‘I suppose you thought mine and Cally’s was excessive?’ Bey could detect the slightest edge to his voice.
‘Why wouldn’t it have been?’ she said. ‘Callista’s an only daughter. She was entitled to make a big day of it.’
‘So what sort of wedding are you planning to have?’ he asked. ‘Sackcloth and ashes?’
She made a face at him. ‘I haven’t planned it,’ she said.
‘I thought all girls started planning their wedding from the age of five.’
‘Really? I don’t know anyone who did.’ She poured more water into her glass. ‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ she added. ‘I’m being a bit weird today. I love wedding stuff – at least for other people – and I want to design that tiara. I know it’ll look lovely.’
‘It’ll be spectacular,’ said Will.
‘Spectacular is the brief,’ she agreed.
They sat in silence as the sun began to sink lower in the sky and flooded the water with a golden glow.
‘It’s still the best job in the world,’ he said eventually. ‘Even if you think it’s silly.’
‘That’s not what I said,’ Bey told him. ‘I don’t think making jewellery is silly at all. You know I love gemstones. I just think that grown women obsessing about a single day is silly. You should be true to yourself.’
‘You are,’ said Will. ‘Always. Everyone says that about you.’
‘I’m being an idiot,’ said Bey. ‘We’re in this gorgeous place and I’m nit-picking over the client. Who, Nico would remind us, is always right.’
Will smiled. ‘Have a glass of wine,’ he said. ‘You’ll remember everything you need to remember. Chill out for once, Bey.’
‘Oh, OK.’
When the wine arrived, he raised his glass to her. ‘Here’s to us,’ he said.
‘To our success,’ she amended as she raised hers in return.
Chapter 29
Jasper: a grainy chalcedony, usually yellow-brown
It was properly dark by the time they’d finished the wine, and Will asked Bey if she was hungry yet.
‘Starving,’ she said. ‘Those olives were all very well, but they don’t exactly fill you up, do they.’
‘Would you like to go to dinner? In town or in the parador?’
Bey glanced over her shoulder. Elegantly set tables with white tablecloths and individual flower arrangements were visible through the hotel’s long picture windows.
‘I was thinking a burger downtown would be lovely,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve had enough of starched linen and cut glass for the day.’
Will grinned.
‘Don’t feel you have to come with me,’ continued Bey. ‘If you’d rather eat here, that’s fine by me.’
‘A burger sounds great,’ he said.
‘Give me a minute to drop my notebook and stuff upstairs,’ Bey said. ‘Then we’ll go.’
She returned a few minutes later in a pair of light trousers and a denim jacket, a small bag over her shoulder in place of the leather satchel she’d carried with her earlier. Together they walked past the Gran Teatro, with its Moorish design, and along the narrow cobbled Calle Sacramento to the heart of the old town.
‘This is like another movie set,’ said Will as he pulled her to one side to avoid a Vespa whizzing along the street. ‘I kind of expect the cobbles to be slick with rain beneath these pools of lamplight.’
‘Idiot.’ Bey’s heartbeat returned to normal after the suddenness of his touch.
‘Who’s the idiot? Me or him.’ He made a face after the scooter rider.
‘You,’ she said. ‘With your talk of arty movies and whatever. He’s probably used to zipping along these roads. Look – there seems to be a little plaza ahead of us.’
‘Oh good,’ said Will. ‘I was thinking that this was going to get even narrower. It’s astonishing, isn’t it, how tiny the streets are.’
‘It is a bit,’ agreed Bey. ‘Is that a bar over there? D’you think they do food?’
‘Let’s see.’
The place she’d pointed out did indeed serve food, although Will looked a bit doubtfully at the printed menu in its shabby plastic folder.
‘It’s fine,’ said Bey.
‘If you’re sure.’
He ordered burgers, chips and two glasses of wine. Bey took a sip of hers and gasped.
‘What’s it like?’ he asked.
‘A sturdy little number.’ She grimaced. ‘But it’s wine.’
‘That’s what you get for choosing a local bar over a flash dining room.’
