My thoughts are everywhere. That’s the trouble with peace.
What the fuck was Ellen on about earlier? As if I’d go near her letch of a husband … and her thinking she knew my character. She couldn’t be more wrong. I’m not interested in anything like that. It’s bad enough having the trouble of one husband, without getting into the complications of having an affair. I can’t even look after myself.
Peter and Monica are getting on well. Neither have mentioned my problems from home, though they might have talked about it amongst themselves. I’m past caring right now. It’s all been trumped by my behaviour this afternoon. I thought Monica wasn’t maternal before this holiday – she was only nineteen when she had Leo. She mothered him as though it were a job. But after today, and hearing her now with Annie, she’s like a different person. The walls are so thin.
‘I’m sure Annie just smiled, Nathan,’ she’s saying.
‘It’s probably wind,’ says Peter, repeating what my mother said about Bobby at that age.
‘Have we got any beers in the fridge?’ says Nathan.
The water drips off me like I’m a washed-up whale as I sit up in the bath. The bubbles have slipped off me and my belly is hanging over like Father Christmas’s. I prod my white, stretch-marked stomach and my finger goes in at least two inches. I should be bothered about it, but I’m not.
‘Hurry up, Debs!’ shouts Monica at the bathroom door. ‘You’ve been in there an hour. I need to wash this chlorine off me before we go out.’
‘Really? That long? Did you put your watch forward by mistake?’
‘What?’
‘Never mind. I’ll be out in a minute.’
It doesn’t matter what time her watch says compared to mine – time is passing the same, isn’t it? I used to think like she did – I used to get excited about going out. It’s probably because I’ve got two kids now, and she only has one. That’s why she cares about what she looks like. It must be that.
I pull the plug and stand, grabbing the shower rail for balance as I climb out. It must be nice to have a shower – so much quicker. I think this for only a few seconds before realising showering would still be too much of an effort. What’s the point of bathing or showering every day if you hardly go anywhere?
I grab the outfit from the hook on the back of the door. Monica must’ve selected it from my suitcase. It’s my favourite baggy black dress and I love her for choosing it for me. She does know me after all.
I dress and look at the top half of myself in the mirror. My hair is frizzy, and my skin is blotchy, but it’ll do.
I open the bathroom door and expect a waft of cold, but the air’s stifled.
How much would it cost to telephone Mum and Dad from here?
I’ve been placed on a white plastic chair around a white plastic table next to Nathan and Monica. Peter’s happy because he’s manning the barbecue. He gave me a glass of sangria – almost half a pint. I tried to protest, but he said, ‘You deserve a night off after the day you’ve had.’ It’s like he’s a different person to this afternoon.
Monica’s on baby duty. She put a roll of film in the old camera my dad gave Bobby, and gave Leo one of those new disposable ones. They’re taking pictures of the floor – God knows what insects they’ll find over here. At least it’s keeping them quiet. Bobby’s such a good boy. I used to call him Mummy’s Special Soldier when he was smaller, but like most things, it passes.
He’s been looking at me funny since this afternoon – like he doesn’t believe it’s really me, that an alien’s possessed his own mother. Perhaps that’s true.
Oh shit. Ellen’s walking over. She’s only fifty or so yards away. I slide down in the chair.
‘Who the fuck invited her?’ I hiss to Monica. ‘I told her not to come.’
She follows my gaze.
‘Oh. Sorry. I forgot to mention, Peter spoke with them earlier – they almost invited themselves, or rather, she did.’
‘That bloody woman’s a psycho. One minute she’s really nice to me, the next she accused me of eyeing up her perv of a husband.’
Monica turns sharply to face me.
‘Are you kidding? Him?’
She turns to look at the vision that is Alan, complete with beer-belly overhang. We could almost be tummy twins.
‘Him?’ I say. ‘You’re meant to be shocked at the insinuation of me having an affair.’
‘Yeah, that too,’ she mutters under her breath; they’re only a few feet away. ‘That woman is deluded.’
