by Mandy Baggot
‘We must go ... see other people,’ Yan said, standing up.
‘Wait for me, after the dancing,’ Sergei said to Lacey, locking eyes with her, his teeth reflecting in the half-light.
‘Sergei,’ Yan ordered roughly.
Lacey waved her fingers at the departing Zumba instructor and then turned back to her cocktail.
Ellen gritted her teeth. ‘He looks like Mateo from Benidorm and you are not going anywhere with him.’
7
Yan couldn’t concentrate. He stood with his back to the bar watching the musicians set up on stage, his every ion tense. He tried to dispel it, look at ease. Sergei was an idiot. His lack of restraint with women was going to get them both in trouble and he didn’t need that. It was fine for Sergei. He didn’t have to pin his whole life on this one opportunity. If Sergei lost this job, there would be others for him. If he slipped up there would be no second chances.
But he didn’t want to keep running forever. He wanted this fresh beginning in Corfu to be a stepping stone. Once he had the means, he could look into a new venture, like trying to recreate what he’d had in the village back home. But until that time, he had to do good work here, for both the money and the experience.
‘Here, lemon and lime.’ Sergei passed him a plastic cup filled with white fizzy liquid.
‘What is this?’ Yan took the cup but looked up, questioning.
‘I tell you, lemon and lime.’ Sergei held his hands up. ‘Just lemon and lime, I swear.’
‘You should not invite girl to beach.’
‘Oh relax, you think too much of everything.’ Sergei slapped his back. ‘We’re here for another three months, Yan.’
‘And you have girl back home,’ he hissed. He did not share Sergei’s philosophy that whatever happened in Corfu stayed there. It was dishonest and it didn’t sit well with him.
‘Yes and when I return, all will be well. But until then...’ Sergei began.
‘Until then what? It is OK to ... прави секс with girl?’ The use of his native language would surely make Sergei realise he was serious.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa. No one say anything about sex.’ Sergei held his hands up again.
‘You do not need to,’ he answered flatly. ‘It is written all on your face.’
* * *
‘You’re not going to be a party pooper the whole week, are you?’
Lacey asked the question as Ellen was swirling her straw around in yet another brightly coloured cocktail. It wasn’t anything like fine wine but it was hitting the spot. She’d been gazing out from the entertainment arena at the arrival of the Greek bouzouki players and the dancers. The women were wearing brightly coloured dresses with underskirts, elaborate hats with lace, flowers and gold beading. The men were in black trousers, white shirts and waistcoats with red cummerbunds. So much tradition.
She turned to Lacey. ‘There isn’t meant to be any party. You’re supposed to be planning a wedding. Isn’t there meant to be a hotel wedding coordinator?’ Ellen snapped the question out like an angry shark.
She understood that Lacey was having jitters about the wedding but exactly how unsure was she? As much as the marriage chat got on her nerves she’d rather her sister was talking about that than a beach party with someone from animation. The wedding was real. It was something written in ink in her paper diary and marked out as ‘busy’ on her iPhone. A booked, not-to-be-changed window.
‘I saw her at lunch. She looked a bit odd,’ Lacey said.
‘What?’
‘She had a moustache.’
‘Oh, Lacey.’
‘What?! I’m not having my wedding organised by a woman who thinks it’s acceptable to have a moustache!’ Lacey exclaimed, poking out her tongue.
‘It’s any excuse, isn’t it?’ Ellen swiped up her drink.
‘No. Of course it isn’t,’ Lacey insisted. ‘You need another drink. I’ll go and get one.’ She rose from her chair.
‘I don’t need another drink. I need you to be honest with me about this wedding. About your obvious need to go partying with Mr Zumba.’
This was much more than pre-wedding nerves. It wasn’t just the look at the castle in Kent, or the not wearing the engagement ring, Ellen also knew it wasn’t the first time Lacey had lapsed. And that had never been addressed either.
‘I just want to have some fun.’ Lacey slumped down into her seat.
