by Lucy Lord
‘Why did you take such a stupid risk?’ he continued, trying to ignore his whirring thoughts (First time? What the fuck?) and jumbled emotions. ‘You don’t seem drunk, or high. You’re not, are you?’ He grabbed her narrow wrists again and she shook him off.
‘No, I’m not. And I still don’t get what it is to you. Unless . . .’ A self-satisfied edge had crept into her voice. ‘It’s because you want me, isn’t it? You couldn’t stop staring at me the other day, at Nikki Beach, and then at Senequier . . . Do you want me, Lars? Do you want to kiss me?’ She gazed up at him through glittering green eyes, standing up on tiptoe to get closer, her lips slightly parted.
She was teasing him, but the longer she looked into his eyes, the more she felt an intense connection growing – despite her recent encounter in the toilet. Her heart started pounding. For a second or two, Lars gazed back, mesmerized.
‘I met your fiancé, and I liked him a lot,’ he said abruptly, jerking his head away. ‘I don’t like girls who play games with men. Now get out of here, before I change my mind and tell Jack, that director guy, and every goddamn gossip columnist in St Tropez what I’ve just seen.’
Tamara stared at him for around half a minute more, then laughed in his face.
‘Nobody would believe you if you did. But I’m tired now, and think it’s time to hit the sack. Goodnight, Lars. It was nice to bump into you again.’
As she sauntered off into the warm night air, Lars had to admire her chutzpah. He only wished his cock wasn’t pushing so painfully against his jeans.
Chapter 12
The day of the pool-warming party dawned – not unusually, for Ibiza – hot, bright and clear. Bella woke early, as was her wont these days, as excited as she used to feel as a child when it was her birthday, or Christmas. Andy had already risen, presumably to get some writing done before the festivities started, so she put on a pretty, short cotton nightie and went to check on Daisy before making her way downstairs. First things first: breakfast. She had guests to feed.
But once she got to the kitchen she saw that her old friend had beaten her to it.
‘Morning,’ grinned Poppy, as she bustled about the enormous sun-filled room, pouring orange and grapefruit juice out of cartons into jugs, cutting up ripe, highly scented nectarines and brewing delicious-smelling fresh coffee on top of the stove. She actually seemed to be doing all three simultaneously, bless her efficient little heart. ‘Thought I’d give you a break – you’ve got so much on today.’
‘Thanks, Pops, that was thoughtful of you.’ Bella smiled. ‘Oooh and you bought ensaimadas – yum!’ She indicated the basket of delicious icing-sugar-sprinkled sweet pastries that were indigenous to the Balearics.
‘You can thank your husband for that.’
Bella raised her eyebrows.
‘Oh shit, sorry, keep forgetting,’ Poppy continued. ‘But you two are sooo married. Anyway, sod it – let’s leave it for today, yeah? Your lovely other half gave me a lift down to the panaderia in San Carlos. We thought that pastries, fruit and yoghurt would cause less mess and washing up than eggs and stuff. Now you go and get showered, sort Daisy out, and leave this all to me.’
‘Such a bloody bossy boots,’ grumbled Bella, still smiling. Poppy was a godsend.
*
By midday, they’d laid out mis-matched towels in every colour of the rainbow on sunloungers all around the pool, with plenty more stacked up in a neat pile next to the French windows; made jug after jug of fruit-laden red and white sangria, which now filled the fridge almost to bursting point; filled the bath upstairs with ice, cava, wine and beer; put vases of fresh flowers on every available surface; set out rows of glasses on one of the garden tables; filled blue-and-white china bowls with almonds, olives and little cubes of tortilla, plates with jamon Serrano and baskets with bread, all sitting in the cool of the kitchen, covered by tea-towels to protect them from wasps and flies; and last but not least, stocked up the downstairs wet room with large bottles of Aveda shower gel, shampoo and conditioner – nice for guests to be able to wash away the chlorine with delicious-smelling unguents if they fancied it. All that still needed doing was the paella, but nobody was arriving until at least two o’clock, and they didn’t want to make paella too far in advance and risk ruining the seafood.
Bella and Poppy, who had been working in the kitchen, were wearing cotton sundresses over their bikinis; Andy and Damian, who had been sorting things out around the pool, were in their swimming trunks; Daisy, sitting in her high chair where Bella could keep an eye on her, sported her best daisy-embroidered frock. Occasionally she commented on the adults’ progress with words that were known only to her.