In an instant, Monica plasters a smile on her face and stands, holding out a hand to the glorious couple. They’re matching in neon green – her with a boob-tube dress, and him with long shorts (no T-shirt).
Bobby and Leo come towards us, sniggering. They both take a picture of them. That photo will really cheer me up when I get home.
Alan sits next to Nathan, and Ellen pulls out a chair next to me. She smiles when Peter hands her a glass of sangria.
‘Well, isn’t this nice,’ she says, sitting back, admiring the view of the concrete apartment block next door. She leans towards me. ‘Heard about your Miami Vice episode in the swimming pool today. It could’ve gone so wrong if your Don Johnson over there hadn’t come to your rescue.’
She’s looking at Monica. My mouth drops open. Ellen hated the sight of her yesterday. I feel uneasy just being next to her.
‘I was overtired,’ I say. ‘It’s having a newborn.’
‘Hardly. You were necking those cocktails back. Still,’ – she pats me on the hand – ‘we can’t all be Wonder Woman, can we?’
‘Quite,’ I say, sucking my straw. ‘I’m more Miss Piggy than Wonder Woman.’
Ellen bends over, and her shoulders shake. It’s like she’s laughing, but there’s no sound.
‘Oh, you’re a card,’ she says.
She raises her head; her face glowing after too much sun.
‘Is your sister not joining us tonight?’ I say.
She glances at me from the corner of her eye, her smile gone.
‘I forgot I told you about her. Don’t say anything, will you? You caught me at a bad time.’ She sucks sangria through her straw. ‘She’s babysitting our boy. No more nosebleeds, then?’
‘No.’
Monica pushes a sleeping Annie in her buggy away from the table when Alan lights up a cigarette. She leaves my baby a few feet away from us all. Nathan stands and walks over, kneeling in front of her. I watch as he places her foot on his chest and smiles at her. I should warn him that he might wake her, but I don’t want to interrupt the moment. I’ve never seen him like this with a child before.
‘You’re all doe-eyed watching them two,’ Ellen says in my ear. ‘Be careful his wife doesn’t see. I must say, though, he’s a bit of a dish.’
I don’t reply. If she continues whispering in my ear like this, I’m going to move.
Nathan stands. He leaves Annie and walks behind me to get to his chair, ruffling my hair as he passes.
‘Sorry, Debs,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t resist. She’s just the most beautiful baby. She looks just like you.’
The banter between Monica and Alan quietens as Nathan returns to his seat.
Ellen’s voice is in my ear again. ‘Awkward.’
Thank God Bobby and Leo are walking towards us.
‘Can I have a picture, please?’ Bobby says to Monica and Nathan.
Nathan leans towards her, placing a hand on her lap. If you saw that, you’d think them a happy couple. But they’re not. They’ve barely spoken today; they’ve barely spoken all holiday.
They smile their cheese, which fades as the boys leave.
Seconds later, Alan’s leering over Monica.
‘Doesn’t Nathan mind all of that in front of his face?’ Ellen’s lit a cigarette; she takes a long drag. ‘I know I would. But I’m used to it.’ She leans closer again. ‘He gives me a slap sometimes … when I give too much mouth. Does yours do that?’
‘Mine?’ The sangria’s g
one to my head. I look at Peter, and can’t imagine him even thinking of hitting me. I shake my head. ‘No.’
‘You’ve got a good one there, then.’ She takes another drag. ‘Shit. I don’t know why I’m telling you this – I tell no one, not even my family. You’ve got one of those faces, I suppose. The way you’re sitting there like that … it’s like you’re apologising for fucking being alive.’
I didn’t want to engage with her; I didn’t want to talk to her, but I can’t help it.
‘Your husband shouldn’t hurt you, Ellen,’ I say.
‘All the fellas I’ve been with have. Must be me then, mustn’t it?’
My hand reaches over to hers.
‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s not you.’
She bats my hand away.
‘Don’t you start being kind to me. It’ll set me off.’
She dabs the back of her hand on the tears in her eyes. Her blue eyeliner and mascara doesn’t streak. She must know the right make-up to wear.
