‘Clichéd,’ I said.
‘But what if it’s true?’ she asked. ‘What if your friend and that man fall in love, and she moves into her grandmother’s house? Then it’s life. And the ripples of the past echo to the present and beyond, Juno.’
I didn’t say anything but chivvied her along to the terrace for lunch, where we had salads along with a glass of wine each. Then Mum retrieved Ulysses from the room and found a shady place beneath one of the wide awnings to read, while I braved the heated pool for a swim. I emerged glowing and refreshed and then went upstairs and had a shower. I didn’t bother drying my hair – it was longer than in the summer but still not long enough to worry about – and got dressed in a comfortable striped cotton dress that I’d bought in the sales when I’d returned home.
I felt good again. And happy again. And pleased that I’d come here with Mum, even if I’d been dubious at the start. I was glad I’d gone to the Villa Naranja too, glad that it had looked so lovely, and glad that Ophelia was still around.
The feelings of unfinished business I’d had when I’d left for Dublin were gone. Beniflor had moved on. So had the people. So had I.
I’d intended to show Mum Max’s text when I came downstairs, but she was asleep in the shade of the awning and I didn’t want to disturb her. She’d obviously dozed off while reading, because Ulysses had fallen from her hand and was upturned on the ground. I picked it up and replaced it on the table in front of her. Her bookmark had fallen out and, as I picked that up too, I hoped she’d have some idea of where she’d been in the novel. I glanced at the bookmark as I placed it within the pages, and caught my breath.
It was a customised bookmark with individual headshots of me, Gonne and Butler on one side. On the other was a quote from Frederick Douglass. It said: ‘It is easier to raise strong children than to repair broken men.’
Was that what Mum had wanted for her children? For us to be strong? And had she succeeded? I thought of all of us. All doing what we wanted to do. Butler, an acclaimed poet, who’d finally had the opportunity to marry the man he’d shared his life with for so long. Gonne, who combined her love of music with her talent as a mother. And me, the practical one, back doing the job I’d always wanted to do after picking up the pieces of my personal tragedy. The one who everyone else did indeed think was strong. I’d doubted my own strength for a long time but now I knew it was still there. Just as she’d raised me. Just like her. Just like Dad. Just like my brother and my sister.
I left her to her snooze and went for a walk around the gardens. They were more extensive than I originally thought, with the more cultivated areas eventually leading to a small forest of pine trees.
It was very quiet. Very still.
Until my phone beeped and, in taking it out of my pocket, I tripped over a sprawling root and landed on my behind while the phone itself skittered across the fallen pine leaves on the track I’d been following. I lay there for a moment, winded and shocked. When I eventually tried to get up, I yelped in pain. My ankle was already swelling up and was really hurting.
‘Bugger,’ I muttered as I ran my fingers over the joints, which felt tender. ‘Bugger.’
I pulled myself into a sitting position at the base of the tree and made myself breathe slowly and evenly. My heartbeat returned to normal and, even though my ankle was throbbing furiously, I’d already recovered from the shock. I felt it again. The swelling was bigger. If a patient had presented at the hospital with an ankle as swollen as mine, he or she would have been immediately referred to radiology for an X-ray to see if it was fractured. I doubted mine was. Yes, I’d jolted it when I caught it in the tree root, but the fall hadn’t been that bad. Nevertheless, without an X-ray I couldn’t be certain. Many ankle fractures can be quite minor, especially when the bone actually stays in place. Usually, in that case, a doctor will recommend a high ankle shoe, or sometimes a short cast, while it heals.
I suddenly laughed at myself. They say that doctors and nurses make the worst patients, but radiographers are just as bad. We always go for the doomsday scenario.
My phone beeped again, reminding me that I hadn’t picked up the text from a couple of minutes earlier. I edged my way over to it. I assumed Mum had woken up and had texted me to find out where I’d got to. I was running through the excuses I could give her for having been so stupid as to trip, when I actually looked at the message.
