by Lucy Lord
‘Hello, darling.’ Oh shit, Andy was so bloody touchy about Jorge. Bella, feeling a prickle of guilt about her previous, harmless fantasies, hoped he wasn’t going to make a scene.
‘Have you finished?’ Andy demanded, completely ignoring the younger man. ‘If so, can we get going? I need to get on.’ He gestured to a waiter for the bill, which he paid, then practically frogmarched Bella and Daisy out of the bar. Bella gave Jorge an apologetic look over her shoulder, which he acknowledged with a smiling shrug.
Once they were all safely ensconced in the jeep, Andy turned on Bella. ‘Looks like I interrupted something.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You were almost snogging him!’
‘I wasn’t!’ Bella was indignant. ‘If you must know, I was congratulating him.’
‘On what? A particularly lucrative deal?’ said Andy sarcastically.
‘Oh, stop being like this! He was telling me he might be getting his own TV chat show, thanks to his new girlfriend Paloma . . .’
Andy gave a hollow laugh. ‘Yeah, right, as if any TV network would touch him with a bargepole. Ibiza’s most prolific drug dealer? His background would be public knowledge within weeks!’
‘Actually that probably wouldn’t be such a bad thing,’ mused Bella. ‘There are loads of – oh, I don’t know . . . rappers! – who’ve come clean about their drug-dealing pasts, and the fact that he’s a reformed dealer might even work in his favour. His colourful past might give the show a bit more depth.’
‘DEPTH? Reformed? Now you really are taking the piss!’
‘He is, though! He was telling me that he’s going to give up deal—’
Andy interrupted her. ‘And you fell for that?! Bella, you are the most ridiculous, gullible—’
Bella felt the anger bubbling up inside her.
‘Can you stop being so fucking patronizing?’
‘Can you not swear in front of our daughter?’
Feeling her fists balling, Bella took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself.
‘Why do you refuse to believe anything good about him?’
‘Because he’s amoral scum – and you’re so bloody besotted with him, you can’t see what should be obvious to anybody with half a brain.’
‘Can you please not swear in front of our daughter? And how bloody DARE you?’
The row continued for the whole journey home, and by the time they reached the finca Daisy was bawling her eyes out, hating the sound of her parents shouting at each other.
‘Now look what you’ve done!’ said Bella angrily, scooping Daisy out of her car seat and showering her little face with kisses. ‘Shh, shh, it’s OK, darling, Mummy’s here now. Sshh shhh shhh.’
Andy stared at them both.
‘Look what I’ve done? I don’t believe this. I’m going out for a bit. And I’ve no idea what time I’ll be home.’
With that he got back into the jeep and sped off down the driveway with not so much as a backwards glance.
Bella, standing at the gate with her sobbing daughter in her arms, began crying too, quietly at first, but soon it turned into full-on wailing, almost as though she and Daisy were trying to out-wail each other. Once she realized the ridiculousness of the situation, she started to laugh through her tears, and Daisy, influenced by her mother’s mood, giggled too.
‘Come on, darling, let’s take this stuff inside.’ Bella kissed the top of Daisy’s silky head. ‘Daddy’ll come to his senses soon enough.’
‘Toon nuff.’ Daisy smiled up through her long, wet eyelashes.
*
‘. . . so you’ve no idea where he’s gone?’ asked Poppy at the other end of the phone.
Bella was pacing around the pool, Daisy half-crawling, half-toddling about at her feet – they’d have to sort out some kind of pool guard soon, now that Daisy was so mobile. Several hours had passed since Andy had stormed off, and she was starting to feel worried. It was most unlike him to behave so irrationally.
‘None whatsoever, and he’s switched his phone off. Talk about a bloody overreaction – how am I meant to avoid Jorge altogether? He’s our neighbour, for God’s sake!’
‘Sounds like the good old-fashioned green-eyed monster. Oh, I’m sure he’s worked himself up into a state of high moral dudgeon, convincing himself that he doesn’t like Jorge because he’s a dealer, but I bet there’s a healthy dollop of jealousy there too. Come on, be honest, Belles, he does flirt with you, doesn’t he?’
