The Longest Holiday

by Paige Toon

  ‘Can’t . . . Won’t . . . What’s the difference?’

  ‘You don’t love him, do you?’ she asks wryly.

  ‘No,’ I reply quickly, although inside I’m not so sure. My emotions are not that clear-cut and I’m not quite sure how to separate love from lust. I guess I don’t know him well enough to love him.

  ‘Then what on earth are you doing?’ she demands to know.

  I sigh heavily and try to explain. ‘I just know that I don’t want to go home yet. I don’t want to say goodbye to Leo yet. I can’t let him go.’

  ‘Maybe it will be a good thing if he lets you go, then,’ she says.

  ‘Would you stop saying that?’ I raise my voice.

  ‘Dammit, Laura.’ Uh-oh, no-nonsense Marty is here. ‘Your holiday visa is going to run out in, what? A month and a half? You’re going to have to go home then, so what on earth are you doing screwing up all your chances of making things work with Matthew? I know he messed up big time, but he’s sorry. He made a mistake. He still loves you and I know that you love him, so stop screwing him over!’

  ‘So now you’re on his side?’ I cry.

  ‘I’m not on his side,’ she cries back. ‘I’m on your side. Both of your sides – the two of you as a couple!’

  ‘But, Marty—’

  She interrupts. ‘You know, we did sit there, all your friends and family, in that church under the eyes of God, while the vicar asked us to support the two of you and help you through difficult times.’

  ‘Under the eyes of God?’ I say with disbelief. ‘Since when have you been particularly religious?’

  ‘Watching you get married was the most religious I have ever felt, if you want to know.’ Her voice goes up a notch to drive home her point. ‘There was something about that service . . . something so serious. You had been through so much.’ Now she sounds choked.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ I say sadly.

  ‘It’s true!’ She is crying now. ‘Seeing you standing up at that altar with him, seeing the look in his eyes as he promised to love and honour you, in sickness and in health and all that other stuff . . . It brought tears to my eyes. It still does. Matthew loves you, Laura. You’re not going to find another man like him. I know you fancy Leo – God knows, I fancied Leo and Bridget sure as hell did – but where’s your future with him? You can’t base a relationship purely on sex, you know. However good it is!’

  ‘It’s not just the sex,’ I say firmly.

  She laughs at me, a hostile laugh.

  ‘It’s not!’ I exclaim, trying not to let my temper take over. ‘There’s more to him than that.’

  ‘Come on, this is short-term and you know it! We’re not eighteen anymore! This is not Ibiza!’

  ‘No shit, Sherlock. I’m twenty-nine, not some idiotic teenager.’ This snub is meant to irritate her. ‘I’m just saying that maybe this is not temporary. Maybe I do have a future with him, here in the keys.’

  ‘You’re not a bloody banyan tree!’ she practically shouts. ‘You can’t put your roots down wherever you like.’

  ‘Shut up, Marty,’ I snap. ‘Now you’re really pissing me off.’ I told her about the banyan trees and now she’s using the damn things against me.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Has he put you up to this?’ I ask with sudden clarity. ‘Matthew?’

  ‘No.’ But she sounds guilty.

  ‘He has, hasn’t he? When did you speak to him?’

  She doesn’t answer for a moment.

  ‘Marty?’

  ‘We’ve talked a couple of times,’ she admits sulkily. ‘A few times.’

  ‘A couple of times? A few times? Make up your mind. Has he called you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I know there’s more to that reply.

  ‘And you’ve seen each other, too, right?’

  ‘Mmm.’

  I sigh heavily. She’s supposed to be my friend.

  ‘Don’t be mad.’ Now she’s conciliatory. ‘I’ve met him for lunch a couple of times. He really is so sorry. He misses you so much. I miss you,’ she adds. ‘We all just want you to come home.’

  ‘Did you tell him to come and get me?’

  ‘That was his idea.’

  ‘But you thought it was a pretty good one.’

  ‘Of course. Look, Laura, if he’s willing to forgive you for this . . . thing you have with Leo, then surely you can forgive him?’

