Then. Now. Always.

by Isabelle Broom

  I watch as a Spanish woman leads her young daughter down to the edge of the water on the beach below us. The girl is at that adorable age where she’s just begun to walk, and her chubby little legs are wobbling with glee as she toddles across the wet sand. What a place to grow up, I think, not for the first time. There’s so much to be said for stripping back your life and ridding it of clutter – a fact that I know to be true, yet still haven’t done anything about. The thing I hate most about my bedroom back in the shared house in Acton is all the stuff I’ve accumulated over time. There are DVDs I never watch, CDs gathering dust, photo albums I haven’t opened for years, clothes I don’t wear, jewellery I’ve never bothered to untangle, ornaments I’ve had since I was a teenager, books I’ll probably never read, shoes with holes, more clothes. We’re led to believe that all these material things will make us happy, that they signify success and contentment, when, in actual fact, the opposite is true. All that this clutter does is anchor you to one place. I think all you really need to be happy is what that little girl down on the beach has – the sun on your back, food on the table and someone to love who loves you in return. If it’s so simple, though, why do we dither around for so many years looking for something else?

  ‘Hannah.’ Theo is peering at me. ‘You look miles away.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, blinking rapidly and putting down my glass. ‘I was having an epiphany about the trappings of modern life.’

  ‘Oh?’ Theo is leaning towards me. ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘Hold that thought,’ I say, standing up. ‘Nature calls.’

  Once in the safety of the bathroom, I turn on both the taps and beam at myself in the mirror. A day sitting out in the sun has given me a warm glow – well, either that or the wine is stronger than it tastes – and my eyes are sparkling with the promise of an evening spent in the company of Theo. It’s not my imagination; he is most definitely behaving differently around me. He’s been teasing me all day, dropping deliberate innuendos into the conversation and finding excuses to touch me. He could have asked me to leave hours ago, but he hasn’t. On the contrary, he’s found pretexts for me to stay – and he was nervous about reading that introduction to me. The fact that I’m the first person he’s shared it with makes me feel even taller than I already am, and, as I wash my hands and tuck away loose strands of hair behind my ears, I feel sure that for once I’m not grabbing at the wrong end of the rod.

  Striding back across the decking and reaching for my wine, I’m about to compose another toast in praise of Mojácar, when Theo’s phone starts ringing. He answers it as I sit back in my chair.

  ‘Hello. Yes? Hello, Tom.’

  My heart sinks.

  ‘Hannah is here with me, yes.’

  Oh no.

  ‘I think so, yes.’ He turns towards me. ‘Hannah, are you okay?’

  I nod, unable to speak.

  ‘She is nodding,’ Theo says, but he looks slightly perturbed now.

  ‘Yes, I will tell her. Yes, we’re meeting at the old well first thing on Monday. Okay. Right. Bye, Tom.’

  Theo puts his phone back on the table.

  ‘Did you two have an argument?’ he asks. He doesn’t have to say who he means, not now.

  ‘Not really.’ I shrug and sip my wine. It suddenly doesn’t taste as nice as it did a few minutes ago.

  ‘He wanted me to tell you that he’s booked lunch for you both tomorrow, at the place with the barbecue.’

  ‘Right.’

  I can’t help it, I let go of the heavy sigh that’s been building inside me.

  ‘Are you upset with Tom for making a move on your sister?’ Theo asks me now.

  I know that if I raise my eyes, his will be waiting.

  ‘Yes,’ I whisper.

  Theo holds my gaze, then abruptly stands up and walks inside with the half-empty wine bottle. He doesn’t say anything, so after a few seconds I follow him, taking a seat next to him on the pale grey sofa. The sky outside the glass doors is a rich admiral blue, but it feels dark inside the villa, and more intimate than the seats outside on the decking. I wish he would put on some music, something to soften the energy in the air between us.

  ‘Are you angry because you like Tom?’ Theo wants to know. I had forgotten how direct he can be sometimes. I’m not sure if it’s his age or his Greekness, but whatever it is, I find it deeply unsettling.

