Weeks in Naviras

by Wimpress, Chris

  ‘So it was you who closed the house and had it boarded up.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything, Luis. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t be involved in it, I didn’t want to be involved in it. Not without her here. I never expected her to go and die like that, not so soon.’ I stood up, went to put my hand on his but he snatched it from underneath me. Still I kept talking. ‘I would’ve felt like a fake. People would’ve thought I was some kind of gold-digger, befriending an old lady and convincing her to give me her estate! You must understand.’

  He didn’t, that much was obvious in his face. He took the padlock key out from his pocket. ‘I suppose this belongs to you, then.’ He put the key on the bar and walked past me, up the wooden steps. I heard him open the door to the wine cellar, then slam it behind him.

  Slipway

  As I’m walking across what appears to be my old front lawn towards Gavin I can feel my mood lifting, despite myself. It certainly seems to want to lift, my mind wants to forget what I’ve recently seen. The snowy grass is like a cushion under my bare feet. But I deny myself, I capture the memories of the cave beneath me, compartmentalise them. Previous memories have proved unreliable, prone to self-annihilation. Not any more, I tell myself. I’m storing them, in a place just below my throat, where I’d felt the gag reflex in Morgan’s cave.

  Gavin stands up from the rocking chair. ‘It’s very beautiful here,’ he says.

  ‘How did you know this was my house?’

  ‘From the painting inside, in the hallway,’ he says, cocking his head to the front door behind him. There’s Lottie’s portrait of me, just inside the house where it had always hung. I look back at Gavin, notice he’s no longer rejuvenated; his hair’s greyer and the lines around his eyes are back. ‘That’s where I just found myself,,’ he says. ‘After the avalanche.’

  Thank God he remembers, I think. ‘You disappeared, Gavin, when you went to go back into the hotel. Everyone did at the same time, I think, except me.’

  He nods, closing his eyes briefly. ‘It was like being pulled down, but sideways. You told me about that, before.’ His eyelids spring open. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘I watched the snow come, and it buried everything.’ Once again it’s like my tear ducts have been sealed up, the moisture’s trapped behind my eyes. I think about telling Gavin what I’ve seen below the cliffs but then shake my head, pulling my arm away and walking past him, through the open front door into my would-be house. Gavin follows me.

  Much of the living room is familiar; the sofa, the paintings from Portugal, all in their usual places. Lots of things are missing, though, most obviously the TV. It’s been replaced by a large wicker chair. Photos of Bobbie and Sadie, various pictures of James in Parliament with world leaders and dignitaries, they’re all gone. The same rules seem to apply as before; no books, no electronics. I sense Gavin’s standing behind me and I turn to face him. ‘How long have you been here?’

  He looks so confused. ‘Not long, ’ He stops, looks like he’s trying to swallow. ‘I think I sort of blacked out, for a moment? Then I was just here, standing by that door,’ He points at the entrance to the kitchen. ‘I guess this changes a lot,’ he says. ‘I mean, you’ve been in my place, now I’m in yours. Who knew dying would be so interesting.’ He smiles.

  I know I have to tell Gavin about what I’ve seen beneath the cliffs, it’s only fair. I’d want to know, if it were Luis in the same situation. But I can’t tell him straight away, feel I have to build up to it. ‘Gavin, do you think Morgan was a good person?’

  ‘Well, she has many wonderful qualities. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Did you love her?’

  ‘No,’ he says, without seeming to think about it. Obviously a question he’s asked himself many times before. ‘We loved each other when we were young, after that we were just a team, I guess. I supported her, and she was grateful for that. We were friends.’

  ‘Did either of you mind that you no longer loved each other?’

  ‘I think Morgan loved her work more than anything. I admired her for that.’ He’s so calm it seems cruel to break the spell. What I’ve seen can’t be told, I think, it can only be shown. Gavin has to make up his own mind about what it means. Or more accurately perhaps he can help me work it out, because I’m at a loss.

