The Last Piece of My Heart

by Paige Toon

  ‘I was just writing you a note,’ Charlie says with a smile as I come downstairs. ‘April was getting a bit hungry. You want to come with us to breakfast?’

  ‘Can you give me a sec?’ I ask.

  ‘Sure, we’ll wait by the pool.’

  I’m back outside within a few minutes.

  ‘That was quick,’ he comments.

  ‘Figured you’d seen me looking rough on enough occasions,’ I say wryly.

  ‘You never look rough.’

  Well, that makes me smile.

  The restaurant by the boat-docking beach is bustling. There are tables outside on the terrace, under the shade of the trees. A female monkey with a baby on its back is running across the thatched roof of the restaurant while a waiter shoos it away. How can something that cute be a pest?

  ‘Do you want to go in and get April sorted first?’ I offer Charlie. ‘I’ll wait here with her.’

  ‘That’d be great, thanks,’ he replies.

  I unclick April from her pram and lift her into the highchair that has already been brought over by the ever-attentive staff, before taking a seat.

  Out of the corner of my eye, a tall, thin man in a white T-shirt approaches our table. When I glance at him, he’s already looking determinedly at me. He’s in his late fifties, at a guess, and is deeply tanned with thinning, greying, light-brown hair.

  ‘Bridget,’ he says, knowingly.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Alain Dupré.’ He has a very thick French accent.

  ‘Oh, hello!’ I stand to shake the hand he offers me.

  ‘Sit down, please.’ He pulls up a chair. ‘I saw Charlie inside. I thought I would come and say ’ello.’

  ‘It’s really nice to meet you.’

  ‘So you’re my Nicki’s. . . How do they say? Phantom writer?’

  ‘Ghostwriter,’ I correct him with a smile.

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘Bit strange you are ’ere with her husband and daughter, no?’

  Oh, God, not another hater. . .

  Urgh, that word!

  ‘That was just the way it worked out.’ I’m tense, but I hope I don’t sound too defensive.

  To my surprise, he smiles. ‘Charlie says you ’ave been cheering them up.’

  ‘Really?’ Hope replaces some of the tension.

  ‘It is good,’ he says. ‘What ’appened with Nicki was very tragic.’ His face grows sombre as he looks down at the table. ‘Very, very sad.’

  ‘Yes,’ I agree quietly.

  He perks up and strokes April’s head. ‘But it is good to see this little monkey.’

  She stares at him vacantly and he tweaks her nose. She smiles and he smiles back at her. It’s a lovely sight.

  ‘Very good indeed,’ he says softly, brushing her cheek. ‘I ’ave to get back to work, but I maybe see you later, yes?’

  ‘That would be great,’ I reply, and I mean it.

  He crosses paths with Charlie on his way back indoors, clapping his son-in-law gently on his back. Charlie looks heartened when he rejoins us, carrying a bowl of Rice Krispies and some fresh fruit.

  ‘Okay?’ he asks as he places the bowl in front of April.

  ‘Yes,’ I reply with a smile.

  More than okay. . .

  ‘I’m just going to nip in here to ask about rock-climbing lessons,’ I say to Charlie as we’re wandering back past the activities-and-excursions hut after breakfast.

  ‘Rock-climbing lessons?’ he asks with surprise. ‘Oh, for the book!’ he realises.

  ‘I’ll see you back there?’

  ‘Okay.’

  There’s a girl sitting behind the desk and a young couple over by the window, flicking through a brochure.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the desk girl asks me.

  I get straight down to business, booking myself onto Isak’s beginners’ taster session for this afternoon.

  Charlie smiles at me when I return. ‘I forgot we weren’t just here on holiday, for a minute.’

  I wish that were the case.

  ‘Are you actually going to try rock climbing?’

  ‘I may as well.’ I shrug. ‘Nicki’s character does it, so it’d help if I could write from experience.’

  ‘When are you going?’

  ‘This afternoon.’

  ‘Maybe we’ll come to watch,’ he says with a grin.

  I can’t lie to him. . .

  He notices my hesitation. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Charlie, Isak still works here,’ I say gently. ‘I’m doing the session with him.’