  ‘I don’t fancy Tom, if that’s what you’re asking,’ I tell him firmly. ‘I just find it a bit weird, that’s all.’

  What I don’t add is that I feel betrayed, because Tom has sided with Nancy when he should be backing me. I don’t tell Theo that the thought of Nancy stealing away one of my closest friends makes me so mad I could sob. It’s all too complicated and messy – and I don’t want him to think that I’m conflicted when it comes to my feelings. I know who I want, and it isn’t Tom.

  ‘Who do you fancy?’

  I knew the question was coming, but the words still hit me like tiny metaphorical bullets. I find that I can’t look at Theo, so instead I stare hard at a brown glass ashtray on the coffee table in front of us.

  ‘You shouldn’t ask me that,’ I mumble, and I hear him move a fraction closer to me.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because,’ I say, still not looking at him.

  Theo waits for a moment before replying, then leans back against the cushions and laces his fingers together behind his head.

  ‘Perhaps you are right,’ he concurs. ‘Maybe it is best that we remain as we are.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask, reeling around to face him.

  ‘I am your boss,’ he points out, releasing his hands so he can use them to gesture wildly in the air. ‘It would not be fair on you.’

  ‘Yes, it would,’ I babble quickly, before my sensible side can lasso my words back into my mouth. Theo is frowning slightly, and I realise it’s now or never.

  ‘I’m a grown woman, Theo. I know what I want.’

  ‘Do you?’ He’s said it so quietly that I instinctively shuffle along the sofa so I’m closer to him. His already impenetrable eyes look like ebony stones in the half-darkness, and my hands go clammy as he scrutinises me. The atmosphere in the small space between the two of us is so intense that I’m surprised it’s not making my hair stand on end in static strands.

  ‘If we do this, we cannot let it affect our work,’ Theo murmurs.

  I widen my eyes and nod my head urgently up and down, all of a sudden so aware of my lips that it feels strange to use them.

  ‘Come here to me.’

  Oh. My. God.

  I can’t help it; I drop my eyes again. The shaky confidence that I dredged up a few minutes ago has fallen away, and now I feel as if I’m floundering in a deep pool of sexual inadequacy. I want Theo, but I’m afraid.

  ‘Hannah,’ I hear him say, and when I finally raise my chin and look at him, Theo’s already moving towards me, and the next second our lips are touching, then our tongues. His hands travel into my hair, across the small of my back, along my bare thighs, and I let out a low moan of pleasure.

  My heart is hammering and there’s a pulse beating incessantly from somewhere much lower down, too. I try not to kiss him back too eagerly, keen to prolong the moment and savour the taste and feel of him, but Theo has other ideas. His hands are up on my face now and he’s angled my head towards his own, his tongue exploring every crevice of my mouth, then moving down my neck and across my throat. His passion is surprising me, and I try in vain to keep up with the urgency of his kisses and his grasping fingers. My head is beginning to spin.

  He mutters something in Greek, then his hand is down the front of my dress, extracting one white breast, and he’s bending his head to kiss my exposed nipple. He’s not being gentle with me, but the ferocity of his desire is making me almost pant with pleasure. Theo actually wants me; I can feel it. And I want him.

  Sliding his hands down around my waist, he hoists me up so I’m sitting astride him, and I flinch a fraction as my d
ress rides up. It’s only a tiny hesitation, but it’s enough to snap Theo out of the trance that he was in, and he pauses with his mouth around one breast, looking up at me with a mixture of longing and confliction.

  Don’t stop! I want to scream at him, but I can’t seem to find the words. Instead I hold my body against his, my chest pressed up to his and my hips rocking very slowly backwards and forwards. There’s a single layer of clothing now between us, and I can feel how much Theo would like there to be none. Leaning in to tentatively kiss his neck, I walk my fingers down to the waistband of his shorts and search for the button.

  ‘Wait.’ He catches my hand in his own.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I ask, not daring to look at him.

  ‘I don’t have condoms,’ he says, his voice laden with lust but unmistakably disappointed. ‘Do you?’

  ‘No.’ I shake my head sadly and sit back on his knees. ‘I didn’t think that … I never thought …’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Theo says, putting a warm finger against my lips to silence me. ‘We still have plenty of time.’