  ‘It is not the same,’ I say angrily.

  ‘No, no, no, I know it’s not,’ she says hurriedly. ‘Of course it’s not. I just mean, maybe you can move on from this?’

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  ‘Just think about it, okay?’ she says gently. ‘I’ll speak to you later. Call me anytime,’ she adds.

  We ring off, but it’s a while before I can mobilise myself enough to go and see Matthew.

  The house smells of fresh paint, I notice, as I step outside. I look back up to see that the others made huge progress yesterday. This side of the house is completely painted and it looks beautiful. I didn’t realise that last night when I came home as it was so dark. I feel a swell of pride as I walk across the garden. This beautiful home will be restored to its former glory. I’ll make sure of that before I leave, if nothing else.

  Matthew is showered and dressed and waiting for me on a hammock when I appear. He looks happy to see me, but I’m still feeling affected by the phone conversation with Marty.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asks with concern, trying to climb down from the hammock, which is not as easy as you might think.

  ‘I’m alright,’ I tell him. ‘What do you want to do today?’

  ‘Whatever you like. Although, I was wondering about going on a boat ride later. A sunset cruise, maybe.’

  I snigger. ‘Those things are so touristy.’

  ‘Oh, and you’re not a tourist anymore, hey?’

  He says this teasingly and for a few seconds I’m full of adoration for him. He could have sounded bitter and nasty. Matthew has rarely sounded bitter or nasty. I’ve never been scared of him or scared around him.

  ‘Hey,’ he says gently, seeing my expression. I feel like I’m about to crumble. He guides me into his room and closes the door.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Just . . . everything,’ I say, sitting down on his bed.

  ‘Can I . . .’ He holds his arms out to me, asking for permission to hold me. I edge closer to him and he wraps his arms around me and holds me tenderly. He feels so different to Leo. Slighter, not as broad, not quite as tall. I pull away and scan the room for a tissue. He goes to retrieve one for me from the bathroom.

  ‘I spoke to Marty,’ I tell him, taking the tissue gratefully.

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘She’s thinks I’m mad, staying out here.’

  He smiles sadly.

  ‘I bet everyone does.’ I shake my head. ‘I can only imagine the conversations my mum and dad have been having.’

  ‘They’re worried about you,’ he reveals.

  ‘Have you talked to them?’

  ‘A few times,’ he admits with a nod.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ I mutter, but I’m not really cross. ‘Did they encourage you to come here, too?’

  He has the grace to look awkward. ‘Yeah.’

  I tut. ‘I’m surprised my mum hasn’t rocked up. She likes a bit of drama.’

  ‘If you don’t come back with me, she probably will.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, you have to stop her.’

  He smiles at me sadly. ‘Please come home with me.’

  I shake my head. ‘I can’t.’

  He stares out of the window with frustration.

  ‘What’s he like?’ I find myself asking.

  ‘Who?’ he replies.

  ‘The baby. Evan.’ His name almost sticks in my throat.

  ‘Oh, he’s . . .’ He hesitates. ‘He’s just a little lump at the moment. Doesn’t really do much.’ But the light in his eyes does not go unnoticed.

  I clear my throat. ‘Do you have any phot
os?’

  He casts me a wary glance.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I reassure him. ‘I want to see him.’

  Tentatively he pulls out his mobile phone and searches through his photos, then hands it over. A tiny little baby stares up at the camera, at me. He has very blue eyes and fluffy dark hair. He’s very, very cute. Even I have to admit that. I flick right and another photo appears. This time he’s in someone’s arms – his mother’s? I wonder with a prickle of envy. But the picture is a close-up of him asleep, and as I flick through the next few, seeing Evan in the early days after his birth, when he was very tiny and very pink in an incubator, my heart goes out to him. There are no pictures of Tessa. I’m relieved to see that, and also a bit irritated. I’m glad Matthew chose not to take photos of her, but I’m curious to see again what she looks like. I saw her only the once – and that was in her tiny profile pic on Facebook. She changed the picture to a scan of her baby just days later. I checked.