  He stares at me, his mouth dropping open. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes.’ I sit down on the sofa and look at him, pleading with him to understand.

  He is not at all happy.

  ‘Why does it have to be him?’ he asks me.

  ‘Does it matter?’ I reply with a frown. After all, this is me, not Nicki, we’re talking about.

  ‘No, I guess not,’ he says.

  But he’s a bit off with me for the rest of the morning.

  He takes April to the beach while I make my way back to the activities-and-excursions hut. There are a few people already getting kitted up with harnesses and helmets when I arrive.

  I feel a flurry of nerves. I am actually doing this.

  A good-looking man of about my age comes over with a clipboard. ‘What’s your name?’ he asks.

  I tell him and he scans his sheet of paper and crosses me off. ‘I’m Isak,’ he says and I jolt. His grip is firm and efficient as he shakes my hand. ‘Emily here will sort you out for equipment. We’ll leave in ten minutes.’

  I can barely take my eyes off him after that – it’s so surreal to finally meet him in person after reading so much about him in Nicki’s diary. It’s almost as if he’s some sort of celebrity.

  He’s slim with closely cropped dark hair and interesting grey eyes. He’s not much taller than I am, with wiry, lean muscles and freckly, tanned skin. As he talks to the other climbers, I detect a mild Swedish accent. His English is excellent.

  There are five of us in the group – two young couples and yours truly – and we walk together past the restaurant where we ate breakfast and down to the beach. There are a few buildings that aren’t connected to the resort out here: a café, bar and a shop with colourful clothes and beach toys piled up outside under a veranda. I spy a number of bright orange, green and blue monkey puppets dangling from a stand and think of April, but we’re already moving past the building to the rocky shore. We make our way carefully between the sharp rocks, beside the soaring cliffs to a small beach. I look up to see a big overhang jutting out from the cliff face several storeys from the ground. Some climbers are already trying to navigate it.

  ‘Is that where we’re going?’ I ask Isak worriedly, fixating on a bare-chested, muscled man, dangling from the underside of the overhang. Ropes attach his harness to a hook and his friend is holding his rope at the bottom, but still. . .

  Isak glances at me with a smirk. ‘No, that’s for the more experienced climbers. We’ll be tackling this little cliff face, here.’ I get the feeling he’d quite like to laugh.

  ‘Thank fuck for that.’

  At that comment, he does.

  Isak spends some time talking us through the steps before we’re finally ready to be hooked up to the safety ropes. I decide to go last, figuring I can check out how the others fare before I make a total tit of myself.

  ‘Okay, Bridget, up you go,’ Isak says, holding my rope and belaying me from the bottom. I have his full attention at last, but I don’t know quite how I’m going to broach the subject of Nicki when I’m clinging to a rock face with my fingers.

  ‘Good,’ he calls encouragingly as I put one hand in front of the other and hoist my entire body weight up. I’m going to ache after this, I just know it. I put all of my attention into concentrating and decide I’ll find a way to talk to Isak later once I’ve really impressed him.

  Obviously, I don’t really believe I’ll impress him at all, s
o I feel kind of proud when I don’t do too badly.

  ‘Well done,’ he says with what I think is admiration as my feet hit the rocky, sandy shore. ‘Is that really your first time?’

  ‘Yep.’ I nod.

  ‘Very good. How long are you here?’

  ‘Almost a week.’

  ‘You should sign up for a course. I think you have a knack for it.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I reply, feeling my cheeks brighten. It’s so uncanny that this is Nicki’s Isak!

  He turns to the others. ‘Guys, that was a great first try. Really excellent. I hope to see you all again while you’re here.’

  If that was a sales pitch, it was effective. Everyone looks gladdened by his praise.

  It’s my intention to try to walk beside him on the return journey to the resort, but, frustratingly, he strikes up a conversation with one of the men in our group. After we’ve taken off all of our equipment in the activities hut, I hang back, hoping to speak to him. One of the other couples are really taking their time, and, to my exasperation, Isak calls out goodbye and leaves before they do. I awkwardly hurry after him.