‘Hellloooo?’ called a friendly voice. ‘Anybody home?’
‘Hey, Summer, come in!’ Bella shouted from the kitchen. ‘The door’s open.’
Summer, looking lovely in a halter-neck indigo maxidress, walked into the kitchen carrying an enormous basket filled with fresh seafood.
‘Oh, you are an absolute angel,’ cried Bella, rushing over to give her a hug and a kiss. ‘Thank you so much for doing this – it’s saved me so much work!’
‘Hey – no biggie,’ smiled Summer. ‘It would have been stupid for you to drive all the way into Eivissa to pick up the fish when I live on the market’s doorstep. Hi,’ she added to Poppy, holding out a friendly hand. ‘I’m Summer.’
‘Hi, Summer, I’m Poppy.’ Poppy smiled, but she was wary. She didn’t want anyone taking advantage of Bella, and everything she’d told her about Summer sounded a bit too good to be true.
‘Hi, Poppy, great to meet you. Hey, Daisy darling!’ Summer went to pick Daisy up out of her chair and give her a hug and lots of kisses. Daisy grinned and giggled – she loved Summer.
‘How are you getting on?’ Summer asked Bella. ‘It looks like you have everything under control.’
‘We do. Come and see what you think of the garden.’
‘I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Daisy,’ said Poppy, plopping several ice cubes into her first gin and tonic of the day.
*
‘It is even more beautiful than I remember from the old days,’ said Gabriella, sipping from a glass of cava as Bella gave her a tour of the garden. She stopped by a large rosemary bush to rub the pungent needles between her fingers, sniffing the heady aroma. ‘You have worked wonders.’
‘Thanks.’ Bella shifted Daisy onto her left hip. Soon it would be time for her daughter’s afternoon nap, thank God. She was never any trouble, but Bella was looking forward to relaxing with her guests for a bit.
‘You don’t mind that I brought Shane?’ added Gabriella, who was wearing a floppy wide-brimmed hat, elegant palazzo pants and a loose linen shirt over a strapless one-piece swimsuit – all in white. ‘He’s a good man – and a good contact to have on this island, owning all those bars.’
‘Not in the least,’ smiled Bella. ‘I did ask you to bring a guest – and Shane seems fab.’ They both looked over to where Shane was chatting with Andy and Damian, the three men bonding, by the look of it. Only a handful of guests had arrived so far, and nobody was swimming yet, but it was already quite clear that the party was going to be a success.
‘I hear India and Jamie are coming too,’ said Gabriella, with a slight tinge of disapproval in her voice.
Bella shrugged. ‘She dropped so many hints that in the end it was easier to give in. Can’t see what harm it can do.’
Gabriella frowned. ‘You don’t know Jamie Cavendish. He is a truly horrible man. Beware of him – that is all I say.’
*
‘So you must come to Aqua – dinner on the house?’ Shane was saying to Andy. ‘It’s the least I can do to thank you for your hospitality.’ Like Gabriella, he was dressed in white, in his usual uniform of linen shirt over immaculate jeans, with a sailor’s cap protecting his shaved head from the sun.
‘Thanks – that would be great. Slightly premature to thank us for the hospitality, though – we haven’t even eaten yet!’
‘She’s not my wife, but yeah – Bella’s a bloody good cook. It should be fantastic.’
‘Hi, Andy,’ said Poppy, walking towards them out of the French windows, now clad only in a tiny yellow bikini that showcased her tiny brown body to perfection. ‘Do you think we can christen the pool yet, or does Belles want to do some kind of “I declare this pool well and truly open” thing?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so. In fact I’m positive – she wants everything to be laid-back and fun and casual. Have you met Shane, by the way?’
Poppy shook her golden head.
‘Shane, this is Poppy, Damian’s wife – the annoyingly handsome dark-haired guy we were chatting to earlier? – and Bella’s oldest friend. Poppy, this is Shane – owner of one of the coolest new restaurants in Ibiza, by all accounts.’
Poppy was looking at Shane with a huge grin on her face.
