Nathan pulled a face, protesting in the manner of a petulant child. ‘Ugh, do we have to?’
‘Yes, we do. All we’ve got with us are the clothes on our backs.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘And make sure you pick things you wouldn’t normally wear.’
Nathan let out a long sigh. ‘I’ll meet you back here in fifteen minutes,’ he said, checking the time on his watch before he stomped off with his shoulders hunched towards the back of the shop.
I didn’t have time to worry about my manners, I only had a quarter of an hour to get everything I needed. So I barged my way through the packed aisles, grabbing as much as I could before heading for the tills. While I waited to be served, I could see Nathan standing by the entrance, and he didn’t look happy.
‘How did you get on?’ I asked, smiling at the tiny shopping bag Nathan was holding. ‘Is that all you got?’
‘We won’t need a lot of clothes in Majorca.’
After our fleeting trip to Zara, we made our way along the pavement towards El Corte Inglès, Barcelona’s equivalent to Selfridges. I pulled a reluctant Nathan by the hand, past the giant Christmas tree in front of the main entrance.
‘They’re bound to sell suitcases in here.’
After purchasing two identical black trolley cases, I laid them on their sides in a quiet corner of the department store and placed our rucksacks and shopping in them. We left the shop and began making our way through the throng of people again, trying to kill time while we waited for the ferry.
Nathan stopped outside a phone shop and stared at me for a moment. ‘I’m just going to pop in here and buy us both pay-as-you-go mobiles. Then we’ll be able to make untraceable calls.’
*
Nathan looked like a broken man as he stood staring into space on the pavement while crowds of Christmas shoppers dashed past him. I squeezed his hand, and the touch of my fingers brought him back to reality, but when he looked at me, he couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I was just thinking about my mum. I hate being on bad terms with her. Having a close family means everything to me. Without them I’d have nothing.’
Now it was my turn to be sad. Nathan had hit a nerve, but I didn’t want him to know that he’d upset me. It wasn’t intentional. He was lucky to have a good network around him. His family were lovely. Most of the time, it didn’t bother me that I wasn’t close to mine. But right now, I found myself longing for something I’d never had.
Knowing you’re not your parents’ favourite is difficult to accept at any age. Everything I did was judged, and every time my parents judged me, they made me feel like a failure. What gave them the right to do that?
Growing up competing against the golden child, in a game of sibling rivalry, was a huge challenge. At times, it was impossible not to feel inadequate. It gnawed at my very core. If I ever became a mother, I’d never treat my children unequally and pit them against each other.
Nathan taught me a long time ago not to invest my energy in situations that I couldn’t change, and for that, I’d be forever grateful. That piece of advice altered my whole outlook.
‘Why don’t we go and get something to eat?’ The sound of Nathan’s voice broke my train of thought. ‘Food always cheers me up.’ He smiled, then linked my arm and steered me back towards Plaça de Catalunya.
We were carried along the busy streets by the masses before we turned into a narrow cobblestoned alleyway so that we could get away from the crowd. Almost immediately, we stopped outside a restaurant with a quaint exterior, bathed in the glow of coloured lights. The authentic Spanish tapas bar, offering a vast choice of local dishes, was tucked away, hidden from the hustle and bustle, in the maze of the Gothic quarter of the city.
‘What about this place?’ I peered in the window. We’d picked a good time. It was empty unlike the more touristy places a few doors away in the plaza that were packed to the rafters.
El Portalón had a welcoming, romantically lit interior with soothing background music that created a tranquil atmosphere. Exposed brick vaulted ceilings, dark wood panelling and wooden barrels added rustic charm and gave the restaurant a cosy and traditional feel.
We chose a corner booth, furthest away from the distraction of the street, and took a seat at a table laid with simple white crockery, rose gold cutlery, and handmade wine glasses.
Having looked at the menu, we ordered a selection of tapas and the house red. Within a short space of time, a large wooden platter piled high with food arrived at our table along with a terracotta jug full of wine.