  I want him to kiss me again, but instead he eases me back on to the sofa cushion and playfully ruffles my hair, a lopsided smile on his flushed face.

  ‘Hannah, Hannah, Hannah,’ he murmurs, tracing a finger around the line of my jaw. ‘You are very beautiful.’

  ‘If you say so,’ I say with a laugh, but he frowns at me.

  ‘Do not argue with me now – I am your boss.’

  ‘That’s true,’ I agree, shyly nibbling the tip of his finger as he slides it between my lips. ‘And I promise to do whatever you say.’

  Theo groans at this, but it’s one of desire rather than dismay. We both look down to where the material of his shorts is being strained almost to tearing point, and again he begins to mutter in Greek.

  ‘Perhaps pour us some more wine,’ he instructs, standing up and heading towards the bathroom. ‘I just need a few moments.’

  I know why he needs a moment. I know so well that my face is now the same colour as a London bus that’s been set on fire, and I giggle as he closes the door behind him.

  Can this really be happening? Have I just been writhing against my sexy Greek boss while he leaves love bites on my boobs? Yes, I absolutely have, and it’s the greatest feeling I have ever experienced in my entire life. Tom may think he won the top prize when he somehow convinced Nancy to get off with him, but my finally getting off with Theo is actual next-level stuff. If I wasn’t so massively peeved with Tom, I’d be calling him right now to boast about it.

  Sod Tom, I think, inserting my boobs back into my now-even-more-favourite dress and topping up both the glasses with more wine. He can hire a plane to sky-write his messages of infatuation with Nancy for all I care.

  21

  When I woke up this morning, a good five minutes passed when I genuinely believed that I’d simply had a very good, very real dream about hooking up with Theo. But no, it’s actually true – there are nibble marks on my chest to prove it, and a text message on my phone from the man himself, thanking me for an ‘amazing day’. Theo had an amazing time with me. Me! Hannah Hodges – Queen of the Singletons.

  On the very edges of my euphoric happiness, however, a grubby disquiet is steadily creeping its way back into my subconscious. Despite what’s happened with Theo and the way it made me feel briefly invincible to pain, I’m still pissed off with Tom and Nancy. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been this riled about anything in a very long time – perhaps since finding out that my dad had run off and left me and my mum. But then that’s been a long-standing, festering resentment that I’ve grown up with – not this white-hot anger that I’m experiencing now. Being ecstatically happy at the same time as being twisted into knots of animosity is a very confusing way to feel, and I keep veering between the two like a spider monkey swinging through a jungle. My brain wants to be happy, but my heart feels brittle – and I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry.

  Theo shooed me out of the villa after we’d finished the bottle of wine last night, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I didn’t get myself back to the apartment immediately, then he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. Given that those actions would almost certainly involve the two of us naked, sweaty and entwined, it took some serious persuading on his side. When I eventually did get up to leave, he followed me to the door and kissed me for so long and with such tenderness that every single atom in my body was left buzzing with pleasure.

  I want to run back to the villa now, knock on his bedroom window and climb under his sheets, but I force myself to stay put. I don’t even text him. Playing it cool is never something that I’ve been very good at, but Theo is far too important to allow anything to go wrong. He’s a red-blooded man, and I know that I must leave it up to him to make the next move. And anyway, I can’t spend my Sunday in bed with Theo, because I’ve got to go and meet bloody Tom and at some point will probably have to face even bloodier Nancy. Groaning at the injustice of it all, I reach down and pull the thin sheet back over my head, vaguely thinking that a lie-in might actually be a good idea. Alas, I had forgotten who I was sharing an apartment with.

  ‘Hannah!’

  Claudette doesn’t wait for me to answer before she opens the door. She’s wearing quite a lot of clothes for her this morning, and by that, I mean nothing more than a lacy red bra and denim shorts. Her tan is flawless, of course, as is her sweep of neatly styled dark hair.

  ‘Ah, you’re alone,’ she says, looking around the room as if she can’t quite believe it.