  ‘Come with me, I need to show you.’ I take his hand and guide him back outside into the sunshine, walking with him to the path that runs along the side of the cliff. I feel I should somehow prepare Gavin for what he’s about to see. ‘You won’t want to see it, I’m afraid. It’s not like this place at all, it’s the opposite, the reverse. It’s…’

  I can’t finish my sentence because I’ve just looked down into Naviras Bay, down at the beach bar a hundred metres beneath us. From here it’s a lot easier to see what’s going on. Much of it’s unchanged; the group of people on the sun-deck are still there, as are the family on the beach. But I can see Luis standing at the very end of the terrace, where I’d first sipped that glass of wine he’d brought me. He’s not alone, opposite him’s another man with brown hair. I stare down, trying to confirm it to myself. Yes, the other man leans back and I see his face properly. It’s James.

  Perhaps I should feel elation, relief perhaps. Instead I’m just scared and anxious. James and Luis shouldn’t be talking to each other. I have to stop them.

  I turn to Gavin. ‘Change of plan,’ I say, pointing down. ‘James is down there. I need to speak to him.’

  ‘You’ve not seen him so far?’

  I laugh. ‘Let’s just say we keep missing each other.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Get used to it.’ I turn around and start to walk down the path back towards Naviras, past the fake Eppingham house and down into the village. It’s not possible to run. Indeed trying to walk faster only seems to slow me down, somehow. I don’t look back to see whether or not Gavin’s following me. The snow-strewn path runs along the side of the cliff and before long the wall enclosing Casa Amanhã comes into view on my left. It’s almost sliding past me as I try to make progress, but the air around me – if that’s really what it is – has become like treacle.

  Lottie’s standing at the gates, looking straight at me. She’s old again, her white hair’s not tied in its usual bun; it’s let down, thin straggles resting on her shoulders. I’ve never seen her unkempt like this before. She’s still wearing the same blue dress but it doesn’t fit her properly. It’s not something she’d ever have worn at her age, it ends too short before her knees, making her look undignified.

  ‘Oh, my dear girl, where have you been? I lost you, or you lost me. I was walking behind you in that Parliamentary corridor, next thing I knew I was back in the kitchen!’ She doesn’t seem too upset by any of this.

  ‘Lottie, have you seen James?’

  ‘Yes, he was here, darling, not long ago.’ She holds up her arm, thumbs back into the garden towards Casa Amanhã. ‘He just walked into the restaurant, bold as brass, saying he’d come up from the wine cellar.’ She purses her lips. ‘I tried to explain how you and I had been down there but he wouldn’t let me finish and went off to find you. Rude as ever, darling.’ She flutters her eyelids. I’m not sure she’s noticed that she’s no longer young. ‘I thought I’d wait here in case you came back. And who’s this?’

  I turn around to see Gavin’s caught up with me. ‘Lottie, this Gavin, the First Gentleman of the United States,’ I say, unable to resist smiling to myself. ‘Gavin, this is my.. this is Lottie. I told you about her.’

  ‘Hello, ma’am,’ says Gavin, offering his hand uncertainly. Our situations are reversed, now, he’s the interloper.

  ‘Lottie, listen to me. There’s something horrible underneath Naviras, under the cliffs on the far side of the bay. Whatever happens after this, if we’re separated again or something, promise me you won’t go down there. Please, stay away from the cliffs.’ I start to walk past them, heading for the travessa leading to the beach.

  ‘
Ellie, wait,’ says Gavin behind me. ‘Please can you tell me what’s going on?’

  ‘No,’ I say, not stopping nor turning around. ‘I can’t explain because whatever I tell you, it’ll probably just change. I give up. But I have to warn Luis and James.’

  ‘Well,’ Lottie’s haughty voice behind me, presumably talking to Gavin. ‘I’m going with her. Are you coming?’

  About halfway down the silent and empty travessa I think I hear a woman’s voice speaking and stop to listen, turn around and ask Lottie if she’s said anything, but she shakes her head. The only noise is the faint sound of the waves ahead of me. We cross the square and I see La Roda’s now empty, the old couple from earlier no longer sitting at the veranda.

  We walk along the beach bar path, everything’s just as it had been the moment I stepped out of the water, apart of course from the snow which has formed a crust on top of the sand. The children are still playing, kicking up clouds of white and yellow. It all seems the same to them, I think, as I look beyond them to the white-flecked cliff, remembering what’s underneath it, what’s happening to Gavin’s wife down there.