‘Don’t the tourist guides always tell you local is better?’ she demanded.
‘Hmm. I’m not entirely convinced about getting down with the locals all the time,’ he said.
‘Too much high living is turning you into a proper snob, Will Murdoch,’ she said. ‘I bet the chipper in Auchtermuchty is quite good enough for you.’
He roared with laughter. ‘I’ve never been to Auchtermuchty,’ he said. ‘But I’m sure you’re right. And I only eat chips from the chippie if they’re smothered in salt and vinegar.’
‘Oooh.’ She sighed. ‘Total bliss. There was a wonderful chipper around the corner from us at home. Mum used to get fish and chips there as a treat. They were gorgeous.’
The bar owner arrived at their table with their food. The burgers looked big and juicy and the chips were home cooked.
‘Y’see,’ said Bey when Will had tasted one and given it the thumbs-up. ‘The wine might be a little on the rough-and-ready side but the food is great.’
‘You’re a girl who’s never lost touch with her roots,’ he said.
‘Oh, please.’ She shook her head as she squeezed tomato sauce onto the side of her plate. ‘I am who I am. I meet rich people. I’m not one of them. Much as I’d like to wear the jewels, I’m happier making them.’
As she said the words, she realised they were true, at least as far as some of the more extravagant pieces were concerned. Her fingers went to her ears. She didn’t have the Adele Bluebells on today; for the meeting with the Duquesa she’d worn a pair of Van Aelten and Schaap chandelier diamonds, which cost £25,000. She’d put them in the room safe before coming out and substituted them with a pair of silver studs from Jurado’s.
‘You’re a good person, Bey Fitzpatrick,’ said Will. ‘I wish I’d known you sooner.’
‘Sooner than when?’ She dipped one of her chips into the tomato sauce.
‘Sooner than . . . well . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Before now. Thing is, I feel like I’ve known you forever.’
‘How odd. I feel the same about you.’ Bey’s expression was startled. ‘I mean,’ she continued quickly, ‘we see things the same way and that makes us a good team. Today was great. The Duquesa . . . Izzy . . . is lovely. I’m looking forward to working on the tiara. I hope she goes for loads of sapphires.’
‘You do, do you?’ Will smiled. ‘You don’t care that I’m the one who has to go looking for them?’
‘Leave no stone unturned,’ she joked. ‘Isn’t that your motto?’
‘Because it’s true.’
She was happy that their conversation had returned to jewellery, which kept them occupied for quite some time. After a couple of coffees, Will paid the bill and they began to walk back.
They heard the sound of another motorbike on the road behind them, and once again Will pulled Bey to one side. But this time the rider didn’t go straight past them. Instead he slowed down and in a single motion cut the thin strap holding Bey’s bag on her shoulder and pulled it towards him. Then, with the bag under his arm, he speeded up again and had disappeared out of sight before either of them had properly registered what had happened.
‘Are you all right?’ Will’s arm was around her shoulder and he was looking at her anxiously. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I’m fine. Just . . . shocked.’ She rubbed her arm where the strap of the bag had been. ‘I can’t quite believe that happened.’
‘Sure you’re
OK?’ asked Will.
‘Honestly,’ she said.
‘We’d better go to the police. I’m sure the concierge at the hotel can—’
‘No,’ she said. ‘No police.’
‘But you’ve been mugged!’ cried Will. ‘What did you have in your bag?’
‘Only my purse,’ said Bey. ‘Luckily I’d left everything else in my satchel. I didn’t think I was going to need my cards, so I didn’t bother taking them.’
‘How about your phone? Your passport? Keys? Stuff like that?’
‘All in the satchel,’ Bey said. ‘Mind you, he did get the Dior lipstick I treated myself to in duty-free, as well as my gorgeous bottle of Jo Malone, but that’s it.’ She gave him a shaky smile.
‘How much was in your purse?’
‘A hundred euros,’ she said. ‘It’s not the end of the world.’
‘We should still report it.’