  I glance at Matthew’s face and see that light in his eyes again. He’s leaning close to me, looking over my shoulder at the photos.

  ‘You love him, don’t you?’ It’s more of a comment than a question, but he smiles sadly and nods.

  This revelation doesn’t hurt me.

  ‘He’s cute,’ I find myself saying.

  ‘I really want you to see him,’ he blurts out.

  I switch his phone off and shake my head. ‘I’m not ready for that.’

  He visibly slumps and takes his phone from me.

  ‘You leave on Tuesday, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ I try to sound bright, ‘how do you want to spend your last couple of days?’

  We go shopping and wander the streets, checking out the Southern most Point and arranging to go on a sunset cruise. Many of the people on the boat are middle-aged men and women, but even more are middle-aged obviously gay men. We raise a glass to each other and giggle.

  When Matthew walks me home, I’m taken aback to see Leo’s car parked outside the gates. I halt in my footsteps and turn swiftly to him.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I say quickly.

  ‘Okay. Goodnight.’ He gives me a wary look.

  I peck him on his cheek and hurry through the gate, not looking over my shoulder. The seats are empty. I run inside the house, my pulse racing. I can hear laughter and the murmur of voices coming from the dining room. I burst into the room and everyone starts, seeing me there. Leo is sitting at the table, surrounded by his friends. My friends? Not quite. He stares at me and I’m unable to read his expression.

  ‘You’re back,’ I say breathlessly.

  ‘It would seem so,’ he replies darkly, no trace of a smile on his lips.

  Everyone at the table averts their gaze. This is awkward, even for someone as brazen as Carmen.

  ‘Talk to you in a bit.’ I back out of the room, feeling sick.

  I wait for him upstairs for what feels like a long time, but eventually he knocks at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ I say eagerly.

  He pushes the door open and stands in the doorway, giving me a hard stare.

  ‘Come in,’ I say again, more hesitantly, sitting up on the bed.

  He reluctantly steps further into the room and closes the door behind him.

  ‘Are you okay? How was Miami?’

  He irritably runs his hands through his hair. I flinch at the look on his face.

  ‘Leo?’ I say tentatively. ‘I missed you,’ I add in a small voice, holding my hand out to him, willing him to come and sit on the bed with me.

  ‘I think it’s best if we stay away from each other while your husband is here.’

  He practically spits these words out and it hurts so much to hear him say them with such venom.

  ‘Leo!’ I gasp, but he glares at me. ‘He’s leaving on Tuesday,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m not going with—’

  ‘Just stop,’ he warns, and there’s a look of disdain on his face as he turns around and walks out.

  I’m too stunned to cry.

  The next morning Leo is up and out of the house before I have a chance to talk to him. I spent most of the night awake, wondering what the others have told him. What can they say, other than the fact that I’ve hardly been here at all? They could tell him I’ve slept here every night, though. Did they tell him that? I have a sick feeling that maybe they didn’t think this was entirely necessary.

  I’m on another planet all day. I can barely concentrate, too consumed with seeing Leo again that night and trying to put it right. Matthew drives us to the beach, where we lie on the sand and I pretend to be asleep so I don’t have to speak. It’s his last night and he asks me to go out to dinner with him. I’m reluctant. I just want to be with Leo, but eventually I agree. I go to the house to get ready first – and to wait for Leo.

  Jorge comes home from work and gives me a wary look. I’m sitting on the living-room sofa, staring at the wall. I don’t even have the patience to turn on the telly.

  ‘Where’s Leo?’ I ask him hopefully.

  ‘He’s gone out,’ he replies edgily, making to leave the room.

  ‘Jorge, please!’ I call after him. ‘What have you said to him?’

  ‘I haven’t said anything,’ he responds.

  ‘Then what has Carmen said? He acted last night like he hated me!’

  He regards me with sympathy. ‘Don’t worry about Leo. Carmen hasn’t told him anything much, only that we haven’t seen you a lot. Which we haven’t.’

  ‘I know,’ I say helplessly. ‘But not because of anything sinister.’