‘That’s fine, but I’m concerned about the need to have fun with someone like Sergei.’
‘He’s different and he makes me laugh.’
‘He’s on holiday for six months of the year. He’s well-practised at making people do lots of things.’
‘I just want to ... let loose, you know. Be free for a bit.’ Lacey chewed on her straw.
‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’
‘I love Mark but you know what he’s like. It’s golf this and used cars that. Sergei, he likes the same music as me and he listens when I talk.’
Ellen picked up the far-away look in her eye. This was bad. ‘Raining attention on people is Sergei’s job, Lace.’
‘I know that and it doesn’t matter. Because I don’t want to marry Sergei. I just want to ...’ Lacey started.
‘I don’t think I want to know.’ Ellen was milliseconds away from clamping her hands over her ears. Lacey was a livewire, but she and Mark as a couple had always been solid. Well, apart from the one faux-pas she knew about. What if that wasn’t all? What if there were other episodes she didn’t know about?
‘I want to know he isn’t what I want and that Mark is,’ her sister blurted out.
‘Oh Lacey, that’s a dangerous game to play on holiday.’ Ellen let out a sigh.
‘But it shouldn’t be, should it? Not if Mark’s the one. It shouldn’t be dangerous at all, that’s the whole point,’ Lacey confessed.
‘You’re testing yourself for no reason. And I’ve seen his dark eyes and those moves. Put it this way, if you were on a diet you wouldn’t walk up and down the street past McDonalds would you?’ A food analogy. She was really scraping the barrel.
‘I probably would,’ Lacey answered.
‘Look, the Greek dancing’s about to start. We’ll watch that, have a few more drinks and then we’ll go back to the room.’ If she kept Lacey away from temptation then nothing would happen. But should she really have to shut her in their suite playing card games to stop her being unfaithful?
‘What? Before midnight? Ells! We’re on holiday!’
‘I know, but ...’
‘Come with me.’ Lacey’s eyes widened and got dewy. ‘Come with me to the party on the beach. You could get along with that Yan.’
Get along with? What did that mean? She didn’t like the tone the three words were spoken in. It almost sounded like Lacey wanted to pair her off with a random man just so she was occupied and not paying attention to her activities.
‘I wasn’t invited,’ Ellen reminded.
‘I’m inviting you.’
She shook her head. This wasn’t fair. Double bolting their room and keeping Lacey entertained with the mini-bar was one thing, to attend something they really weren’t wanted at, to stop her from cheating on her fiancé was quite another.
‘I think you need to talk to Mark. It’s not vital this wedding happens yet. You could take a step back. It isn’t like you’ve made any final decisions on anything. We’ve had nothing back from the Red Arrows,’ Ellen said.
‘I can’t talk to him. Not from here – not now.’
Ellen felt the apprehension in her sister’s words. ‘Why not?’
‘I just can’t.’ Lacey stood up. ‘I’m getting another drink.’
Before Ellen had a chance to think any more about her sister’s predicament, her iPhone began to ring. The Lassiter’s logo flashed up and she swallowed. The office – at six thirty UK time – this wasn’t good. She looked at the icon, flashing brighter then darker, brighter, then darker. She inched her hand nearer to the phone, her fingers ho
vering over the ‘answer’ key.
‘Oopa!’
The loud male voice shouting into the microphone had her nudging the table in reaction. The phone signalled a missed call and she slouched back down, waiting for the red spot that meant more voicemail.
There it was. Another message she should really listen to but couldn’t. Breathe. Float down into a calm bubble. It had to be about Mrs McGoldrick’s accounts. All she needed to do was call the office and tell Milo to get it done. One little phone call. He didn’t need to go into her desk. It was locked and she had the key. There was nothing to worry about. There was no way in the world anyone could know she had embezzled funds from Keegan Manufacturing.
‘Hi, hi, hi! Kalispera! I am Dasha, new in animation. Are you having good time?’