‘We need to decide on a backstory in case people start asking us questions,’ I said, taking advantage of the fact that nobody was around to overhear us. ‘It can’t be anything too elaborate, or we’ll end up forgetting what we’ve said.’
‘We’ve taken a year off to go travelling,’ Nathan replied without any hesitation.
‘That’s a good idea.’ It would be an easy story to stick to.
‘Anyway, we should be treating this time as a holiday. We deserve to relax and have some fun after what we’ve been through,’ Nathan said, before loading up his plate with traditional potato tortilla, melon wrapped in Serrano ham, apple and Manchego crostinis and marinated olives.
‘How long do you think it will be before we can go home?’ I took a sip of the smooth red wine.
Nathan looked up from his plate, wearing his poker face. When he finished chewing his mouthful of food, he put down his knife and fork and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.
‘It’s impossible to say. Let’s take each day as it comes, but we’ll have to be prepared to stay away for as long as it takes, more than a year if necessary.’
My eyes widened at the prospect of having to accept that. ‘I thought we’d only have to lie low for a couple of weeks, a month at the most.’
‘Don’t get stressed about it.’ Nathan leant forward and took my hand in his. ‘We’ve always wanted to go travelling, so let’s enjoy it.’
‘I suppose you’re right, but don’t you think we should make a long-term plan?’ I didn’t want to resign myself to the fact that we’d never be able to go back to England.
‘Why? It will only complicate things. We’ve got enough cash to last ages, so at least we won’t have to worry about money for once.’ Nathan knocked back the wine in his glass before smiling at me. ‘I have a confession to make. I’ve been keeping a secret from you.’
My heartbeat quickened in response to his words. While I waited for Nathan to carry on, I found myself becoming overwhelmed by the claustrophobic silence.
‘I had noticed your not so subtle hints about starting a family. The reason I kept making excuses was I’m scared I won’t make a good dad. I haven’t exactly had a great role model, have I?’
At first, I said nothing; I was too shocked to speak. Then I reached for Nathan’s hand. I wish he’d told me this before. He was worried about nothing. ‘You’ll make a brilliant dad.’
Nathan’s face broke into a huge smile.
*
El Portalón had been empty when we got there, but by eight o’clock it was starting to fill up. As we couldn’t talk in private any more, we decided to make our way back to the centre of Barcelona to soak up the festive atmosphere. Even though the shops were closed, Plaça de Catalunya was still packed with locals and tourists. The temperature had dropped sharply, so we decided to take refuge from the cold in one of the many cafés that overlooked the square and its illuminated trees and fountains.
‘This is the best hot chocolate I’ve tasted in ages. It’s delicious.’ I grinned, dunking a cinnamon-covered churro.
The rich, creamy, bittersweet chocolate was served in a small glass, and was so thick you could stand a spoon in it. It was only just thin enough to drink, but it was the perfect consistency for coating the churros.
Nathan smiled at me. ‘You look like you’re enjoying that. You’ve got it all over your face.’ Leaning towards me, Nathan wiped the chocolate away with the pa
d of his thumb before checking the time on his watch. ‘If you still want to walk, we’d better get going. We’ve got to be at Sant Bertrand terminal by ten-thirty at the latest.’
*
I thought about everything we’d discussed tonight as Nathan and I strolled hand in hand along La Rambla. We walked in silence towards the marina, admiring the twinkling lights that hung in the trees high above us. While I breathed in the crisp evening air, a sense of calm washed over me.
We’d agreed it wasn’t going to be easy to start over in another country, but we both knew going home wasn’t an option at this stage. If it meant keeping Nathan’s family safe, we might have to accept that we would never be able to go back. That was a consequence of double-crossing Alfie and something we’d have to learn to live with. But that was a small price to pay for our freedom.
