by Dawn Tamayo
“Romero, pull the boat up just beyond the Marina.” Detective Spencer ordered.
“We’ll lose sight of this yacht if I do that.” Romero said not wanting to let the Englishman out of his sight.
The Detective knew he was right but they needed to change the plan - they had previously thought the drugs would be taken away from the marina in Puerto Banus not Estepona, so not everyone was in place to continue the surveillance of the drugs. When Captain Manesco heard the yacht was returning to Estepona he had given orders to Carlos to meet up with them in a car just outside the Estepona marina to back up the vehicle he had managed to get in place which was now following the catering van containing the drugs inland, to find their destination. But he agreed with Romero, he didn’t want to let the Englishman disappear either.
Romero signalled to Miguel to take over the wheel again and pulled off his bullet proof vest.
“What are you doing?” The detective asked.
“You go after the drugs, and I’ll see what I can find out about the boat and the Englishman.” He turned to Miguel and told him to get their boat as close to the Marina as he could without being detected. Then Detective Spencer watched as Romero kicked off his shoes and dived off the front of the small boat, in the water and swum off towards the Marina. He thought Romero was crazy! Good, but crazy.
Romero heard the little boat whizz past him as he swum towards the edge of the Marina. The area was quiet now and he didn’t know how long he had before the Englishman either left the Marina or worse, took the boat away. If he could only get a closer look at the boat he might be able to find a name, then he would be able to find out who this man was. ‘Frank the Englishman’ meant nothing to them, and it wasn’t as if they could just show his photograph around to see if anyone knew him; their operation would be blown in less than five seconds with that one! He was tired but adrenaline kept him going as he swam quietly around the sides of each boat. Finally he came up alongside the Englishman’s boat and he paused treading water quietly as he listened to the voice on board. There was only one voice; a man’s deep English voice with a rough accent just like Helen had described, and he thought it must be Frank’s. Romero listened for a moment longer, then he decided that since no one else was talking back to him then Frank was probably on the telephone. He swam slowly around to the front of the boat and quietly pulled himself up the anchor chain until he could reach the black covering over the boat name. Gently, being careful not to make any noise, he pulled away the black covering to reveal the yacht’s name. Romero managed to look at the name quickly then replaced the covering and slid back into the water as he heard Frank’s voice getting closer. He swam away quickly, heading for the promenade further up from the Marina, so as not to be detected.
As Romero walked up the sand, soaking wet, he repeated the name of the yacht over and over again in his head so as not to make any mistakes or forget. He walked tiredly up the side roads away from the seafront and was met by Maria in a car. Romero grabbed the blankets she handed him and slumped in the front seat, truly glad Detective Spencer had sent her back for him, he didn’t want to walk another step, not until he’d had a good night sleep. He was thoroughly exhausted.
Maria handed Romero the mobile telephone. He put it to his ear.
“So, what did you find out?” The detective’s voice came through the telephone, getting straight to the point.
“Nothing more about the Englishman, he was alone and talking on the telephone and I couldn’t hear what he was saying. But I managed to get the name of the yacht.”
“Good. What is it?”
“The Princess.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Romero had slept soundly on the sofa-bed in the living room of the small apartment which doubled up as his and Maria’s holiday apartment. They had all been too tired for a de-briefing after the stake-out in the early hours of the morning so Captain Manesco rescheduled it for twelve noon instead. Romero looked at the little clock next to his bed and saw he had an hour before their debriefing. He kicked the covers off, moaning at his aching body as he reached for his mobile telephone - he needed some information about this morning and he wanted it fast. As he had lain half asleep and half-awake his thoughts had crept back to the Englishman. Romero remembered the day Helen had told him about Frank approaching her in Benidorm, then as if by sheer co-incidence the very next day she was reported missing. He remembered Helen saying that Frank had said he thought he recognised her but then said that he must have been mistaken. What if he wasn’t mistaken? What if he had recognised her, and what if he actually did know Helen? Was it just a co-incidence that her faithful Fiancé reported her missing the very next day? Romero had thought it before, and he thought it again – he didn’t believe in co-incidences. He remembered how Helen had looked at Frank’s picture at his house - he knew her well enough by now to know when she was telling the truth, either that or she was the world’s best actress! No, she didn’t know who Frank was, so how did he know her? Or was it that, for some reason, she couldn’t remember Frank? He looked across to Maria’s bedroom door and saw she was still asleep. He swiftly got up and pushed the number on his telephone for the police station in Benidorm, he needed to call in a favour and get some information right now.
***
Helen woke with a stomping headache. Immediately she regretted the champagne and half bottle of Jack Daniels she downed last night, and she vaguely remembered falling asleep sometime in the early hours of the morning. She looked across the bed relived to see that Oliver was already up, which wasn’t surprising considering she remembered drinking most of the alcohol herself last night. Swinging her legs out of the bed she held her head as it pounded hard and the room spun. Never before had she regretted her actions; she didn’t believe in regrets, but right now she regretted last night! Not just for the headache but for the huge mistake she made. The memories of Romero came flooding back and so did the pain. Helen looked at the empty drinks bottles and knew they were not the answer. No matter how rejected and hurt she felt she should never have led Oliver on, she should never have slept with him - but right then she needed to feel wanted, and to feel loved. ‘Even so, that was no excuse’ she told herself.
