by Mandy Baggot
‘It isn’t like you think,’ Ellen started. She wanted Lacey to understand.
‘I do know what happens when two people spend the night together, Ells. Your copies of Cosmo and Nan’s talk on chastity belts learnt me everything.’
Ellen shook her head. She didn’t want Lacey demeaning it. She was talking about it as if it were a fling and it wasn’t like that. Yes, it would be short-lived because they were going home but it wasn’t just a bit of fun, it was something special.
‘Stop.’ Ellen raised a hand, then, realising it was very over-the-top, she set it back down on her lap.
Lacey was looking confused now. Like she had all those years ago when Ellen had had to admit Margarette had never sent her Christmas or birthday presents, that she, Ellen, had bought stuff and pretended, to save her feelings. The memory of that moment made her take a breath.
‘It isn’t like that,’ she began.
Lacey was studying her every motion, like she was trying to suck up information from every slight nuance. It was off-putting and making her nervous. Breathe. Remember how good you feel.
But how did she explain it? And how was it going to sound when she actually said the words aloud?
‘I’m in love with him.’ She nodded, tried to feel bolder. ‘I’m in love with Yan.’
And there it was. The statement about a man she had known six days. Was she certifiable? Had all the stress and anxiety over Ross Keegan finally caught up with her? Had she made a mistake? Were her decisions not really her decisions, just choices her fractured mind was making because she was under so much pressure? She shook her head.
Lacey parted her lips and let out a huge gush of air. It was like someone had turned on an oscillating fan.
‘Fucking hell.’
40
Lacey had suggested wine but Ellen had managed to persuade her into making two cups of tea. Now they were sitting on their balcony watching the activity by the pool, drinking in the comings and goings and not saying too much. A line of holidaymakers were dancing a sirtaki dance to Zorba the Greek coming from the PA system. They swayed in time to the movements of the fronds of the palm trees, splashing up water from the edge of the pool with their bare feet. A couple were playing ping pong across the water, children tussled with lilos and, on the sand court, Sergei was about to commence a game of volleyball.
‘Does Yan feel the same?’ Lacey blurted.
Ellen nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure? Because men can be very convincing when they want something from you.’
She definitely knew that was true. But this sudden role reversal was sweet. Lacey was looking at her as if she were the naïve sister, the one to have the wool pulled over her eyes on matters of the heart. And she was right. Just not this time. She was certain.
‘I’m sure,’ Ellen answered. Her gaze fell to Yan, in the water with the residents doing water aerobics.
‘What are you going to do? We’ve only got today and tomorrow,’ Lacey reminded her.
‘I know.’ And every time she thought about it her stomach sank to her sandals.
‘Are you going to keep in touch? Text and email and stuff? Maybe you could come over here again in a couple of months.’ Lacey grinned. ‘Maybe I could come with you.’
Animated Lacey had thought of things she hadn’t even considered yet. She was so busy worrying about their imminent departure from Corfu, she hadn’t explored the options of carrying on the relationship, coming back. She realised then, that although she cared so deeply for him, she’d assumed it would end. That it was a relationship to cherish but one to move on from. But did it have to be that way?
Lacey was pulling at one of her acrylic nails and kicking a flip-flop at the balcony rail.
‘What about you and Mark?’ Ellen asked.
The kicking stopped and Lacey picked up her cup of tea, cradling it in her hands. ‘He came all this way because he couldn’t wait to see me.’
Ellen nodded. She was worried this might happen. That Lacey would see Mark’s arrival as a devoted action and go back on the decision she’d made. She knew, deep down, that coming to Corfu had probably been Al’s idea, not Mark’s.
‘But I wish he hadn’t.’ Lacey sighed. ‘It’s just made things more awkward.’
‘What are you going to do?’
Ellen was concerned for her sister. She didn’t want her to be bullied, her thoughts and feelings dismissed, Al to bluster in like a steamroller.