  I frown. ‘Who did you think I had in here, the Spanish national football team?’

  ‘You wish,’ Claudette replies, amusement dancing in her eyes. ‘I thought Nancy would be here.’

  ‘She’s with Tom,’ I inform her, stifling a yawn.

  ‘Are you sure?’ She looks puzzled.

  ‘Pretty sure,’ I reply. ‘They’ve been attached at the hip since she got off with him the other night.’

  ‘She did what?’ Claudette sits down next to me, her expression aghast.

  ‘I don’t know the specifics.’ I shrug, only just catching my grimace in time. ‘But I know something is going on between them. I thought you knew.’

  Each of Claudette’s eyes is wider than the drum of a washing machine.

  ‘I did not know,’ she declares, a scowl adding lines to her forehead.

  ‘I assumed you’d be all for it,’ I add. ‘You’re always nagging Tom to be more confident with girls. Well, now he’s finally done it.’

  I expect Claudette to pull one of her wry expressions, but instead she shakes her head vehemently. ‘But she is …’ She wrings her hands. ‘And he is …’

  ‘Tom.’ I finish.

  ‘Yes. Tom. An imbecile!’

  I should stick up for him, really, tell her she’s being a bit mean, but I’m still cross with him so instead I just let out a snort of laughter.

  ‘How the hell did it happen?’ she wants to know.

  I can feel my face screwing up unpleasantly.

  ‘The other night when she went off with Ignacio, we had a row. I told her off and she went to stay at Tom’s.’

  It isn’t much of an explanation, but it’s all I have. I don’t know the details of what happened once they got back to Tom’s little apartment. I don’t want to know them, not ever.

  ‘Tom is a dark fox,’ Claudette says now.

  ‘You mean horse,’ I correct.

  ‘I mean giraffe.’

  This time I really do laugh. Tom is very much like a giraffe, with his long neck, patchy tan and big, appealing eyes.

  ‘I’m meeting him today for lunch,’ I tell her. ‘Why don’t you come?’

  Claudette may have been winding me up over the past few days, but I like how anti the idea of Tom and Nancy she is. Plus, her being there might help to ease the inevitable tension.

  ‘I can’t,’ she says regretfully, standing up and walking over to the full-length mirror to admire herself. ‘Car
los has the day off, so we are going to a nudist beach.’

  Of course they are.

  ‘Okay …’

  ‘You must put a stop to this thing with your sister and Tom,’ she instructs, without bothering to turn away from her reflection.

  ‘How can I?’ I grumble. ‘I’m not a fan of it either, but I can’t tell them what to do.’

  ‘She is your sister,’ Claudette points out. ‘If she knew how you felt, then she wouldn’t want to cause a problem.’

  I actually scoff at that. All Nancy has ever done is cause problems for me. Her mere existence is a problem.

  ‘You need to tell her how you feel about Tom.’

  ‘What?’

  Claudette finally stops examining herself and comes back towards me.

  ‘Come on, I know you like him more than a friend.’

  ‘I really do not!’ I reply, half-laughing as I throw off the bedsheet and stand up, hurrying past her into the bathroom. Why does everyone keep accusing me of having lovey-dovey feelings for Tom? I’m getting sick of it.

  ‘I honestly don’t,’ I say again loudly, so she’ll hear me over the sound of the taps running. When I re-emerge, Claudette is in the kitchen making herself tea. It would never occur to her to offer to make one for me.

  ‘It’s okay to admit it,’ she says. ‘The two of you would be perfect together.’

  I think about what she said just a few minutes ago, about how Tom was an imbecile, as if he wasn’t good enough for Nancy. Aside from it being absolutely not true, it’s also pretty damning of me, who she obviously thinks of as being way down the league table compared to my half-sister.

  ‘Theo is the one I like, not Tom,’ I blurt, regretting the words as soon as I’ve said them. I expect Claudette to laugh at me, but instead she just looks at me with an appalled sort of disappointment and shakes her head.

  ‘What’s so wrong with that?’ I demand, trying to keep my tone nonchalant.

  For a second I think she’s going to reply, but then she simply drops her spoon into the sink and steps past me.