‘You’re Shane Connelly, aren’t you? Bonza, mate!’ She held up her hand, and Shane high-fived her, grinning back. ‘I used to have a massive crush on you when I was at school!’
‘Thanks,’ said Shane. ‘But ouch. Anyway, I know who you are too. Poppy Wallace, right? Poppy Takes Manhattan?’ Gay men always loved her shows.
‘That’s right,’ said Poppy, trying not to look or sound too pleased. After hanging out with Ben, Jack and Tamara for so long, it was nice to have a bit of bloody recognition for once.
*
‘Muchas gracias,’ said Ben, taking some euro notes out of his wallet to pay the cab driver.
‘Thanks, buddy. I’ll get it on the way back,’ said Jack.
As soon as they got out of the air-conditioned taxi at the end of the white dirt track that led to the ancient finca, the heat hit them afresh.
‘Pouf, it’s hot,’ said Natalia, fanning her face with an elegant hand.
‘I know. Can’t wait for a swim,’ said Ben. ‘Sounds like the party’s in full swing already.’ Finding the heavy old wooden front door ajar, they went into the house – Bella had invited them for dinner a couple of nights before, so they were familiar with its layout. Ben and Natalia were making to turn right, towards the garden, when Jack tapped Ben on the arm.
‘These need chilling.’ He held up the plastic carrier bag containing three bottles of very good, unflashy vintage champagne. ‘I’ll take them to the fridge. See you out there.’
He turned left and made his way into the kitchen, which smelt deliciously of garlic and seafood. A tall, slim girl with long blonde hair was standing with her back to him, stirring something on the stove. She looked over her shoulder at him, and he saw her eyes widen in recognition. He was used to this, and hoped she wouldn’t start to gush.
‘Hi,’ she said, smiling and wiping her hands on the apron she was wearing over a long, dark-blue dress. ‘I’m Summer. If you’re looking for Bella, she’s upstairs putting Daisy to bed for her afternoon nap.’
‘I wasn’t actually looking for Bella, just somewhere to chill these?’ He held up the carrier bag. ‘I’m Jack, by the way.’
‘No kidding,’ laughed Summer, her clear dark-blue eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners, perfect white teeth gleaming in her smooth brown face. Jack’s heart seemed to stop in his chest. She was absolutely beautiful. ‘Nice to meet you, Jack.’
She held out a lovely, long-fingered hand, and Jack shook it. When their fingers touched, his heart started beating again. But soon she had turned away from him and was opening the fridge.
‘Not much room in here, I’m afraid,’ she said in that sweet, slightly sing-song voice. ‘But if you take this,’ she handed him a jug of white sangria. ‘We can probably shove them in.’ Jack passed her the bottles, one by one, and watched as she made room in the overcrowded fridge to slide them in on top of one another. Her back was bare, brown and smooth underneath the silky sheet of flaxen hair.
‘So – would you like some?’ Summer nodded towards the jug.
‘Uh – yeah. Yep. Great. Thanks.’
Oh great, great, Jack, impress her with your eloquence, why don’t you?
‘Glasses are outside. I have to finish the paellas, but I’ll join you out there later. Good to meet you, Jack.’ She smiled again and Jack couldn’t help but smile back.
‘Good to meet you too, Summer.’
*
‘Hi, India, so glad you could make it,’ lied Bella. ‘And you must be Jamie. Where’s Milo?’ She had fully expected them to bring their son with them and had made provision, food-wise too. Children, even groovy Balearic-bred ones, tended not to be huge paella fans.
‘We thought it would be better to leave him with the nanny today,’ said India, who was looking gaunt and fragile in her oversized Gucci shades and kaftan. ‘He was playing up a bit this morning.’
‘And we didn’t want the little sod spoiling our fun,’ said Jamie, sniggering nastily at his own joke. His eyes narrowed when he realized neither Bella nor India were laughing with him. ‘So you’re the famously well-connected Bella, eh?’
‘Hardly,’ said Bella, embarrassed. ‘Anyway, what can I get you? Beer, wine, cava, sangria?’
‘Oh, a glass of sangria would be great, thanks,’ said India.
‘I’ll have a beer.’
‘There’s some sangria on the table over there, India. I’ll nip upstairs to get you a beer, Jamie. The rest of the drinks are on ice in the bath, so help yourself when you want another one.’