‘We’re having lunch together at that little taverna on the beach. Away from everything here.’ Lacey put her cup back on the table. ‘He needs to get it all off his chest and I need to let him down gently.’
Ellen let out a steady breath. Was it possible to be pleased and sad at the same time? Mark and Lacey finishing would be the end of an era but she was glad Lacey was the one making the decision.
‘And I don’t want you thinking this has anything to do with Serg.’ The feisty attitude was back. ‘He was just the catapult.’
‘Catalyst?’ Ellen suggested.
‘That would make an awesome cocktail name.’
Ellen couldn’t help but laugh.
‘What are you going to do?’ Lacey asked.
That was a good question and at the moment it was one Ellen had no answer to.
‘I really don’t know.’
* * *
‘Thank you everybody. I see you here tomorrow at ten.’
Yan pulled himself out of the pool and grabbed up his towel from the chair he’d left it on. Today was a good day. Today he felt worthy of this new start. Once he had the money for the church he could implement the same plan he’d had at home, with different children in a new country. He knew he could enrich their lives using the skills he’d learned. As long as he could avoid the skills he didn’t have, the ones he couldn’t master. Here, it didn’t seem to matter so much. He knew, without any doubt, that he could make this work. Because he’d done it before and he’d done it successfully. He just needed to hold onto his nerve and obtain a longer visa. The latter was definitely going to be the most difficult bridge to cross. He just couldn’t do that on his own.
‘Lacey’s father eat six fried eggs. Six, Yan.’ Sergei used extravagant hand gestures to get his point across.
‘He is a big man,’ Yan responded, putting his polo shirt over his head.
‘Do you think he knows?’ Sergei adjusted his sunglasses, his voice just above a whisper, his eyes darting over every inch of the pool area in case the subject of his discussion was around.
‘Know what?’
‘About Lacey. About us together,’ Sergei hissed.
‘Why would he know this?’
‘Yesterday she was in terrible way. She did not know what she say to anyone.’
‘Her boyfriend is here now,’ Yan reminded.
‘She is not marrying him.’
‘It is not your business. You should not have done what you did but now it is over.’ He looked directly at Sergei as he said the last phrase to gauge his reaction. He couldn’t read it.
‘I ask you this before. Do you love this girl?’ Yan asked straight.
‘No! Of course not!’
The reaction was severe and just what he had been expecting. He wasn’t sure Sergei had ever been in love. He talked of his girlfriend in Bulgaria but then he would flirt and lap up the attention of guests. That wasn’t a sign of devotion.
Yan shook his head at his friend. ‘Then why do you worry about the father?’
‘Because she come here to arrange her wedding and now …’ Sergei started.
‘Now?’
‘She cancel this because of me.’
It was hard not to laugh considering the mood he was in. This was typical Sergei. A woman spent a few intimate moments with him and he thought she decided to change the whole course of her life off the back of it.
He put an arm around Sergei and patted his shoulder. ‘You worry too much, my friend.’
‘Maybe,’ Sergei nodded.
‘We sh
ould get a drink before volleyball.’ Yan led the way towards the bar.
‘I need more than fruit juice. Have you seen Dasha this morning?’ Sergei asked. ‘He’s organising karaoke tonight. Tanja’s got some meeting in Corfu Town so you’re in charge of song selection.’
Just that one sentence had his happy demeanour crumbling to the floor.
* * *
‘Do I look OK?’
Lacey’s meek voice had Ellen raising her head from her paperback. Standing in the doorway of the balcony was her sister, looking like she’d never looked before. Flat sandals on her feet, a pretty print dress that skirted the top of her knees, no make-up on her post-box-coloured face and her hair brushed flat, glossy and rescued.
‘Oh, Lacey, you look lovely.’ There was an acorn-sized lump in Ellen’s throat and a welling up in her eyes she tried to blink away. She’d never been more proud of her than she was now.
‘He’s never seen me without make-up on before. I always went to bed in it and reapplied before he had a chance to wake up.’ She smiled. ‘Plus I still feel dodge and the amount of foundation it would take to dull this red face down would use up the whole bottle.’