  ‘Isak?’ I call, chasing him down the redbrick path.

  He glances over his shoulder and halts with surprise when he sees me.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asks as I come to a stop in front of him.

  ‘Have you got a moment?’

  He looks surprised, but not unpleasantly so. ‘Sure.’

  We move off to one side as a golf cart trundles past with some new arrivals’ luggage bumping away inside.

  ‘I haven’t been completely upfront with you,’ I say. ‘I’m actually here researching a book.’

  His dark eyebrows jump up. ‘Really?’

  ‘You remember Nicki Dupré?’

  Now his eyebrows practically hit his hairline. ‘Nicole?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You are friends?’ he asks me with surprise.

  It’s the present tense that does it. He doesn’t know she’s gone.

  ‘When was the last time you saw her?’ I check, just in case I’m wrong.

  ‘Oh, years ago,’ he replies with a frown, thinking. ‘You know we used to be in a relationship?’

  I nod.

  ‘We didn’t stay in touch,’ he tells me, and, despite all of the hours I’ve spent pondering about whether Nicki was drawing on personal experience when she wrote about being in love with two men at the same time, I believe him. I don’t know yet what that means for me, but I’m certain he’s telling the truth.

  ‘Is she well?’ he asks amiably.

  I take a deep breath, feeling troubled that I’m going to be the one to break this to him. But someone needs to. He obviously doesn’t speak to Alain. Maybe they just never cross paths. I’m not sure Nicki’s father ever even knew the details of her relationship with Isak. He was working so much, she had to occupy herself most of the time. And it was a long time ago that they went out – almost ten years. It probably never even occurred to Alain to tell him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say to Isak, my voice wavering. ‘I’m afraid Nicki – Nicole – passed away last year.’

  He looks crushed, but not utterly devastated, not like he’d look if he were still madly in love with her.

  ‘Oh, no. What happened?’ he asks.

  I tell him.

  Isak doesn’t have long to stay and talk, but he’d like to hear more about Nicki and he says he’d be happy to try to help me with my research. I agree to his suggestion to meet up later. He still lives in the village further along from the resort, so he gives me details on where to go.

  Charlie is by the pool when I return, sitting on a sun lounger and looking in a right grumpy state. April must be having her afternoon nap. He glances over at me.

  ‘How did it go?’ he asks.

  ‘It was fine,’ I reply. ‘Aren’t you going in?’ I nod at the pool.

  ‘In a bit.’

  ‘It’s so hot,’ I say.

  ‘Are you going to tell me about it?’ he asks.

  ‘Of course I will, if you want to know.’

  ‘Yes.’

  I walk over to him and pull my T-shirt over my head. ‘Sorry, I’m too hot,’ I say, unbuttoning my shorts. ‘Rock climbing is hard work.’

  He watches me guardedly as I strip off down to my swimming costume – a blue-and-green polka-dot one today.

  I step into the pool and let the cool water engulf me, going right under. When I emerge, Charlie is looking at me, and he’s still waiting.

  I swim over to the edge and gaze up at him. ‘You should come in, it’s lovely.’

  ‘Did you meet Isak?’ he asks, and it doesn’t take a genius to work out that he’s jealous.

  What went down between Nicki, Charlie and Isak happened years ago, but Charlie still clearly detests the thought of him.

  That’s because he still loves his wife desperately, I think with a pang.

  Regardless of the thought that popped into my mind when I woke up this morning, I don’t believe I would have ever told Charlie if Nicki was having an affair with Isak. It would hurt him too much. He deserves to have untainted memories of her, of the mother of his child.

  He stands up and pulls his light-grey T-shirt over his head. He’s already wearing faded orange swimming trunks.

  ‘What was he like?’ he asks as he slides into the water beside me. My breath quickens.

  ‘All right,’ I reply noncommittally. ‘He had no idea about Nicki.’

  ‘No?’ His eyes widen.

  ‘No. He was sad to hear about it.’

  Charlie leans his back against the side of the pool and rests his elbows on the ledge behind him as he stares moodily at the waterfall. He looks like a frigging model with his broad chest and bulging biceps.