‘Oh all right. Yeah, he does. But it’s perfectly harmless, and anyway, it’s the first time anybody’s flirted with me for as long as I can remember.’
‘Hmmm. Well, if I were you I’d carry on as normal – get Daisy’s supper ready, put her to bed. He’ll come home soon enough.’
‘I know, it’s just – I hate to think of him all on his own somewhere, festering with resentment . . . oh, sorry, Pops, hang on a sec . . . Daisy, stop that!’ The little girl was grinning as she licked on a leaf she’d picked from the beautiful pink-flowering bush that grew next to Bella’s largest orange tree. She had no idea what it was, but the flowers were gorgeous.
Daisy’s happy expression changed to one of revulsion, her round face screwed up in an impressive display of negative emotion, and Bella knelt down to prise the leaf out of her plump hand. ‘Come on, darling, give that to Mummy . . .’ She turned back to the phone. ‘Listen, Pops, I’d better go. Time’s marching on and Daisy’s obviously starving! Thanks for listening to me rant on.’
‘You know you can always rant away at me.’ Poppy laughed. ‘Let me know how it all goes – I’m sure it’ll work itself out.’
‘I hope so. Bye! Love you!’
‘Love you too.’
Bella smiled as she hung up. Talking to Poppy always made her feel better.
‘Come on, darling, let’s go and have supper.’
Bella knelt down to pick Daisy up, noticing, as she did so, how pink her daughter’s cheeks were, how glassily shiny her enormous brown eyes. Panicking slightly, she put her hand against one of her soft little cheeks, and felt it burning.
‘Oh, my dearest angel, I’m so sorry. I should have looked after you better today,’ she said, trying to stay calm as she carried her into the house. ‘It’s just a bit too much sun, isn’t it? We’ll have some food, and some milk, and you’ll be right as rain in no time.’
But Daisy wasn’t right as rain. In fact, she rapidly got worse and worse, her little body burning up in her mother’s arms. When she spontaneously vomited all over Bella’s chest, it became clear that the natural maternal abilities, on which she’d hitherto relied, were not going to cut it this time.
She picked up her phone, and dialled the number of the only doctor in San Carlos, with whom they’d registered when they first moved in, but got a recorded message. Of course, the surgery was closed between one and six. She tried Andy again, without much hope, and swore in exasperation when it went straight to voicemail. She tried the local taxi firm, but at this time of year it was always busy.
‘Shhh, shhh, my darling, it’s going to be OK, I promise.’ Her voice faltered and she blinked back the tears, trying to be strong for her little girl as she cuddled her. She felt totally impotent, trapped in her beautiful home, with no car in which to take Daisy to a doctor, and nobody answering their fucking phones. ‘You’re going to be OK, I promise, I promise.’
‘Tummy hurt, Mummy,’ said Daisy, very quietly, heavy lids drooping over her eyes.
Oh God, what was wrong with her? Could it be – she could hardly bear to let the thought into her mind – meningitis? Was that leaf she’d licked poisonous? She’d go back and have another look at the bush with the beautiful pink flowers, but she didn’t want to leave Daisy alone again for a single second.
In desperation, she picked up her phone with her left hand and pressed the screen.
‘Hey, Bella,’ Summer answered.
‘Oh, Summer, I’m sorry to call you like this, but I don’t know who else to turn to . .
.’
‘Shit, is everything OK?’
‘No, it’s not . . . it’s . . .’ Bella, almost incoherent with fear, could hardly get the words out. ‘It’s Daisy. She’s not well, and I can’t get hold of the doctor, and Andy’s stormed off with the car, and he’s not answering his phone, and . . . and . . . I’m really scared it might be something serious. Could you please give me a lift to the hospital in Santa Eulalia?’
‘I’m on my way.’
*
Summer was better than her word. As she started up her Fiat, she dialled Dr Rosado’s mobile – he was a family friend and had adored her ever since he’d delivered her into the world, twenty-five years ago. She woke him from his siesta, and as soon as he heard her story, he asked for Bella’s address and told Summer he’d see her at the finca.
He got there first and banged loudly at the heavy wooden door.
Bella, who’d had a call from Summer telling her the doctor was on his way, opened the door with relief.