How about today for that coffee? Max
Max. I’d nearly, possibly, probably broken my ankle because of Max Hollander! Asking me for coffee when he already knew I was in Spain and so couldn’t meet him, anyway. Honestly, I thought, how inconsiderate could one man be?
I told you. Am away, I texted in return. So can’t make coffee.
I’m away too. The response came quickly. You recommended a mini-break, remember?
Away where? I typed.
In Spain.
What???
I couldn’t wait for coffee. Thought maybe we could have it here.
Where are you? My fingers flew over the keypad.
La Higuera.
I stared at the screen. Max Hollander was here. He’d come here. To La Higuera. But he knew I was here with Mum. So why . . .?
Why are you here?
I told you. For coffee. You said you were buying.
Maybe the fall had slowed my brain. I hadn’t quite got my head around what he was saying.
You’re in La Higuera now? I texted.
Yes. On the terrace. Looking out over garden. Are you here?
Yes.
Where? I can see three people on sunloungers and an older woman asleep in a chair. But not you.
The older woman is my mum.
I didn’t recognise her, he texted. She has a sun visor over her face.
She always protects her face.
So . . . am I standing here like a complete idiot or will you meet me for coffee?
I can’t.
Why?
I was composing my reply when another message from him arrived.
Have I made a tit of it? he asked. Coming here? Was it a massive mistake? It seemed like such a great idea yesterday. Meet again in a place where we seemed to get on so well. Apologise again for my grumpiness. And for being a bit overbearing too. Sometimes ideas aren’t as good in practice as they are when you think about them. I’m an idiot. Certainly every time I think of you.
I read this message three times.
I can’t meet you, I typed. I can’t walk at the moment.
What?
Went for a stroll in the garden. Tripped and crocked my ankle.
Where?
In the little forest.
The pine trees at the end of the garden? Not some other pine trees miles away?
Yes.
On the way.
I stayed where I was, sitting against the tree, nursing my ankle. Five minutes later, I heard footsteps on the trail I’d been following. And then Max Hollander appeared.
He was wearing jeans and a polo shirt; a pair of aviator sunglasses pushed on to his head. He stopped when he saw me.
‘Juno! Are you badly hurt?’
‘My pride certainly is,’ I said. ‘My ankle aches but I’m pretty sure it’s just badly sprained.’
‘Ice,’ he said.
‘I know. But there isn’t much here.’
‘Plenty at the hotel.’
‘Yeah.’
He grinned. ‘I’ve always wanted to do this.’
‘What?’
‘Rescue a damsel in distress, of course. What man doesn’t see himself as a knight in shining armour?’
‘If you help me up, I’m sure I can limp my way back to the hotel. And Bridget will give us some ice.’
He did as I asked, taking my hand and helping me to my feet. And then, just as I was steadying myself, he lifted me into his arms.
‘Ow!’ I yelped. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Rescuing you, of course,’ he said. ‘I’m carrying you back to the hotel. You don’t
think I’d let you hobble on that ankle and make things worse, do you?’
‘I’d be perfectly capable—’ I began, but he interrupted me.
‘You lectured me about my foot,’ he said. ‘Clearly, you’re a do-as-I-say-and-not-as-I-do sort of person.’
‘Possibly,’ I admitted.
‘Now keep still and let me do my Galahad thing,’ he said.
I put my arms around his neck.
It was nice to be rescued.
It was even nicer to be rescued by Max.
He carried me all the way to the hotel, and as he drew near, I heard a horrified exclamation from my mother.
‘Juno! What on earth has happened? Are you all right?’
I lifted my head from Max’s shoulder and slid out of his arms, wincing as my foot touched the ground.
‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘I turned my ankle, that’s all.’
‘For a second I thought . . . I thought . . . well, I don’t know what I thought.’ Mum’s expression was concerned.
‘I’ll be fine. I just need to ice and elevate it,’ I told her.
‘Sit here.’ She gestured towards the cushioned chair she’d vacated.
I hopped over and did what she asked.
‘I’ll get the ice,’ said Max.