‘I’m sorry about being off with you at the cocktail bar,’ she says. ‘I’m allowed to be feisty to other people especially when he’s only had a few drinks – and as long as it’s not targeted at him. It’s when he’s had too many that I have to keep my mouth shut.’
Nathan moves his seat next to me; Ellen turns her head to Monica. Alan saunters over to poor Peter at the barbecue.
‘Not drinking the sangria?’ says Nathan. ‘You’ve still got half left.’
‘I’ve had more than enough booze today.’ I smooth the black fabric over my legs.
‘One can never have enough booze, Deborah.’ He downs what red drink is left in his glass, and we sit in silence. I listen in on the women next to me, which isn’t hard: Ellen’s voice is so loud it echoes.
‘How long have you and Nathan been married?’ she shouts.
‘Two years.’ Monica’s voice is quieter.
‘He’s not the boy’s father then?’
‘No. I didn’t marry Leo’s father. I was only nineteen when he was born. It was a fling, but Leo still sees his dad.’
‘Isn’t that modern?’
‘That’s one way of putting it. It was hard being a single parent, but I stayed at university – my mother paid for childcare. After uni, I managed to get a good job to support us both. I got together with Nathan when Leo was three … I met Nathan through Debbie – they went out with each other when they were teenagers. They bumped into each other on the street a few years later, and Debbie gave him my number. I’d met him myself when we were younger, but they spent a lot of time alone … I only got to know him properly all these years later.’
‘I can see that those two used to have a thing,’ says Ellen.
I shift in my seat. They must know I can hear.
‘What makes you say that?’ says Monica.
My face burns. I shouldn’t listen, but I can’t help it.
‘He does seem rather taken with her, doesn’t he?’ Ellen’s voice isn’t as loud; she’s leaning into Monica’s ear.
‘I … I don’t know.’
Thank God Peter is far enough away. I’ve only met Ellen a few times, but she’s poisonous. I turn to Nathan, thinking he won’t have heard a thing, but he’s looking at me, frowning.
‘What’s that silly cow talking about now?’ he whispers. He takes my hand. ‘Come on. Let’s go for a walk, away from that crazy couple.’
‘She’s had a rough time with that shitty husband of hers.’
‘That’s no excuse.’
He pulls me up from the chair; it doesn’t take much effort as my body is willing, betraying me.
‘It’s terrible timing, us going for a walk,’ I say, glancing at Monica.
She’s narrowing her eyes at Ellen. I hope she sees that Ellen’s shit-stirring – trying to deflect from her own awful home life.
‘I’m just taking your wife for a wander,’ Nathan hollers to Peter.
Peter gives a salute with the barbecue tongs. My husband’s such a lovely man.
Nathan tugs at my hand until I follow.
‘We can’t be long,’ I say. ‘The food’ll be ready soon.’
He releases my hand and puts both of his in his pockets. I look at his arms. He’s always tanned quickly – his skin would turn golden in a conservatory, whereas mine would turn pink, like a pig’s.
We walk down the side of the apartment block and out onto the sandy road. Topless men on mopeds whizz past. English tourists, wearing socks and sandals, walk along miserably, laden with carrier bags of food. Probably full of tea bags, baked beans and digestives.
‘I found this gorgeous view the other day,’ says Nathan. ‘I know there are plenty of lovely sights around here, but even though there’s a road right next to it, it feels so peaceful. The sound of the waves drowns out the cars. It has a bench, too – perfectly placed. It’s not far away.’
We walk in silence, going uphill until we reach a bend in the road. There’s an area of dried, yellow grass with a small seating area. Nathan takes my hand and leads me over rocks and stones. About five feet from the bench, there’s a drop, with the blue sea below.
‘Are we on the cliffs?’ I say.
‘Yeah. This one’s called La Gran Caída.’
We sit on the bench. There are cars speeding past on the road behind us, but the sound of them quickly fades in my ears.
‘This is beautiful,’ I say.