Ellen jumped, looked up, then up some more. Dasha was well over six feet tall and was dressed in drag. A tight black mini-skirt teamed with a bright yellow vest top. The whole ensemble was set off by a feather boa in pink and a broom he was treating like a microphone.
‘You dance the Greek with me?’ Dasha said, taking hold of her arm.
‘No thank you. I actually have a bad ankle,’ she responded. Trust this to happen when she had been on the very verge of taking charge.
His strength pulled her instantly from her seat.
‘Dance is good exercise! Come!’ He vaulted towards another table, taking a vice-like grip on a woman’s arm. ‘Hi, hi, hi! Come for dancing!’
As with Lacey, it was going to be easier to just give in.
8
As he watched her, Yan could almost feel it from across the room. Ellen was smiling, her lips parted, her mouth wide and up-turned. It was like she’d been transformed by the bouzouki music. Her cheeks were flushed too, a reddish hue with a sheen to her skin, from the humidity of the evening and, he expected, from the exertion of the Greek dancing. Yan clapped his hands together in time to the beat and prepared to encourage more dancers to join the group on stage.
He liked Greek night. Everyone got involved, all worries were forgotten and, if you got the steps wrong, no one cared. You all whooped and fell about and started all over again. If only life were like that. Everything in this world had turned so solitary. Insular. He would not live that way. He would recreate the security he’d had back in his home village somehow.
‘I think you owe me a dance.’
Monica was at his shoulder, a tight, white dress hugging her every curve and her wavy, black hair sat on her shoulders.
‘I ...’
‘I insist.’ Monica took his hand, giving him no choice.
Caught in a position he didn’t want to be in. It was becoming all too familiar.
* * *
‘That Dasha is just hilarious, isn’t he?’ Lacey tightened her hold on Ellen’s waist and joined in with the Conga-style line.
‘I’m not sure about that. He has a death grip when he wants you to do something. Where did he come from?’ she asked.
‘Bulgaria. They’re all from Bulgaria. I don’t think there can be very many people left there if they’re all in animation.’
‘Listen, Lace, about the party ...’ Ellen started.
‘It’s going to be great. I told Dasha we were going and he squealed like a girl and rubbed my cheeks with his hands.’
‘Please tell me you’re talking about your face.’
‘He’s my new BFF,’ Lacey announced.
‘You’ve known him two songs.’
‘Friendships are formed so much quicker over here. I like that continental attitude.’
Ellen moved around the corner of the stage and caught sight of Yan joining the line. Monica was clutching his hand, a pout on her lips that hinted at possession. Ellen’s eyes met with Yan’s and she swallowed. Perhaps it was possession. If Sergei’s actions were anything to go by there was a lot of free love to be had at the Blue Vue Hotel, perhaps Yan wasn’t fussy about age gaps.
‘Will you look at her in the white dress? Rough as.’ Lacey nodded in Monica’s direction.
Ellen opened her mouth to launch into a not-judging-a-book-by-its-cover speech but closed it up again. Sometimes it wasn’t appropriate to be nice. And Lacey was right. The dress was far too tight and far too young for Monica. Not that Yan seemed to care.
Ellen shook her head, diverting her attention back to the professional dancers who were trying hard to get the stage full of residents swaying in time to the bouzouki music. Monica clamped her hands onto Ellen’s hips, joining the line.
‘I love to dance,’ the woman declared, letting out a whoop and digging her nails into Ellen’s skin.
She glanced over her shoulder and caught Yan’s eye. He smiled at her and she quickly turned back around.
‘So, what’s the real reason you don’t want to go to the party?’ Lacey called over the music.
‘You might not care about gate-crashing something, but I do.’
‘Are you worried you might actually enjoy yourself, Mum?’
‘What did you call me?’
‘You need to chill out, Ells. I appreciate all the big sister love and advice and everything, but you don’t have to be the grown-up all the time. In fact I don’t want you to be.’ Lacey ended the sentence with a shout as she turned the corner and fell off her shoe.