I was going to handle our finances from now on. Having access to all the cash would be too tempting for Nathan. He had a history of being reckless with money, but he’d given me his word he wouldn’t gamble again. Even though I desperately wanted to believe him, I knew it had a powerful hold over him. There was a big difference between saying you’re going to do something and actually doing it. He wanted to keep his promise; only time would tell if he managed to. I wasn’t going to worry about that now, so I pushed that thought from my mind.
Almost splitting up had taught us a valuable lesson: we’d never take each other for granted again. We were both guilty of making mistakes, but it was time to draw a line under them and move on. Everyone deserved a second chance, didn’t they? No matter how good a relationship was, sometimes they caused us pain. It was unavoidable. All marriages have their share of problems. Life would be dull without them.
90
Gemma
‘Let’s go and check in,’ Nathan said, squeezing my hand as we arrived at Trasmediterránea’s terminal shortly before ten o’clock.
We made our way to the pre-boarding area and handed our tickets and fake British passports to the lady behind the counter. She looked at the photo of Emma Jones then looked me in the eye. I tried to keep my rapidly increasing heartbeat under control. When she studied the picture of Ethan Jones, Nathan flashed her a bright smile.
‘You are booked to travel on the overnight ferry to Majorca,’ the lady said, checking the tickets. ‘The crossing leaves at 23:00, Saturday, December 23. You will arrive in Palma on Sunday, December 24 at 07:00.’
‘That’s correct,’ I replied.
‘Here is your boarding card. Please make your way to gate number three. Boarding will commence shortly.’
‘Thank you.’ I smiled, taking the card from her.
Nathan and I joined the back of the queue at gate number three. Before we could board the ship for the eight-hour crossing, an immigration officer rechecked our boarding passes and passports. Nathan rested his head on top of mine while the Spanish official looked at our documents.
The dark-haired, dark-eyed man handed my passport back to me. My forged papers didn’t raise any suspicion, and I was waved through with no questions asked. But Nathan wasn’t so lucky. The young official peered at his photo, then began examining the passport in great detail.
Almost instantly, beads of sweat broke out on my upper lip. I hoped nobody would realise I was nervous, but it was a cold December evening, so I could hardly pretend I was hot, could I?
Removing a tissue from my bag, I pretended to blow my nose so I could dry the skin above my top lip. It was torture having to watch the scene unfold from the other side of the gate. Why was this happening now? We were only moments away from boarding the ferry and had travelled on these passports numerous times before, without encountering any problems.
‘Wait here for a moment please, sir,’ the official said to Nathan.
The young man went across to speak to one of his colleagues, a bearded, grey-haired more senior-looking officer. He looked like he’d racked up many years of service, and the scowl he was wearing so naturally made me think Nathan was in for a tough time.
As the officers approached the counter, the older one began studying Nathan’s passport. He flicked through the pages, feeling the paper quality between his thumb and forefinger before scrutinising the photo. Nathan held his nerve and waited for the officer to finish.
The senior officer spoke to the other official in Spanish. Then without saying a word to Nathan, the two men took his passport into a private room. Nathan looked at me out of the corner of his eye as he waited patiently at the counter. After what seemed like an eternity, the officers returned.
‘What is the purpose of your visit?’ the senior official asked. His Spanish accent was so strong I’m surprised Nathan didn’t need an interpreter to understand what he was saying.
‘A much-needed holiday,’ Nathan replied, still managing to appear calm and relaxed.
‘How long do you intend to stay in Majorca?’
‘I’m not sure yet.’
‘Why have you only got a one-way ticket?’ the official asked, putting Nathan on the spot.
My stomach flipped. We’d made a stupid mistake. We should have realised that would look suspicious. Why hadn’t we just bought a return? But if the officers were so concerned about that, why hadn’t they asked me the same question? There must be more to it.