‘I’d rather not. You know what the police are like, everything takes forever, and we’re in another country, we don’t speak the language . . . it’s too much trouble, really it is.’
‘I don’t like to think that he’ll get away with it,’ said Will.
‘He will anyway.’ Bey heard the tremor in her own voice. ‘I didn’t see him properly. I wouldn’t be able to identify him.’
She’d said exactly the same thing to the lovely, caring garda who’d talked to her that Christmas. The woman had led her through what she had and hadn’t seen, trying to unearth any information Bey might have, but all her efforts had been in vain. Bey could remember nothing but a tweed cap and dark-rimmed glasses. Which the garda said was fantastic anyhow, because it gave them something to work with. But despite that, they hadn’t found the man who’d abducted her until his body had been unearthed years later. And in the meantime, Bey had been consumed with guilt that she hadn’t tried to imprint every detail of him on her mind.
‘If you don’t want to report it, you don’t have to.’ Will had heard her voice shake and realised that she was upset. ‘Let’s get back to the hotel and have a drink to steady our nerves.’
‘No,’ said Bey as she unconsciously tidied her hair. ‘You’re right. We’ll go to the police.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Certain,’ she said.
He took her arm and they walked back up the street again. She was angry with herself for not taking more care with her bag, for not wearing it on her other shoulder, away from the street, to make it more difficult for someone to snatch. Given that there’d been nothing that couldn’t be easily replaced in it, the theft was a minor irritation rather than a catastrophe, but it was the violation that was upsetting; the fact that someone had pushed against her, touched her, treated her as an obstacle rather than a person.
They talked about me as though I wasn’t there. As though I was an object.
Another memory. This time of saying those words about the Warrens to Paige Pentony, her counsellor, even as she felt guilty that Lola was having to shell out for her sessions. And then more – that she was worrying her mother by not eating, even though every bite of food tasted like cardboard. That Lola was sleeping as badly as Bey herself because she was afraid that one day she’d let herself out of the house in her sleep. As well as the guilt that she was the cause of even more animosity between her parents. Paige had told her that she had to let it go, that she could only be responsible for her own feelings, but Bey found that difficult to do.
The police station was in an old building that had been modernised inside. When Bey began to explain what had happened in her rusty Spanish, the kindly officer called an English-speaking colleague to take their statement.
‘I doubt we will recover your items,’ he told Bey. ‘But you must list them and the value for your insurance claim.’
‘Oh, I probably won’t bother with that,’ she said.
He looked horrified. ‘You must. That is why you have insurance, no?’
She smiled at his outrage and then gave an approximate value for the bag, the purse and the other items. The whole process took over an hour, and she was exhausted by the time they were finished.
‘We definitely need a drink after that,’ said Will as they walked back to the hotel.
There weren’t many people around when they arrived at the parador, and the small bar beside the outdoor area was closed.
‘I thought everything in Spain stayed open till the early hours,’ he said in dismay.
‘It’s OK,’ Bey said. ‘I’ll just go to bed.’ She was suddenly feeling teary, which she told herself was delayed shock. But she wasn’t going to cry in front of Will Murdoch. She was a professional person. He was her colleague. She needed to pull herself together.
But when they got upstairs, she remembered that her key card had been in her bag too.
‘I’ll go to reception and get you another,’ said Will.
‘I don’t think they’ll give you my room key,’ she told him. ‘I’ll have to get it myself.’
As she turned and began to walk along the corridor, she stumbled and reached out to the wall for support. Will was beside her in an instant.
‘I’m fine, I’m fine,’ she said as he steadied her. ‘Just a little wobbly for a moment.’
The receptionist made no comment when she asked for another key, and simply coded one for her.
‘You should have a drink before you head off to bed,’ Will said. ‘You’re very definitely in shock.’
‘I’m over it now,’ she assured him. But quite suddenly she didn’t want to be alone, so she nodded and followed him to his room. It was identical to hers, with a huge picture window leading to a wide balcony overlooking the illuminated swimming pools below.