‘Can you see if they have an elastic bandage too?’ I asked.
He nodded and went inside the hotel.
‘You’re very pale,’ said Mum. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘It’s pretty sore at the moment,’ I admitted. ‘But I’ll be fine.’
‘Maybe you need a cast or something,’ she said.
‘No!’ I shook my head. ‘Not when we’re flying home so soon. It’d probably be OK, but I’m not going to risk it.’
‘This is all my fault,’ said Mum. ‘I was the one who wanted to come. If I hadn’t . . .’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘I wanted to come too. With you. It’s been lovely.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m glad we did it. And I’m sorry if I sometimes . . . if I’ve been . . . well, stroppy with you, I guess.’
‘I’m glad you’re stroppy,’ she told me. ‘It means I did a good job.’
‘I saw your bookmark.’
‘I always wanted you to be independent. All of you. I suppose Gonne was the closest to me in attitude. But, obviously, Butler went through some hard times, especially when he was younger. All the same, he didn’t compromise who he was and I’m proud of that. And I’m proud you didn’t, either. You did what you wanted to do too.’
‘I thought I was breaking the mould,’ I said.
She laughed. ‘I hope you were. Anyway, getting back to the here and now, what happened? You were lucky that man was around to help you. Is he a guest?’
Before I had a chance to reply, Max returned with a bag of ice and a long elastic bandage, which I used to strap up my ankle.
‘Wow,’ he said when I’d finished. ‘That was impressive.’
‘Easy-peasy.’ I eyed my handiwork with satisfaction.
‘Thank you for helping her,’ said Mum. ‘We haven’t been introduced. I’m Thea Ryan.’
‘I know,’ said Max. ‘I’m a big fan.’
‘Thank you.’ Mum looked pleased. ‘I wasn’t expecting to be recognised out here.’
‘I had a little bit of prior knowledge,’ admitted Max.
‘Who are you?’ she asked.
‘A friend of Juno’s,’ said Max.
‘Sorry?’ Mum looked at him in astonishment. ‘A friend? You’re from around here? You knew her when she stayed before?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Max.
‘He’s Max,’ I told her. ‘Brad’s brother.’
She stared at Max, and then at me.
‘Your lover’s brother?’
‘Mum!’
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked him.
‘Inviting me for coffee,’ I answered, before he had a chance to reply.
‘What?’ Mum was completely bewildered.
‘Juno told me I needed a mini-break. And I thought I could combine that with having coffee with her.’
‘Well, this is an interesting turn of events.’ Mum looked at him and then glanced sidelong at me. ‘I’ve never had a man fly a few thousand miles to ask me for coffee.’
‘I’d be happy to have coffee with you too,’ said Max.
‘Huh.’ Mum snorted. ‘I hope you’re not going to ruin it all by suggesting a double date!’
Max smiled at her. ‘I’d insist on an entirely separate coffee date with you,’ he said. ‘As a fan, I wouldn’t want to share.’
‘Goodness.’ Mum looked at me. ‘He’s quite charming, isn’t he?’
I hadn’t thought of Max as charming before. Just . . . well . . . nice.
‘I don’t think Juno regards me as charming.’ Max echoed my thoughts. ‘Actually, I think she thinks I’m a bit of a pain in the arse. And I have been, I suppose, even though it’s always unintentional. The bottom line is I wanted coffee with her, and I couldn’t wait, and so I came here. But, Juno,’ he turned to me, ‘if you think I am definitely being a pain in the arse, or if you want me to get out of your life and never return, I’ll go.’
There was a sudden movement in the garden. The two young cats stalked across the grass. They were followed by a third.
‘Banquo!’ I exclaimed. ‘Ophelia.’
The cats stopped in the distance. Then Ophelia left her two children and padded through the grass until she was in front of me. She began to purr.
‘Oh, Ophelia,’ I said.
She rubbed against my uninjured ankle.
‘You’ve walked miles!’ I cried.