‘Oh thank God you’re here. I don’t know what to do . . . she’s getting worse, I think . . . Please, please tell me she’s going to be OK? Please, Dr Rosado?’
‘Let me examine her first. It’s probably nothing worse than a mild infection,’ said the doctor reassuringly, but the look on his face changed when he saw the little girl, who was now bright red all over, her little body writhing about on the sofa, eyes screwed up in discomfort as she scratched ineffectually at her face.
‘Mummy, it hurt.’
He examined her gently for a few minutes, stroking her hair back from her damp little brow, then turned to Bella. ‘It may be an allergic reaction. Has she eaten or drunk anything different today?’
‘Boiled egg, toast and fruit for breakfast, spaghetti Bolognese for lunch, milk, juice . . .’ said Bella automatically, and idiotically. ‘Oh God, sorry, I’m not thinking straight. She licked a leaf, earlier, from a flower bush in the garden. But it was only a couple of seconds before I took it out of her mouth.’
‘Can you show me this bush?’
‘I . . .’ Bella looked over at Daisy.
‘It’s OK,’ said the doctor impatiently. ‘She will be fine for a minute or two. It’s more important that I identify this leaf, so I know how to treat her.’
‘Follow me.’ Bella ran outside, all the way around the pool, the doctor hot on her heels. He stopped as he saw the luscious flower bush, with its shiny dark leaves and beautiful pink blooms.
‘What is it?’ Bella asked, panicking again.
Dr Rosado turned to her, his eyes serious. ‘La adelfa. In English, you call it, I think, oleander.’
‘Oleander.’ Bella was happy with the name – it had a comforting, familiar ring to it. ‘So it’s not poisonous?’
‘No, you misunderstand me. La adelfa is one of the most poisonous plants in the world.’ He started running back to the house.
‘What? How poisonous? Not properly poisonous? Not from just licking a leaf?’ Her voice was increasing in both speed and volume as she ran alongside the doctor. ‘Please tell me it’s not possible? Surely people would know about it? Why is such an evil thing growing in my garden anyway?’
‘First I must give her a simple emetic,’ said the doctor, not answering any of her questions directly. ‘It’s important to remove all the poison from her body.’
‘She’s already been sick a couple of times.’ The hope in Bella’s voice touched the kind doctor’s heart. ‘That has to be good, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?’
‘That is good.’ He gave her a brief smile. ‘I will attempt to make her sick some more, and give her something to relieve the discomfort.’
‘And then?’
‘And then we must take her straight to the hospital.’
*
Jorge, driving his BMW back down the motorway from Santa Eulalia, was trying to decide what to do for the best. He had seen Andy sitting morosely in the corner of the bar in which he’d been having a meeting with one of Paloma’s contacts. After the scene he’d witnessed at Anita’s, he guessed that he and Bella had had a row and that Andy had subsequently stormed off. Why else would such a strait-laced, upstanding sort of guy have been downing whisky after whisky in a bar on his own in the middle of the afternoon?
Jorge had a sneaking suspicion that he had been the reason for the row, and it was this that gave rise to his dilemma. Ever since his epiphany on seeing Summer standing on the cliff-edge, he had become mildly obsessed with the idea of ‘doing the right thing’. If his instincts were correct and Andy had stormed out because of a row, Bella would no doubt be out of her mind with worry by now. Lunch at Anita’s had been hours ago.
He sighed. Most probably, he shouldn’t get involved. Why interfere in other people’s problems? But then again, he genuinely liked Bella and didn’t want to think of her unhappy.
He put his phone on speaker and pressed the screen.
‘What is it?’ Bella sounded even more distracted and distraught than he’d anticipated.
‘Uh, I just saw Andy in Santa Eulalia. I thought maybe you would like to know—’
‘Oh thank you thank you thank you. Oh, thank God. Please, Jorge, can you go and get him? Daisy’s sick – maybe very sick – and we’re taking her to the hospital now.’
‘Madre de dio, no.’ Jorge slammed his hand on the steering wheel. He adored that little girl. ‘But – she will be OK, yes?’
‘We don’t know yet,’ said Bella, with a sob in her voice. ‘Dr Rosado has done all he can, but – she’s been poisoned, and it’s all my fault . . .’