  I stride up the steps into the beach bar. Gavin asks where we are but there’s no time to explain, I tell him, as I walk through the bar’s interior and then outside again to the sun deck. Luis and James are still sitting at the furthest table, Luis with his back to me. He says something to James, who turns around then practically leaps out of his chair.

  ‘There you are,’ James takes two steps towards me. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you, but Lottie said you went missing from Casa Amanhã.’ He goes to embrace me, but I keep my arms at my sides.

  ‘This is all wrong, James. Everything’s wrong.’

  Luis stands up, too, looking past me. ‘Who’ve you got with you?’ I turn around to see Gavin and Lottie stepping through the patio doors. ‘I know him, he’s the president’s husband.’

  I want to tell Luis and James about what’s underneath the cliff. That’s what I came here to do, after all. Am I worried they won’t believe me? No, more that it seems cruel to break the spell, ruin everyone’s understanding of what this place is, where it goes. But then James already knows, I think. He must do, how else could he have got here?

  Instead I turn to Luis. ‘There’s nothing behind the painting in Room Seven,’ I say. ‘The alcove’s missing. How can there be nothing there?’

  Luis just stares at me. He’s opening his mouth to say something, but I speak first. ‘And the wine cellar, Luis. There’s something else down there. It’s connected to the House of Commons, or something that’s meant to look like it, and under those cliffs..’ I point to the end of the beach as the wind blows my hair into my eyes. ‘This place is horrible. It’s all wrong.’

  It’s good to see James wrong-footed. He can’t speak for a moment. ‘What are you talking about, L?’ He says finally, ‘What does he know that I don’t?’ He’s looking at Luis, now, making no effort to hide his irritation.

  I don’t pause, didn’t think about it for a second, before replying. ‘I fell out of love with you, James. You were never there for me, and you put your career before me, every single time. I hate it, I’ve always hated it.’

  ‘Ellie, stop, please,’ says Luis.

  Above us there’s a cracking sound. James and Luis both turn around, away from me, looking up at the cliffs. I watch as slivers of snowy rock fall away, tumbling down into the sea, turning the water dark. Further down the cliff-face it looks like explosives are being detonated, puffs of dust are spewing from holes up and down the side. The kids on the beach stop playing but they don’t run; they’re just standing, bewildered, as their parents get up from their towels.

  Then about a third of the cliff gives way, a large chunk of it just collapsing into the water, like it’s made from nothing firmer than dust. Water bursts into the air as more sections of cliff slide into the ocean, the spray quickly mixing with more rock. I can feel the sun deck shaking. The waves from the impact reach the shore, inundating the beach. More are heading our way, it’s quite possible the sun deck’s about to be swamped.

  Luis turns around, says we have to go. James turns around, too.

  ‘Go on, say something!’ I’m shouting, but not as loudly as I want to, that’s impossible. ‘What’s the matter with you?

  Still he doesn’t didn’t react. He’d become statuesque, just like Luis. Then both of them vanish, just like Gavin had in Catseye, collapsing in on themselves like they’ve been turned off, somehow. They simply cease to be there. I turn around to find Gavin and Lottie both gone, too. I look around the bar; everyone’s gone, I’m completely alone on the sun deck. It’s deserted inside the bar.

  Then the sun begins to set, rapidly. I watch the shadow of what’s left of the cliff climb up the other side of the bay, the cottages and villas quickly losing their afternoon warmth. The sky warps from blue to orange, then pink, then purple. Yet no stars come out, the moon doesn’t rise. I can hear the water lashing the wall below the sun-deck. Then I look to my left further down the beach, to the slipway.

  Jean and Bill are standing up there, right by the waterline. They’re looking straight at me. The bottom of Jean’s polkadot dress is billowing sideways in the wind. Even though I can’t make out the expression on their faces, I feel their stare. They’re annoyed with me.

  I walk back into through empty beach bar, the lobster pot lampshades swinging in the wind. Slowly I walk down the steps and along the path, making my way in the gathering darkness to the slipway.