  And I know that’s not an appropriate train of thought considering he’s struggling with memories of his late wife.

  ‘He said he’d help me with my research,’ I reveal.

  He glances at me again. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I’m meeting up with him tonight.’

  ‘Oh.’ He seems surprised and then put out. ‘So we’re not going to the Thai restaurant?’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ I ask hopefully.

  He nods. ‘What did you think of him?’ he asks, and it’s a more specific question from the ones that have come before.

  ‘I liked him,’ I reply honestly. ‘He’s good at his job. He’s certainly good at encouraging people to sign up for rock-climbing lessons,’ I add with a smirk. ‘He thought I should go back for a course.’

  ‘Did you think he was good-looking?’

  I laugh. Now that’s a direct question. ‘Yeah, in a wiry, rock-climber sort of way. He’s not a patch on you,’ I say with a grin.

  He grins back at me. That comment cheered him up.

  ‘Or Elliot, no doubt.’ He obviously feels compelled to belatedly mention my boyfriend.

  Ex-boyfriend.

  The corners of my lips turn down. Time to come clean. ‘We broke up,’ I say quietly, my tone losing its humour.

  Charlie recoils. ‘When?’

  ‘A few weeks ago. After you and April came to see me.’

  ‘Why?’ He looks stunned.

  ‘A couple of reasons. We weren’t making the long-distance thing work.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I’m okay.’

  He reaches out and brushes my arm, leaving behind a trail of goose bumps. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m really fine.’ I meet his gaze, but his concern brings ridiculous tears to my eyes. ‘God!’ I exclaim, brushing them away. ‘I really am fine. Stop being nice to me!’

  ‘Aw,’ he says gently.

  I duck under the water and swim to the far side of the pool. When I turn around to face him, he’s still watching me.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ he asks with narrowed eyes.

  I shrug and push off from the side, swimming back over to him again, but the pool isn’t big enough
for me to come up with a satisfactory response in the time it takes me to reach him.

  ‘Guess I thought I’d tell you when I saw you.’

  He gives me a little frown, trying to work me out.

  ‘So you’re single now,’ he says in a slightly dry voice. ‘How’s that going to work out for your blog?’

  He catches my arm before I can go underwater again. ‘Are you being deliberately evasive?’ he asks with a laugh.

  His touch sears my skin, but I hate the cold when he lets me go.

  ‘What does it mean for your blog?’ he asks again, demanding an answer.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I reply, looking straight at him. The sunlight hitting the pool is reflected in his eyes, making the shards of green, gold and brown glitter.

  ‘I thought he was your last piece,’ he says, and his expression is almost challenging.

  My pulse is racing, but I hold our eye contact.

  ‘Guess I was wrong.’ I slip under the water again before he can say anything else.

  Chapter 41

  ‘Want us to walk you there?’ Charlie asks later that evening as I’m gathering my things together. He sounds coolly indifferent, but I’m not sure he feels it.

  ‘No, I’ll be fine.’ I pick up my camera and slip the strap over my head. ‘Catch you later,’ I say.

  ‘We’ll be here.’

  He mentioned that he’d probably get room service later so April can have a proper sleep in her cot. I feel bad for deserting him for the evening.

  I click off several photographs as I follow the redbrick path, inwardly singing an adapted version of ‘Follow the Yellow Brick Road’ from The Wizard of Oz. I walk out of the resort gates and turn left, making my way along the concrete footpath adjacent to the shore in the opposite direction to the rock-climbing cliffs. The further away from the resort I go, the less pristine the beach becomes. I pass a few rustic cafés, restaurants and bars, with rickety corrugated-iron ceilings and no walls. The atmosphere seems chilled and the décor unfussy, as laidback punters sit and enjoy the views across the bay.

  Everything feels more authentic out here – even the trees aren’t as well-maintained.

  I pass a couple of resorts, more shops and bars and various huts arranging excursions, activities and tours. Eventually, I come to the bar where Isak said he’d meet me. I go inside and order a beer, then sit down and wait. He joins me after only a few minutes.