‘The cat,’ said Mum. ‘The one at the Villa Naranja.’
I nodded.
Ophelia looked at Mum, then at me. And then she strode deliberately over to Max and began to rub against him too.
‘She approves of me,’ said Max. ‘That has to count for something.’
‘I feel like I’m in a play where nobody has told me the ending,’ said Mum. ‘And I’m not sure if it’s got to the point where I should be exiting stage left.’
‘The ending is up to Juno,’ said Max. ‘It always was.’
‘So, are you saying yes to the coffee?’ asked Mum.
‘We met for coffee before,’ I reminded her. ‘It didn’t end up well.’
‘But you can always rewrite the script,’ she told me. ‘It happens all the time.’
‘You think?’ I glanced at Max and then at Mum.
‘You do know,’ she said, ‘that the chemistry between the pair of you is practically electric? And that the audience will be looking for a lot more than coffee at the end of this play.’
‘Mum!’
‘I might be an old woman, but I’m not a stupid woman.’ She stood up. ‘My sensible little girl is the leading lady in a drama of her own making. I’m making my grand exit now.’ She picked up Ulysses and walked quickly into the hotel.
Then Max and I were alone.
‘So . . . coffee.’ He grinned.
‘Oh, stop with the coffee.’ But I grinned too.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘For everything.’
‘Nothing to be sorry about. I should be the one apologising, really. I lost it when we met before, and I don’t know why.’
‘And you texted me, but I was too angry with you to reply. Which was ridiculous, because I was only angry for about ten minutes. And then I was stubborn. And then I was confused because I thought about Brad and you and the note on his computer, and I was suddenly more jealous of him than I’d ever been in my life before. And I hated myself for it.’
‘The past is the past,’ I said.
‘But Brad,’ said Max. ‘He’ll always be there. There’s Dylan, you see. I know he’s with my parents, but he’s also a part of my life – and he always will be. Which would be messy, don’t you think?’
‘Everything’s messy till you look at it clearly,’ I told him. �
��That’s what happens with an X-ray or an ultrasound. We have ideas, we have theories, possibilities . . . and then we look at it and we figure it out. And we find a way to make it better.’
‘Only sometimes you can’t.’
‘But lots of times we can.’
‘Can we?’ he asked.
‘If we can’t, then I’m not the person I thought I was. Or that my mother thinks I am. Or wants me to be.’ I smiled at him. ‘She’s up there in the room and I know she’s peppering to be here and stick her nose in and be involved. Yet she’s holding back, which is a big, big thing for her. But she wants it to be a massive romance. I know she does.’
‘And you?’
‘I’m not a romantic person,’ I said. ‘I wanted to be. I got engaged to Sean because I was desperate to find romance. I fell for Brad because it really did feel romantic. But with you . . .’ I looked at him, and sensations I’d never felt before coursed through my body. ‘With you it’s more than that. It’s . . . it’s something different. Something I never thought I’d feel. And I didn’t want to feel it, because – you’re right – it’s complicated. But only complicated if we want it to be. Do we?’
‘No,’ said Max. ‘I want it to be perfect.’
‘Nothing’s perfect,’ I said.
‘Maybe that’s a good thing.’
Ophelia, who’d been lying in front of us, suddenly jumped up, mewed and stalked away through the garden.
‘She thinks so too,’ I said. ‘She’s kept an eye out for me, you know. All the time I was at the Villa Naranja. And today. For a very, very short time I thought she was Brad’s spirit.’
Max raised an eyebrow.
‘But that was me being silly,’ I said. ‘She’s a cat, that’s all. There are no spirits. There is nothing else, only the here and now.’
‘You can’t be sure of that.’
‘No,’ I conceded. ‘But what I can be sure of is that we have to make the here and now as good as it can be. We have to grab it and enjoy it and make the most of it.’
‘And can we?’ said Max.
‘I hope so.’
‘Do you want to talk about it a bit more over that coffee?’
‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I’m Thea Ryan’s daughter. All of my important conversations happen over champagne.’
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