  Interregnum

  The day after Luis stormed out of Casa Amanhã I tried to get myself and the kids out of Naviras but there weren’t any flights. All London’s airports had been closed because of the deepening power shortage. I called James to ask for help, he said things would probably improve the following day. ‘We’re making sure the important stuff is working okay first,’ he said. ‘But I don’t know why you’d want to come back so quickly, it’s a mess here. You’re better off where you are.’

  ‘I just want to get back to you,’ I said. He must’ve been surprised, there hadn’t been much in the way of passion between us for a long time. Just infrequent, unmemorable sex. I couldn’t quite believe my own words, either, but overnight something had switched inside my head, even though I’d not slept more than an hour. I’d decided things with Luis were shot to pieces, that I ought to focus instead on salvaging my relationship with James. Not that I wanted to, of course, but I felt desperate and didn’t want to end up with nothing.

  We kept to the hotel the whole of the next day, the kids not minding particularly when I’d refused to take them to the beach, they were happy enough in the rooftop pool. I hadn’t slept much and dozed in the sunshine, trying to blot out the thoughts about Luis. Every now and again I’d stand up and survey the village, just peering over the high wall. I could see everything from the top of the hotel, the tall trees surrounding Casa Amanhã, the beach, La Roda perching over the square. Looking down I was able to trace back almost every significant event from the previous nine years. I stared at the beach bar, trying to make out Luis among the people at the tables. His truck wasn’t parked in its usual place in the square outside La Roda. Probably taken a group scuba-diving up the coast, I thought.

  Late in the afternoon James rang to say limited flights into Heathrow would resume the following morning and that Rav had managed to get the three of us seats. ‘Don’t make too much noise about it,’ James said. ‘Officially everything’s full for a couple of days.’

  I wanted to get out of the village that night, drive to Lisbon and stay in a hotel near the airport. James signalled agreement before hanging up. I mobilised the kids, ignoring their howls of outrage at the sudden curtailment of their holiday.

  ‘We’ll be back soon enough,’ I lied as we packed up in the hotel room, knowing I wouldn’t ever be coming back to Naviras; the village felt like a smashed eggshell, all the goodness drained out. I bundled everything quickly into the boiling car and start
ed the engine, opening all the windows to cool it down. I checked out of the hotel, strapped the kids into the back seats and sped too quickly down the lane heading for the main road, slowing down as we drove through the square but accelerating again after going up the road and passing the crossroads. I didn’t check for traffic because looking to my left would’ve required seeing the wall and gates of Casa Amanhã.

  I thought I’d made it out, but at the edge of the village where the cottages became grassland Luis’s truck came round the corner and braked. He looked at me for three seconds. I looked at him, then at Carolina in the passenger seat, her window wound down. She was smiling at me. There wasn’t room for our cars to cross. Luis reversed ten feet, let me pass him. I kept my eyes fixed on the road and put my foot on the gas too fast, the car kangarooed a bit as it moved forward, its engine hiccupping.

  Carolina waved at Bobby and Sadie, who were both saying goodbye as we passed them. I focused on keeping the wheel steady, blinking furiously to try to shift the watery film that had formed over my eyeballs. After I’d passed Luis’s car and quickly accelerated I wiped my face with one hand. I don’t think the kids noticed my tears from the back seats, they were unusually quiet. Perhaps they sensed my unease, or maybe were feeling out of sorts at being unexpectedly displaced. They must’ve noticed how I was driving too fast around the hairpin bends of the road leading to the motorway, the brown hills and stubbly grassland fields sliding sideways in my vision.

  There were very few cars on the motorway, occasionally I’d overtake a minibus or a jeep but largely the road ahead was empty. I began to ignore the dividing line between the two lanes on my side of the carriageway, allowed the car to meander. For the second time in my life I felt the sensation, the one I’d had on the plane heading down to Portugal for Lottie’s funeral. The sense that I didn’t want to carry on but couldn’t turn back either. It manifested itself physically as a knot in the very centre of my torso, like I’d swallowed a pebble which had got stuck. I released my grip on the steering wheel, my hands hovering just above it. It was edifying, rescinding control of a car travelling so fast. Soon the road will curve around and we’ll plough through the safety barrier, I thought. We’ll go into some ravine or the side of a hill, and that’ll be the end of it.