure what’s going through his head. ‘I hope you don’t mind me being here. I’ll go back to the hotel if it bothers you.’
He looks up sharply. ‘Why should it bother me?’
‘I don’t know. I . . .’ I want to say that he doesn’t seem very pleased to see me, but that isn’t fair. Plus it sounds desperate, and I don’t want to come across like that to him. ‘Do you mind me staying in your mother’s room?’ I ask tentatively.
‘No.’ His reply is short. ‘It hasn’t been used for years. It’s a big house. You can stay as long as you like,’ he tells me, repeating Jorge’s words from yesterday.
‘Thank you,’ I say quietly. I finish my coffee and rub at my nose to try to stop it from prickling before looking at the coffee table. I can’t bear it. I get up and walk determinedly through to the kitchen, bringing a sponge and some washing-up liquid back through with me. I couldn’t see any proper cleaning products in the cupboard under the sink, so I add them to my mental shopping list.
‘What are you doing?’ Leo asks with a frown when I return.
‘Cleaning the coffee table,’ I reply as I set to work.
‘Laura, you don’t have to clean for us,’ he mutters.
‘I want to,’ I say firmly as I rub vigorously at a particularly tough stain and try to ignore the way him saying my name makes my pulse quicken. ‘I need something to occupy myself.’
He tuts and sighs, but he realises he can’t stop me. I go through to the kitchen and rinse out the sponge, grabbing a tea towel to polish the glass.
‘There.’ I look at my handiwork. ‘Much better.’
He places his coffee cup down on the table.
‘No, no,’ I chastise. ‘Where are your coasters?’
‘We haven’t got any goddamn coasters, woman!’ he snaps, but I think it’s good-naturedly.
Grinning, I lift up his cup and wipe the coffee ring, then I take the empties back through to the kitchen and wash them up. He comes in after me, snatches the tea towel and dries them. I watch with amusement as he puts them away.
‘Happy now?’ he asks with a raised eyebrow.
‘Happi-er,’ I correct. ‘Do you have a bath towel I could borrow? I promise I’ll buy myself one today.’
‘We have plenty,’ he says, waving me away, then he sets off up the stairs. I follow him. There’s a cupboard under the second smaller staircase and he opens it and gets out a towel, passing it to me.
‘Thanks.’ I turn and walk towards the bathroom. Glancing back, I find him still standing in the same place. ‘Where’s your bedroom?’ I ask in what I hope is a casual voice.
‘Upstairs,’ he says. I hesitantly halt in my footsteps and face him down the corridor. ‘If you plan to do anymore cleaning, I would start on . . . your room.’ He puts emphasis on your, as though he corrected himself at the last moment.
‘Okay,’ I say, pausing at the door to the bathroom. ‘See you in a bit.’
He nods and turns away, his footsteps pounding the stairs matching the pounding of my heart.
I probably need a cold shower, but the water is blissfully hot. I borrow some shampoo and conditioner and then get dressed into yesterday’s clothes. Cleaning Leo’s mother’s room can wait. At the very least I need to call the airport and buy some new underwear. I head back into my room and pick up my phone from the dresser. I’m nervous as I switch it back on. It’s now getting on for eleven o’clock in the morning, which means . . . Oh no, it means I should have arrived in London hours ago.
Buzz, buzz, buzz . . . The sound of all my messages coming in is deeply distracting. I so want to call the airport first, but I know I won’t be able to concentrate until I’ve dealt with things at home. Just as well I made that decision naturally, because suddenly my phone starts to ring and one look at the caller ID tells me it’s Matthew.
‘Hi,’ I say upon answering.
‘Laura? What the hell are you doing?’ Matthew screeches down the line with what sounds like barely contained fury. ‘I’ve been trying to
get hold of you for hours!’ he adds. He really does sound quite pissed off, I muse mildly.
‘I’ve only just switched my phone back on,’ I tell him.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he repeats his earlier question – clearly this is the thing that’s playing most on his mind.
‘Did Marty not tell you?’
‘Bridget told me more. Who the fuck is Leo?’ As he spits out the words in this last sentence, I can tell he’s absolutely beside himself. He’s probably tearing his own hair out.
‘What has Bridget been saying?’ I ask carefully.
‘Why don’t you tell me your version of events?’
‘Well, as you know I’m not coming home.’ I don’t know how I say this so calmly, but I do.
‘Not now? Not ever?’ His voice is immeasurably strained.
‘Not . . . now,’ I confirm. ‘I’m staying with some friends.’
‘Who is Leo?’
‘Leo is just a friend,’ I tell him. ‘So is Jorge. They’re helping me out.’
‘Laura, come home!’ he begs. ‘I should be the one helping you!’
‘Oh, you’re not helping me, Matthew,’ I say quietly. ‘You’re not helping me at all.’
‘Laura, please . . . It was a mistake—’
‘I don’t want to hear you say it again.’ My volume turns up a notch. ‘Shut up. Shut the hell up. Do you hear me?’
He hesitates; taken aback, I think. ‘Yes.’
‘I cannot deal with what is happening at home right now. Do you understand, Matthew?’ I don’t wait for him to reply. ‘Do you get it? What you have done is unforgivable—’
‘Don’t say that,’ he interjects.
‘I do not know how we can ever get past this,’ I say strongly.
‘So, what, you’re just going to jump in the sack with some other bloke, instead? Or have you already done that?’ He sounds so bitter. I actually laugh.
‘I’m not you, Matthew. But what I do from here on in is really none of your business.’