I couldn’t ignore the signals my body was sending to my brain. My insides were churning, and cold sweat raced out of my pores. I knew I needed to compose myself, but I couldn’t seem to control my racing heartbeat. It was human nature to panic when you feel like you’ve been cornered, wasn’t it?
‘I decided to get a one-way ticket because I’m not sure if I’ll be coming back this way yet. I want to do a bit of island hopping and travel between the Balearics while I’m here.’ Thankfully the words tripped off Nathan’s tongue.
The officer ran his fingers along the outline of his beard, contemplating Nathan’s answer. ‘Did you pack this bag yourself, sir?’
Now the contents of my stomach somersaulted, and I thought I was going to be sick in the middle of the terminal building. We were aware that immigration officers sometimes carried out random luggage checks, so our hand luggage contained only the passports we were travelling on and some bare essentials. We’d put the other documents, money and jewellery in our suitcases. The problem was, we hadn’t concealed any of it in the compartments. If they searched Nathan’s case, the game would be up.
‘Yes, I did.’ Nathan looked the official straight in the eye as if he had nothing to hide.
‘And have you kept your luggage with you at all times?’ The interrogation continued.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have anything to declare, Mr Jones?’
I held my breath when he asked the question I’d been dreading. While my heartbeat pounded against my chest, it took all my strength to stay rooted to the spot. My instinct was to run.
‘No, nothing to declare,’ Nathan replied.
*
‘How on earth did you manage to stay so calm?’ I said once we were in the safety of our cabin.
‘I don’t know.’
‘The whole time the officers were questioning you, I was shaking like a leaf. But you didn’t turn a hair. You looked like you had nothing to hide. You were great.’
‘I was shitting myself.’ Nathan smiled. ‘They knew we were travelling together, but they didn’t seem concerned that you only had a one-way ticket.’
‘I was thinking the same thing. It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Maybe they thought my passport wasn’t genuine and needed a reason to stop me.’
Nathan could be right, but we’d used them so many times before and we’d never had any problems. We should be grateful that even though the officers had their suspicions, they couldn’t prove his passport was a fake, so they had to let him go. I’d had a horrible feeling we were going to have to make a run for it. Thank God they didn’t search his luggage! They probably would have done if the ferry hadn’t been about to leave. Hopefully, o
ur luck had started to turn.
Nathan seemed unscathed by the hair-raising experience; he’d taken it all in his stride. I was so glad the officials didn’t stop me, or the outcome could have been very different. I’d never have been able to hold my nerve.
*
In the middle of the night, I jolted awake. Living as a fugitive was playing havoc with my sanity. Getting up, I opened the curtain and stared out the window into the night.
‘What’s wrong, Gemma?’ Nathan asked, rolling onto his side.
‘I thought I heard something outside.’ I turned around to face Nathan, my eyes wide.
‘It’s just the ship’s engines.’ Nathan yawned, lay back down on the pillow and closed his eyes.
I slipped under the covers, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. As I lay in the darkness, tossing and turning, I began thinking about what the future held for Nathan and me. Was this the way things were going to be from now on? Were we going to spend the rest of our lives sleeping with one eye open? I didn’t want to be constantly looking over my shoulder.
*
The vibrations from the engine must have eventually lulled me back to sleep because when I woke again, daylight was creeping into our cabin. Pulling back the curtains, I could see a hazy sun peeping through the clouds, as we approached the island of Majorca. While I stared at the view of the horizon in the distance, a pod of dolphins appeared and swam right by the side of the ship. I didn’t want Nathan to miss this. It was a sight tourists would pay good money to see.
‘Are you awake?’ I called over my shoulder. I was reluctant to leave my front-row seat. When he didn’t answer, I knew he was in a deep sleep, but I didn’t want to take my eyes off the group, so I called again, louder this time. ‘Nathan, wake up.’
Nathan slowly opened one eye. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Look at this.’ I smiled.
Nathan yawned, threw back the sheet and stood by my side. He was just in time to see several of the agile creatures leap out of the water.
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