*
Andy was starting to regret his anger and stubbornness as he looked morosely across the quiet bar’s terrace at the happy families on the beach below. Any one of those happy families could have been him and Bella, with Daisy. He needn’t have stormed off like that, he supposed; the large volume of neat whisky in his bloodstream was making him question, to an extent, hitherto strongly held beliefs.
Drug dealers were bad guys, right? After Bella had told him what Summer had told her about Jorge’s past (and present), Andy had been slightly ashamed of the relief he’d felt. Vindication! At long bloody last, Bella would stop looking at the runty little low-life with such stupid affection.
But it hadn’t worked out that way. Bella and Poppy had led such bohemian lives, compared to his own relatively conventional one, that they didn’t automatically think of dealers as the scum of the earth; they’d met enough of them over the years to consider them as – well, not friends, exactly, but certainly individuals with their own personalities, and not just an amorphous group of amoral parasites.
The bastard had homed in on Bella, sensing her insecurity about her appearance after giving birth. Andy couldn’t believe she’d fallen for it; surely he gave her enough compliments for her not to need the extra ego-boost afforded by Jorge’s slimy flattery? It was absolutely infuriating. He loved her and Daisy so much, their life at Ca’n Pedro couldn’t be any more perfect – why had they let such a stupid, petty thing get in the way?
He wished he was back at the finca now, but he’d drunk too much to be able to drive home, and it would be hellish getting hold of a taxi at this time of day. He was trying to get a handle on his jumbled thoughts, when who should appear in the bar but the very cause of all the friction.
‘Jorge?’ Was he so drunk that he was hallucinating, imagining his nemesis was standing in front of him? ‘What are you doing here?’
‘It’s Daisy – she is sick. Very sick.’
‘What? Daisy? My daughter Daisy?’ Andy jumped to his feet, stumbling slightly. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘She ate something poisonous from the garden, she—’
The words weren’t making sense.
‘Is she OK? For Christ’s sake, man, tell me she’s OK.’
‘I don’t know. The doctor is with her, but he thinks it could be bad.’ All the blood drained from Andy’s face, and Jorge put a steadying hand on his arm. ‘They have taken her to the hospital.
We must go now.’
‘We?’
‘I will take you in my car – much quicker than taxi.’ Jorge tactfully didn’t allude to the fact that Andy was in no fit state to drive himself.
‘Thank you, Jorge.’ Andy swallowed. ‘I’ll call Bella en route.’
*
The traffic was murder. Both men were sweating, from the heat and with anxiety. Andy, craning his neck out of the window, his fingers drumming impatiently against the dashboard, suddenly shouted, ‘What’s the fucking hold-up?’
Jorge looked at the road ahead and made a snap decision.
‘OK, we go a different route.’ He revved the Beemer’s engine and made a dramatic, and totally illegal, U-turn. ‘I have a better way. Local knowledge.’
The U-turn was so illegal that soon a police car was chasing them, siren blazing, but it was a much clearer road to the hospital. Jorge put his foot down.
‘Do not worry about them,’ he said to Andy, nodding at the rear-view mirror. ‘I will deal with them. The most important thing is we get you there as fast as we can.’
Andy, looking over his shoulder at the police car gathering speed behind them, said, ‘Thanks again, Jorge – especially after I was so rude to you earlier.’
‘Ah, es no importante. I love Daisy. She is a beautiful little girl, and her father should be with her right now. Vamos.’
He shifted up a gear. As they hurtled around the corner, the hospital loomed up in front of them. Jorge screeched to a halt immediately outside, and Andy, looking back again at the police car screeching to a halt behind them, hesitated.
‘I said I’d deal with them,’ said Jorge, pushing Andy out of the car. ‘Just go!’
*
Bella sat holding Daisy’s hot little hand, her eyes never leaving her flushed face. Having handed her over to the hospital staff, Dr Rosado had had to return to his own practice in San Carlos, but he had told Bella to call him if she needed him. Daisy was unconscious now, on an intravenous drip and wired up to a contraption that would apparently alert the skilled team on the emergency ward to any changes in her condition.
In the meantime, all they could do was wait.