She flinched as she thought about her bedroom encounter with Oliver; even though the sex had been pleasant, the earth hadn’t moved and it had barely stirred an emotion inside of her. If she hadn’t known before, she knew for certain now that Oliver didn’t mean the same to her as he must have done at one time. She couldn’t make love to someone she didn’t love, well not if she was sober! She closed her eyes against the memory of his touch and kisses. She didn’t blame Oliver, she had led him on and made him believe that was what she wanted, and in a sad way that was what she wanted at that time. She wanted to wash away the feeling of rejection and desolation. She didn’t wanted to feel the pain that Romero had planted deep down inside her heart, and for a few hours she had tried to convince herself that it was possible. But now she knew better. Helen sat on the edge of the bed, head in hands cursing herself for her stupidity.
“Helen?” Oliver called from the bathroom.
She jumped feeling like she had been poked out of her state of self-pity. She sat upright and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Straightening herself she got up and picked out her clothes walking to the main bathroom up the hallway to take her shower. This morning she wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone, she had too much on her mind and pointless conversation was not on her agenda. She had a lot of thinking to do.
Freshly showered Helen was still in no mood to face anyone. She had only gone back into their bedroom after she heard Oliver go downstairs, but he seemed to be back all too soon. He put his head around their bedroom door and watched as she put the finishing touches to her make-up - she looked pretty in a cream and beige shift-dress cutting off just above her knees, and her hair was shining as the sun shone through the bedroom window to where she sat applying a thin layer of lip gloss.
“A
re you ready to go?” Oliver asked, smiling like a cat who had got the cream.
“Nearly, but I’ll just be a little while longer.” She said trying to avoid their usual breakfast together.
“I’ll wait downstairs for you.”
“No don’t.” She looked at Oliver through the mirror as she paused, lip-gloss in hand. “You go ahead and I’ll catch you up in the office soon.
“No, I’ll wait, I want to talk to you about something before we leave.” Oliver said sitting down on the bed.
Helen turned around wondering what he wanted.
“I am glad everything is back to normal, so I think we should go ahead with the wedding now.”
“The what!” Helen nearly choked!
“The wedding. Of course I put it on hold while you were not yourself, but after last night there is no reason for us to wait any longer. We had originally planned for December, so I think we should carry on with that date.”
“But that’s next month Oliver! It’s too soon.”
“Don’t worry, we can still get it sorted in time. We’ll get the wedding planner back in, she can sort it all out.”
“No, I think it’s still a bit too soon Oliver. It’s too soon for me.” She said swallowing down the lump in her throat. Sleeping with a man she didn’t love and living with him trying to fool herself that it was mutually beneficial for them both was one thing. But to marry him? No she couldn’t do that!
“I am not going to discuss this Helen. I am always right and last night proved that once again. You’ll see, everything will be alright now. The wedding is set for next month. I want you to phone the wedding planner today and get a meeting set up for later today or tomorrow.” Oliver said as he stood up signalling this was obviously the end of the discussion.
Helen stared back at him in astonishment, she couldn’t believe he was actually telling her when they were going to get married, despite her telling him she wasn’t ready yet!
“Is something the matter Helen?” He was glad she was finally coming around, even if she was acting a little crazier than he had ever seen her before. He had never seen her drink like last night, but he didn’t care, they had finally become intimate again and he was in a good mood, a very good mood. Oliver wondered if maybe he had managed to scare some sense into her yesterday. If so he thought he should have done that a long time ago! Maybe now he wouldn’t have to be so cautious anymore - things were beginning to get pretty tricky, and he knew things couldn’t go on that way forever.
Helen looked at Oliver standing behind her, she could tell the subject of postponing or cancelling the wedding was not going to be on the cards and her head was not allowing for a big show-down right now, so she shook her head and immediately regretted it.
“Good. I’ll wait for your downstairs.”
“No, I will be in the office later Oliver, but my head is hurting and I need a bit more time before I leave.” She said honestly.
He paused, then to Helen’s relief he nodded in agreement. He leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek before walking off.
Helen closed her eyes and wished he would just leave her alone for a few moments. But then again she couldn’t feel angry at him, it served her right and this was her punishment for last night: a devoted fiancé!
Helen heard Oliver’s car drive away and she waited for a few moments before she moved from the dressing table to the big cupboard in the hallway. Opening it she pulled out two large suitcases and carried them back into her bedroom, laying them on the bed. She opened the wardrobe doors and started to pull out her clothes laying them neatly in the suitcases. She felt guilty as she laid each piece of clothing on top of each other, but she didn’t care anymore. She’d had it with feeling guilty - feeling bad for not being the person she was before and not feeling the way she should be feeling. She knew that running out on Oliver now was low, after a night of sex and lies. But he wouldn’t listen to her, and enough was enough - it was time to leave and to start living again.