‘I thought you’d like it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You must know.’ He’s staring straight ahead at the waves, crashing on whatever’s below – I can’t see from this angle. ‘There was only ever you, Debs.’
‘But … but we’re married. To other people! Nothing can ever happen between us.’
He turns his body to face me, raising a leg and resting it on the seat.
‘You feel the same, then?’ he says. ‘I knew it.’
‘No … I’ve just had a baby. My hormones are all over the place.’
He puts his arm around my shoulders.
‘I can keep you safe. Peter can’t.’
‘Safe from what?’
‘Those letters we’ve been getting. I know who sent them. I’ll stop them.’
‘Who sent them?’
He taps the side of his nose.
‘Don’t you worry about that.’
‘Nathan! Stop being weird. What’s wrong with you?’
He slumps against the back of the bench, as though I’ve winded him.
‘I’m not being weird. I’m looking out for you.’ He turns his gaze back to the ocean. ‘And Monica’s too busy fawning over Peter to bloody notice anything I do.’
I nod slowly. ‘Okay. So that’s what this is really about. You’re feeling neglected by your wife.’
‘If anything, it’s the other way around.’
I look at Nathan: I loved this man once. But he was a boy then – intense, troubled. He could still be like that now.
‘Just talk to her, Nathan. Get everything out in the open. You love each other. Don’t waste it all on some idea you have of me. It’s not even real. If you lived with me for five minutes, you’d go off me.’
‘No, I wouldn’t. Before you had Annie, Peter used to rave about how relaxed you were. Monica’s so caught up with what everyone thinks of her – the dad she never sees, the mother who doesn’t give a shit.’
‘Hang on. Before I had Annie?’
‘I’m not saying you’re a nightmare now,’ says Nathan, smiling, ‘I’m just saying that I haven’t spoken to Peter properly since.’
I lean back against the warm concrete of the seat.
‘What does it all matter, anyway?’ I say.
‘What do you mean?’
I stand. The dress sticks to the back of my legs. I peel it away.
‘See, the only person who loves you is as crazy as you are – you’re making him that way. You might as well do your family a favour and leave them in peace. They’re better off without you – can you see that now?’
‘Oh, shut up,’ I say.
‘What?’
Oh God.
I’m replying to the voice in my head.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ I say. ‘Let’s head back.’
We walk back to the apartments in silence. Only Monica looks up as we get back to the barbecue area. Ellen’s standing next to Peter near the barbecue, twirling her hair with her fingers. If she’s trying to make her husband jealous, it’s not working; Alan’s face is just twelve inches away from Monica’s, whose chair is backed up against a tree.
‘I think you’d better rescue your wife,’ I say to Nathan.
‘She’ll be fine.’
Annie’s still in the buggy. Nathan sits at her feet on the grass.
I tut loudly at him and walk towards Monica.
‘Would you mind taking a look at something for me?’ I shout to her.
She stands straight up, and shimmies sideways against the table to escape.
‘That sounds interesting,’ says Alan. ‘Room for a third?’
I narrow my eyes at him.
‘You stuck-up bitch,’ he says. ‘Who do you think you are?’
Nathan gets up from the grass.
‘What’s your problem? Do you have an issue with women? You can’t talk to Debbie like that.’
He walks towards Alan, his chest puffed.
‘I just did.’
Alan leans over the table.
‘Hey, hey.’ Peter walks towards them, tongs in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. ‘The food shouldn’t be long. How about a bit of music?’
He reaches under the table for his cordless tape recorder (probably got it on special with his discount at Woolies) and puts on ‘Club Tropicana’.
Alan sits back down; Ellen sits in the chair next to him. She strokes the side of his face, but he bats her away.
Monica puts a hand on my wrist, and guides me away from them.
‘What did you want to show me?’
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I was trying to rescue you from that twat.’
‘Thanks, Debs.’ She frowns at Nathan, who’s sitting back on the grass next to the pram, a bottle of beer in his hand. ‘No thanks to you,’ she says to him. ‘He could’ve attacked me for all you care.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ he says. ‘You can handle yourself just fine.’
11 Missed Calls Page 28