  ‘No, nothing as sinister as the fact that your husband is staying a few hundred metres away,’ he says in a gently sarcastic tone. ‘Look, Carmen is only worried about Leo.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘She wants the best for him. She’s not sure you’re it.’

  I cast my eyes downwards. ‘I know.’

  ‘What do you think?’ he asks me softly and my eyes fly up to look at him.

  ‘I . . . I really care about him,’ I say with difficulty.

  He regards me for a moment. ‘Tell him that.’

  I nod. ‘I will. When will he be home?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’ll try to find him.’

  ‘Okay. I’m going out for dinner with . . .’ I cock my head to one side. ‘It’s his last night. I need to say goodbye.’

  ‘See you later, then.’ He turns and walks out.

  ‘Jorge!’ He spins around. ‘Thanks.’

  He smiles and leaves and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  ‘You know it’s your charity ball this weekend?’ Matthew says over dessert.

  ‘Of course,’ I reply. ‘Becky has it all under control.’

  ‘I’m sure she does, but . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t you think you should be there?’ His tone is stern.

  ‘Maybe.’ I shrug defensively. ‘But I’m not going to be, am I?’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be the one giving the speech? Do you really think she can handle it?’

  ‘She’ll be fine.’ I try to brush him off, but I’m not as confident as I sound. She’s competent, but she hasn’t done many speeches before, and this ball is the biggie – of all the events in our calendar, this is the one that raises the most money year-on-year in Will’s name.

  ‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ he continues.

  ‘I’m not coming home.’

  ‘We could go together,’ he tries again.

  ‘I’m not coming home.’ My response is firm.

  ‘Yet,’ he adds with a frown.

  ‘Yet,’ I agree reluctantly. ‘Look, I’m really tired. Do you mind if we call it a night?’

  He looks disappointed.‘I thought you’d come back to mine for a bit?’ He checks his watch, the watch I bought him as a wedding present. He’s also still wearing his wedding ring. ‘It’s only nine thirty.’

  I think for a moment. Well, I doubt
Leo will be home this early, anyway. I guess I could always swing by there to check.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Matthew asks. ‘You’ve been somewhere else all day.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I reply guiltily.

  ‘Is he back?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Leo,’ he says with impatience.

  ‘Oh, yes, he returned last night.’

  He won’t meet my eyes. He looks hurt and I despise myself for being the cause of that.

  ‘Can we have the bill?’ he asks the waitress.

  We walk back to his hotel in silence.

  ‘Come in for a drink?’ he asks quietly.

  ‘Look, I’ll see you in the morning,’ I say, trying to reassure him, but I can see that I’m failing. I take a deep breath and change my mind. ‘Okay, then.’

  He smiles slightly as I follow him through the reception area, waving at Mike as we go.

  ‘Let’s sit out here,’ he suggests, indicating the deserted hammock area.

  ‘Okay.’

  He goes inside to prepare our drinks, returning to the hammocks with two glasses of chilled white wine.

  ‘When did you get this?’ I ask.

  ‘Picked it up from the offie earlier, just in case I could tempt you back,’ he says with a cheeky grin.

  ‘Yeah, well, don’t go getting any ideas,’ I warn.

  ‘As if I would,’ he replies.

  I clamber up onto a hammock and wobble every which way until I’m settled enough for him to pass me my glass.

  Matthew climbs into his hammock more deftly and gives me a boyish smile as he raises his glass.

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Here’s to us,’ he says.

  I take a sip, but don’t second that sentiment.

  ‘When are you seeing Evan next?’ I ask.

  ‘Er, this weekend,’ he tells me, nervously.

  I feel a pang of pity. ‘You don’t have to worry about telling me these things,’ I say. ‘It’s okay. He’s your son. You’re going to see him.’

  I think the alcohol is making me more reasonable. It usually has the opposite effect.

  ‘Thanks,’ he says quietly.

  ‘So what are you doing?’ I ask casually.

  ‘I’m just going over to Tessa’s house. She lives with her dad,’ he adds.

  ‘Oh, right.’ I sound surprised. ‘Isn’t she, like, twenty-four or something?’