‘You look lovely,’ she repeated. ‘How do you feel about it?’
‘OK. A bit nervous. I know he’s going to be upset.’ Lacey played with a tendril of her hair. ‘I’m upset too but I know … I’m sure it’s the right decision.’
Ellen nodded. ‘Now, are you positive you don’t want me to come with you? I can be discreet. I could sit at the back of the restaurant in my hat and sunglasses, behind a large menu.’
Lacey smiled and shook her head. ‘No. I want to do this on my own.’
Her little sister was growing up right before her eyes.
‘Will you be OK? Having lunch with dad?’ Lacey asked.
Lacey had dropped that bombshell on her while she was taking the rescue and recovery pack off her hair. Would she mind keeping their dad occupied at the all-inclusive buffet while she had her heart-to-heart with Mark? That way she could guarantee Al wouldn’t turn up in the middle of tears and tantrums at the taverna. How could she refuse?
Ellen also needed to clear the air. Al had arrived, trampling in as usual, opening his mouth before he thought about the consequences. But he was a good man. She loved him. They needed to stick together. The thought snagged on something inside her. If she really believed the sticking together part she would have told him about Ross and what he’d done. It was a bit late for that now.
‘We’ll be fine. Three kinds of potatoes and a lamb shank, I’ll barely have to talk,’ she responded.
* * *
Yan’s mind wasn’t on the game of volleyball, it was on karaoke. It was put on once a fortnight and on most occasions it was his job to hand out the song books and collect in the song sheets. Sergei would announce and Tanja would handle the laptop and sound system. He needed to clarify the roles with Dasha. If Dasha took over the announcing then Sergei could be in charge of playing the songs.
‘Yan! Come on, wakey wakey,’ Sergei called.
He hadn’t even seen the ball come over the net. He needed to try and put this out of his mind until later. But it was easier said than done. If he didn’t arrange something, what was he going to do? He shook himself, pulling his focus back to the present moment.
‘I am sorry,’ he apologised to his team. ‘Go again.’
Sergei pumped the ball down the court and the teenaged girl next to Yan fisted the ball up in the air for Yan to batter down onto the sand.
‘Very good,’ Yan said to her. ‘How was that, Sergei?’
Sergei replied with another thundering serve over the net, this time a high ball. Yan leapt up and belted it back with everything he had. His colleague and a new holidaymaker from Italy both went for the return but neither made proper contact. The ball skewed sideways, bounced off the top of a sun lounger and landed on a table.
Yan watched as a plastic cup tipped over into the lap of the man sitting there, covering his fawn shorts.
‘Shit,’ Sergei exclaimed, clamping a hand over his mouth.
‘I will go,’ Yan said, jogging off the court.
By the time he got to the table the man was standing up, trying in vain to brush off droplets of dark-coloured liquid from his shorts. Yan couldn’t help noticing that he was wearing leather shoes.
Quickly Yan plucked a couple of serviettes from an adjacent table and held them out to the man like a peace offering.
‘I am so sorry, sir.’
The man turned sharply, eyeing Yan with nothing short of contempt.
‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at? I only arrived here an hour ago and now I’m going to have to change again.’
The voice was hostile, his body language verging on threatening. Yan didn’t know how to respond except to apologise again. ‘Again, I am sorry. I am sure we can arrange for shorts to be cleaned at hotel.’
‘Oh, you’re sure, are you? You’re sure that this hotel is going to be able to get Coke out of these in any way that’s acceptable to me? These are designer. Do you even know what that means?’
It meant one thing to him. This man was rich as well as rude. Yan stayed still, didn’t respond. If you said nothing confrontational you couldn’t be accused of anything.
‘No, I thought not. This bloody place.’ He shook the leg of his shorts. ‘I don’t even want to be in this bloody place.’
‘Would you like for me to arrange someone to collect them for cleaning from your room a little later?’ There wasn’t much else he could offer the man. He couldn’t exactly rewind time and stop the ball from hitting the table.