Ellen held her tongue. Lacey had no idea. It wasn’t that she wanted to be her mother-figure. There wasn’t a queue forming or an audition process with people eager to fill the position. Not even Margarette had wanted that responsibility and she’d gone through the whole labour thing.
At the root of the swaddling was Ellen’s love for her father. His life had been one long line of let downs on the personal front. She would always pick up the slack, keep things on an even keel. Al was proud of her. He had always beamed with admiration at her every achievement. She didn’t want to let him down.
Ellen swallowed. He wouldn’t be so proud if he learnt she’d used her intelligence to pilfer funds from her ex-boyfriend’s business.
She steadied Lacey as they turned another corner on the dancefloor, her mind at odds with the tempo of the bouzouki player.
After Ross had taken her money and she’d just about picked herself up off the floor, she had got a job at the firm that handled his business accounts. Over the past few months she’d used every piece of accounting know-how she possessed to divert funds, to get her revenge. She wanted to make sure he paid for every penny he’d taken from her and suffered the same kind of humiliation. Some days she knew she’d made poor choices, other days the satisfaction of payback made her grin evilly like a Bond villain. Right now, the Corfiot air felt stifling. Keeping secrets was exhausting.
‘So, d’you fancy that Yan, or what?’ Lacey shouted.
Ellen felt the temperature rise even more and her cheeks heated up as her sister gave an elaborate wink and hitched her head back towards Yan. Subtle as a breeze block.
‘Are you joking? He thinks I’m miserable and haven’t the first clue how to have fun at an all-inclusive resort.’ And he was right but she wasn’t ever going to admit that.
‘You just told me why he couldn’t possibly fancy you. So you do fancy him! I knew it. He’s just your type,’ Lacey exclaimed.
‘What? My type? I don’t have a type!’
‘Still not hearing you don’t fancy him!’
Ellen sighed. Men were categorically off her agenda. She’d well and truly learnt her lesson. Her mission back home with the disappearing money was almost complete and after that she was going to re-evaluate, re-carpet the living room and buy back her jewellery. The only dates she had planned involved whatever Freeview had to offer and Ben & Jerry’s.
She wiggled her hips out of Monica’s grip. ‘I’m going to sit down.’
‘You mustn’t break the line, it’s bad luck,’ Lacey yelled.
‘What?’
‘It’s true, I read it in a guide book. If you break the Greek dancing line your life is blighted by a thousand curses from Aphrodite,’ Lacey insiste
d.
‘She was the goddess of love.’
‘Well, maybe it wasn’t her. Who’s the scary-looking one with the beard?’
‘Gandalf?’
‘Oh, whoever it is, it’s bad luck. Keep in line!’ Lacey ordered.
* * *
Monica kept adjusting his hands every time he moved them up and away from her hips. He wanted the music to stop now. All he wanted to do was get back to his room and have a try at sleeping. He wasn’t in the mood for drinking and having Sergei’s type of fun.
‘So, I’m only here for three more nights.’ Monica twisted her head to look up at him. ‘I think it’s time I got to know you a whole lot better.’
‘I am Yan, from Bulgaria. I speak some English and German, a little Russian,’ he responded quickly.
‘A run-down of your linguistic achievements wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.’ She licked her lips. ‘Zeus 202 in half an hour. Don’t be late.’ She batted her heavily made-up eyelashes.
Before Yan could open his mouth to reply, Monica had shimmied out of the line and made her way down from the stage and back towards her table.
They didn’t teach you how to politely decline direct propositions at animation training. And he wasn’t sure whether he had the patience for polite with Monica. She was another woman with money who wanted to use him. Maybe he didn’t want to go to the beach party with Sergei but he definitely needed a drink now.
Without thinking any further, he put his hands on Ellen’s hips and closed up the line.
* * *
A new sensation on her hips, a touch much firmer but not altogether unpleasant made Ellen look around. Here she was again, eye to eye with someone so good-looking he could be model material. A man who seemed to find it amusing to question her behaviour. Someone Lacey wanted to hook her up with.