‘How very student-chic,’ sneered Jamie.
Bella popped into the kitchen on her way upstairs to see how Summer was getting on.
‘How’s it going? Sorry to abandon you like this, but everyone’s arrived at once. I’ve just had the pleasure of meeting Jamie Cavendish.’
Summer laughed. ‘Charmer, isn’t he? Well, these are about ready to go.’ She nodded at the four big paellas steaming away on the hob. ‘So is everybody here?’
‘Everyone except Jorge and Henri.’
‘Oh, no need to wait for them,’ said Summer dismissively. ‘Jorge’s always late.’
‘OK, I’ll start sending people in with their plates as soon as I’ve fetched the delightful Mr Cavendish his beer.’
Summer laughed again. ‘By the way,’ she added casually, ‘Jack Meadows seems nice.’
‘Even more gorgeous in the flesh, isn’t he? Lucky Tamara, that’s all I can say.’
‘Lucky Tamara,’ repeated Summer.
*
‘This is great,’ said Gabriella, taking a mouthful of paella and looking around the exquisite garden, the party in full swing now. Bella smiled happily. Mid-afternoon, her pool-warming was exactly as she had envisaged it. The sun was high in the dark-blue sky, casting a fierce light on the brightly coloured beauty of the garden. Every colour, every sense seemed heightened, from the vivid turquoise of the pool to the deliciously garlicky, lemony, sweet salinity of the paella.
Bella was sitting on a bright pink towel on a sunlounger, with Gabriella lounging gracefully on a pristine white lounger opposite her. Poppy was splashing about in the pool with Shane, who seemed to have taken a huge shine to her, both of them showing off as they did handstands and swallow dives, challenging one another to races.
Ben, Natalia and Jack were larking about in Bella’s folly with the waiters from Anita’s, who couldn’t believe they were at a party with Jack Meadows and Ben Jones; Jorge and Jamie were engaged in deep conversation outside Andy’s study; Andy was sitting with most of the others at a large table on the other side of the pool. He looked over at Bella and smiled broadly.
‘It’s perfect!’ he mouthed, giving her a double thumbs-up. She smiled happily back at him.
Bella and Poppy had had lots of fun the night before compiling a playlist of late Sixties and early Seventies music to be played today, in homage to the finca’s previous incarnation – everything from the Small Faces’ ‘Itchycoo Park’, to the Kinks’ ‘Sunny Afternoon’, the Bea
tles (of course) singing ‘Here Comes The Sun’, and – now – Carly Simon’s ‘You’re So Vain’.
‘My God, this takes me back,’ said Gabriella. ‘I’m sure I used to sing this to your father, Bella.’
Bella laughed, shrugging. ‘Sounds about right.’
‘You’ve brought this house to life again,’ Gabriella added. ‘This is like old days – well, apart from the sex and drugs of course.’
‘Thanks, Gaby. Is it OK if I call you that?’
‘Of course,’ smiled the older woman graciously.
‘God, it’s hot today – not that I’m complaining. But I’m going to need a dip very soon . . .’ As she was saying it, the unmistakable sound of Daisy’s little voice, chattering away incomprehensibly, came floating down over the late afternoon air. She laughed. ‘Should have known it was too good to be true. Daisy’s waking up.’
Summer, helpful as ever, started to carry plates to the kitchen. Within less than a minute, Jack Meadows had appeared at her elbow.
‘Hey, you’ve been working hard all day,’ he said. ‘Let me do that.’
‘It’s OK, I’m happy to do it,’ Summer said automatically. Then she looked at him and reconsidered. ‘Though it’s nice to have a helping hand. We can do it together.’
‘That paella was fantastic, by the way,’ said Jack. ‘You’re an amazing cook.’
‘Thanks. It’s my passion.’
Between them, they ferried all the dirty plates back to the kitchen.
‘What a wonderful young man,’ said Gabriella. ‘So polite, so handsome.’
‘Yup, he’s gorgeous all right,’ agreed Bella. ‘OK, I can’t wait another second!’ And she set off towards the pool steps.
The kitchen seemed suddenly cool and dark after the intense heat and light of the garden.
‘Thanks so much for doing this,’ said Summer, as she scraped the plates into the bin. ‘It’s not the sort of thing you’d expect from a famous movie star.’