‘No I bloody don’t. Just … just piss off.’ The man wafted his hand in the air like he was dismissing an irritating mosquito.
Yan ground his teeth together and held his nerve. He wasn’t going to let this man get to him. The customer was always right, even if they were very wrong. He made sure his voice was accented perfectly.
‘I hope you enjoy rest of your stay at Blue Vue Hotel.’ He left then, to the irritated mumblings of the holidaymaker ringing in his ears.
41
‘Could you pass the salt?’
Al held out one of his giant hands across the table. Ellen put the porcelain pot into his palm and watched it almost disappear. Richmond sausages. That’s what her dad’s hands had always looked like to her. Fat, pink, squishy but dependable.
‘Food’s good ‘ere,’ he continued, chowing down on corn-on-the-cob, now slathered in butter and salt.
‘Yes, it’s really good,’ she replied.
‘I bet they’d ‘ave done a great spread for the weddin’.’
She could barely contain the eye roll. ‘Dad …’
‘‘old your ‘orses. I was just sayin’, that’s all. It would ‘av been a good ol’ knees-up. Fillis would’ve loved it.’
‘Dad, Lacey’s going to tell Mark it’s over.’ There was no point beating around the bush. Al was straight-talking. He didn’t do glossing over. He had to understand.
Al put his knife and fork down on the table and picked up his napkin. Putting it over his mouth, he let out a belch. ‘Pardon me.’ He cleared his throat. ‘She’s made up ‘er mind then?’
‘Yes she has.’
Al nodded. ‘That’s that then. Back at ‘ome. Me worryin’ about ‘er every night.’
Ellen caught the depth of emotion in his voice and right then all she wanted to do was get up and put her arms around him. Instead she popped a piece of tomato in her mouth and hoped he would say something she could deal with a little bit better.
‘Because that’s what it’s been like since you left ‘ome. She never tells me where she’s goin’, what she’s doin’ or who she’s doin’ it with. Sometimes she doesn’t get ‘ome until the early hours. And I can’t sleep ‘til I know she’s there. I’m laid out in bed there, re-runs of Have I Got News For You on the telly, listenin’ for the door, eyes ‘alf-open …’
‘Dad, she’s a
grown-up now. You have to let go.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You moved out as soon as you could and left me to it.’
The feta cheese in her mouth turned sour. Breathe. Focus.
‘I didn’t mean that,’ Al added. ‘It’s just when she met Mark it was like a forklift’s worth of weight ‘ad been taken off me. I knew ‘e was a good lad, that ‘e’d look after ‘er and watch out for ‘er and I thought they’d be ‘appy.’
‘They were happy, Dad. But some things aren’t meant to last forever.’
Ellen saw the expression on her father’s face change, like a solar eclipse had spontaneously occurred.
‘Like me and your mum,’ he whispered.
It was rare for him to talk about her. The only time he ever reminisced was Christmas, birthdays or when he’d had too much to drink. He’d get the photo albums out, his eyes would glaze over and then he would shut down again. There were no stories of their life together before Ellen had come into the world, no happy memories shared. It was as if it was just too painful to remember she had ever been.
‘I thought we ‘ad all the time in the world … and then she was gone.’
Ellen didn’t know what to say. She was worried that anything she said would break his train of thought, stop him talking about her mother.
‘I’ve made so many mistakes,’ Al continued. ‘With you two girls … and Margarette.’
‘Dad ...’
‘I just want to know you’re both gonna be all right. I want to do the best I can to make sure you’re looked after and safe.’
She swallowed a lump in her throat. His vulnerability was tangible and she suddenly felt guilty about all the secrets she’d kept from him. Should she have told him? Or would knowing that his elder daughter was incapable have given him a nervous breakdown? He might have understood. He definitely would have helped, but would the knowledge that she was as imperfect as the next person have tipped him over the edge?
‘Lacey has to find her own path. And we want that to lead to the right person, don’t we?’