Helen knew she was crazy for thinking she could pack her suitcases, throw them into the car and drive away to Romero - she knew it wasn’t possible, not anymore, and the realisation cut through her like a knife. Despite Helen leaving Oliver for no one else but herself, it still hurt to know she would never see Romero again. Whatever Romero was doing, or whoever he was with, Helen knew that anything she had with him was over the second she slipped her engagement ring back on her finger as she stood in his kitchen. Her head wished it could tell her heart what to do, but her stupid heart wouldn’t listen. She knew Romero had moved on, oh she knew that only too well! She wished she could get the sight of him with that woman out of her head, but she couldn’t, and no amount of alcohol last night had changed that. So that was something she was going to have to deal with, and she had a feeling it was going to take a very long time to get over that one. But for now, she needed to get herself out of this mess!
For a moment panic consumed Helen, she knew that once she left Oliver she would be leaving the protection of his security team too. She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself – hopefully nothing much would happen in a couple of days since no one except Oliver would even miss her if recent events were anything to go by. Then by the time whoever had tried to kidnap her realised she wasn’t there, they would either have lost interest in her since she was no longer a part of Oliver’s life, and she would be long gone back to England.
Helen wandered over to the bedroom window thinking how she would miss the beautiful sea views and the wonderful white sand, but it was the safest option for her. Maybe in time she would be able to return to Spain again, but for now Spain was no longer her home. She knew she could move to a city further inland, maybe Madrid, and get lost amongst the people there, but she couldn’t imagine being in Spain without Romero - there were just too many things to remind her of him there. No, she had to leave Romero and Spain behind her and return to England.
Going back to her packing Helen picked up her new make-up and moisturisers, and put them neatly into her suitcase, wishing for the umpteenth time that she could find her old make-up bag from her mother. When she finally zipped up her suitcases she pulled them off the bed and wheeled them down the hall behind her. Helen quickly checked downstairs, she didn’t want Mrs Becks to see her and be jumping on the telephone to Oliver before she had a chance to tell him she was leaving herself. She had a feeling Mrs Becks had been keeping far too close an eye on her whenever Oliver hadn’t been around.
Feeling happy with herself for finally finding something to be excited about Helen ventured into the garage. It felt strange to be standing in the big familiar place again, she hadn’t been in there since she returned to Oliver’s house – it hadn’t occurred to her, but now she realised Oliver had done most of the driving since she returned home. She reached for the Audi logo keyring hanging on the hook just inside the garage door when she stopped, seeing the small pink fluffy key-ring next to it. She had planned to borrow one of Oliver’s cars and leave it at his office when she told him she was leaving, but now she stopped, taking hold of the little pink key-ring with two keys on it. Twisting the keys between her fingers she wondered why it was still there - she had wondered where her cute and funky little cream Fiat 500 car had gone, it had been her pride and joy, but when she asked Oliver where it was he said that she sold it when she moved in with him. It surprised her because she remembered feeling so fond of that car, and she couldn’t remember selling it. She assumed she must have sold it during one of the many big chunks of time that was still missing from her memory; she still couldn’t remember everything and she had resigned herself to never getting her memory back in full. But standing there in the garage with her car keys in hand she looked around and spotted a black covered lump in the far back corner. Helen pushed the unlock button on the key fob and jumped slightly when the familiar sound of two beeps rang out. She walked over and pulled the black plastic covering off the big lump revealing her cream car underneath. Helen stood back and looked
at it in disbelief! She hadn’t sold it after all - it had been sitting there in the garage all along! She wondered why Oliver had lied to her – what possible good reason could he have for that? She thought he was being chivalrous by always insisting he would drive as she waited outside the front of the house for him to bring the car around to her. But now she realised that wasn’t the case - he had been trying to control her every move, she could see that now! She stood there looking at her car trying to make some sense of it all - whether Oliver had been trying to control her out of kindness or selfishness she had no idea, and she really didn’t care why. But this definitely confirmed to her that she was doing the right thing. Her guilt was beginning to ebb away as she began to feel that Oliver wasn’t as nice as she had thought. He may well have been in love with her, but he was all about himself - telling her where she could live, when they were going to get married, and taking away the only piece of true independence she had, her funky little car. She didn’t think he was going to let her just walk out of his life without a fight, and she couldn’t understand why a man like him would want to be with someone who didn’t want to be with him, he must have a long line of woman waiting to jump into bed with him, and certainly more willing and subservient ones than she was.
Helen lifted her suitcases into the back of her little car feeling happy to see it again, and opened the garage door. Getting inside she turned the key enjoying the sound of the little engine roaring up, and drove out of the garage leaving the big house behind her.
***