‘Oh.’ Bey forgot her shock as she stepped outside and stared out at them. ‘They’re like two rectangles of tanzanite on a black cloth. You could . . .’ Her words petered out as she studied the pools.
‘You’re not thinking jewellery right now, are you?’ Will had opened the minibar and was extracting a couple of bottles.
‘Well, yes.’ She turned towards him with a weak smile. ‘That look is so geometric but so bright. It’d work really well in a collar, or a bracelet.’
‘You’re unbelievable,’ he said. He handed her a glass.
She looked at the amber liquid inside. ‘What’s this?’
‘Whisky,’ he said.
‘I don’t drink whisky,’ she told him. ‘Honestly, Will, you’re making me out to be some kind of traumatised victim. I’m not. I’ve never been a victim. I’m in charge of my own life and I can handle everything it throws at me. And if I’ve made a mistake, I can accept it and move on.’
He was startled by her tone and her words. She looked at him ruefully.
‘Sorry. It’s a bit of a mantra. I learned it when I was younger.’
‘There’s more to you than meets the eye, Bey Fitzpatrick,’ he said.
‘Maybe.’ She sniffed at the whisky. ‘I’m sorry. I truly can’t drink this.’
‘Wine?’
She sat down on one of the outdoor chairs. Perhaps a glass of wine, looking out onto those pools, was a good idea after all.
A minute later, Will put a glass of wine in front of her and joined her.
‘It’s a spectacular view,’ he acknowledged.
‘Beautiful by night, stunning by day,’ she said. ‘Can’t you see it, though – blue stones, and diamonds behind, like the pool lights, and . . .’ she frowned, ‘a yellow jasper – what on earth is that in the pool?’ She got up, glass in hand, and leaned over the balcony. The yellow object she’d seen moving through the blue water was an automated pool cleaner. She turned to smile at Will, who’d followed her.
‘Clever,’ he said. ‘I’ve never actually seen one working before.’
‘It’s kind of cute. But it doesn’t really fit in with my design vision.’
‘I guess not.’
They watched as the robotic cleaner moved methodically up and down the pool. It was strangely calming, th
ought Bey as she sipped the wine, which was immeasurably more palatable than the stuff at the local bar. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease and her mind started to drift back to the Duquesa and her tiara. The lighted swimming pools had sparked a flood of new ideas in her head, but there was a tranquillity to standing in the moonlight, her head resting against Will’s shoulder, that made her want to stay where she was for a few minutes longer.
Her head against Will’s shoulder! The moment she realised it, she jerked upright and wine splashed out of her glass and onto his shirt.
‘Oh crap!’ she cried. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It does seem to be a habit of yours to drench me in liquids,’ he observed as he mopped at the shirt with one of the paper napkins from the table. ‘What the hell happened there?’
‘I . . . I was leaning against you,’ she said.
‘And that was enough to make you decide to drown me in Viña Esmeralda?’ he asked.
‘I shouldn’t have been . . . I’m so, so sorry.’
‘It’s perfectly OK,’ said Will.
‘No. No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have . . .’
‘It’s fine,’ he insisted. ‘You’d had a shock. You needed a moment.’
‘Yes, and I had it. I’ll leave you alone now. I’m sure you’ve plenty to do.’
‘Like what?’ he asked.
‘Like . . . like . . . contact wholesalers. Source stones. Your usual stuff.’
‘It might surprise you to know that I don’t spend my entire life looking at pieces of rock,’ said Will. ‘I’m perfectly capable of spending an evening without feeling the need to examine diamonds or sapphires.’
‘I guess.’
‘Relax,’ he said. ‘Sit and talk to me. And not about jewellery; about anything else you like. But wait until I change out of this. D’you want another glass, by the way?’ he called from the room. ‘Most of that seems to have ended up on me.’
‘Oh, OK.’ She’d stopped caring about the alcohol. Besides, they didn’t have to be up early in the morning. Will was right. She recognised that she was still a bit shocked. She needed to relax. She just wasn’t sure she could do it with him.
What Happened That Night: The page-turning holiday read by the No. 1 bestselling author Page 29