by Fern Britton
‘Surprised to see you up so early.’ The girl was in her early twenties. She wore short dungarees, with a bright cotton scarf tied round her head. She handed Sennen a cup. ‘Get this down you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Sennen.
‘I remember my first night here,’ the girl said. ‘I’d got the train from Manchester to Portsmouth, then hitched a ride with a long-distance lorry driver all the way through France and Spain. Decent bloke. Had a daughter my age. Want a bread roll?’ She picked up a brown paper bag and pulled out a small baguette. ‘Got no marmalade or owt, though.’
Sennen took it gratefully, breaking it into small pieces, hoping she could keep them down. Her hangover was pretty fierce.
There was the sound of the bedroom door opening. Rosemary wandered out wearing a Snoopy T-shirt and tiny knickers. She sat down on a vinyl-covered stool. ‘I feel shit,’ she said bleakly. ‘Morning.’
‘Morning. Bread roll?’ said her hostess brightly.
Rosemary reached for one and started eating.
‘So,’ said the girl putting her tanned legs on the table and sipping her coffee, ‘what’s the real reason you’re here? Tell your Auntie Rachel.’
Rosemary looked at Sennen who was thoughtfully chewing her bread.
‘Our parents chucked us out,’ Sennen said.
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. ‘Really?’
Sennen pulled her lips down at the corners and nodded. ‘Yeah. Apparently, I am a bad influence on Rosemary.’
‘Well, I know you two can drink.’ Rachel got up and opened a kitchen drawer. She rooted around then grabbed a brown pill bottle. ‘This should help your hangovers.’
Rosemary, round-eyed, shot a frightened look at Sennen.
Rachel laughed. ‘I’m not a dealer. It’s aspirin.’
Twisting the lid off, Sennen downed two tablets. ‘Thanks, Rachel. For last night. I don’t know what we’d have done.’
‘Yeah well,’ Rachel shrugged, ‘I know those people who were buying you drinks and you looked as if you needed rescuing, so …’
Sennen’s hazy memories of last night were of a group of three handsome young Spaniards who’d found them wandering from the docks into the town and offered them dinner.
‘They seemed nice,’ said Rosemary. ‘I liked them.’
‘Yeah, they’re okay, but you need your wits about you. Mateo is a player.’
Sennen thought back. ‘Mateo in the white jeans?’
‘The one and only. Not the type to take home to your mother.’ Rachel sighed. ‘I know from personal experience.’ She retied the scarf in her hair. ‘Moving on, what’s next for you two? You need a job. Somewhere to live.’
Rosemary, who was feeling rather homesick and would have done anything to catch the next ferry home, looked pleadingly at Sennnen – who ignored her.
‘We were thinking of bar work or chambermaiding, perhaps,’ Sennen shrugged. ‘Anything.’
Rachel got to her feet and put her mug in the sink. ‘You can stay here for a week or two. After that you’re on your own. I’ve got to go to work in an hour, so get dressed and I’ll take you into town with me. We’ll ask around.’
Rachel’s apartment was underneath an old and ugly residential building which had many windows broken. As the three girls climbed the dark and smelly concrete stairs to ground level, Rachel explained that the building was due to be demolished. ‘I’ve been here for three months now. One of the better squats I’ve known.’ She pushed a heavy door and they found themselves on the street.
Sennen and Rosemary squinted at the sudden sharp light. Rachel found some sunglasses and perched them on her nose, sniffing. ‘Gonna be hot today.’
As they walked, they passed small parks with ladies walking dogs and men sitting in the shade watching the ladies walking the dogs.
Café tables and umbrellas spilt out on to the pavement, the smell of the lunchtime tapas reminding Sennen that she could do with some breakfast.
They walked for about fifteen minutes, turned a corner, and saw the sea sparkling ahead of them with a long stretch of beach running to their left and right.
Sennen caught her breath. ‘Wow.’ She put her arm around Rosemary’s shoulder. ‘Fancy a swim?’
Rachel pulled them along. ‘You can have a swim once we’ve found you a job.’
They walked for another mile or so, the heat building all the time. Sennen was hot and uncomfortable, Rosemary was thirsty and tired. ‘Where are we going?’ she bleated.
‘Right here,’ said Rachel.
They had stopped outside a busy café bar sitting in the shade of several trees opposite the beach.
‘Come and meet my boss.’ She shouted to a small man with a big belly who was working at a coffee machine. ‘Ola, Tomas!’
He looked over at her and lifted his chin in greeting. He glanced at Sennen and Rosemary.
‘Not more of your street urchins, Rachel?.’
‘Tomas, these are friends of mine, just arrived from England. I was at school with them.’
Tomas turned away from her and shot a jet of hot steam through a pipe. ‘You think I was born yesterday. You have been at school with all the girls in the UK?’
‘I am very popular.’ Rachel laughed, then putting her head on one side and blinking coquettishly said, ‘Please, Tomas? Sennen and Rosemary just need a little tiny job.’
He gave a guttural throaty snort. ‘Experience?’
Rachel nudged Sennen.
‘Oh yes,’ Sennen answered convincingly, ‘I’ve worked in lots of cafés and pubs at home. I love it. Meeting so many interesting people.’
‘Don’t overdo it,’ Tomas replied, smiling, ‘I can tell bullshit when I hear it.’
‘And I’m very good at that too,’ said Sennen.
Tomas laughed. A deep laugh that wobbled his belly. ‘Okay. I give you girls aprons and Rachel will show you what to do. By tonight I will see if you are good.’
It was a long day. The café was popular with tourists and locals and whatever language barrier there may have been the girls got over with sign language and a smatter of O-level Spanish.
Tomas watched them all day, shouting disapproval and orders or nodding silently.
It was gone midnight before the last customer left.
‘Clear the tables and I will tell you my decision,’ he told them.
At last the place was tidy, bar and glasses cleaned, chairs upturned on all the tables except one, where Tomas sat reading a newspaper.
He gestured for them to join him.
Rosemary sat down yawning. ‘Tired, eh?’ Tomas asked.
‘Yes.’
‘You work hard today. You were good with the customers.’ He looked at Sennen. ‘You are cheeky. Too much chat, but I think they liked you.’
Rachel clapped her hands. ‘Told you they were good.’
He slid a sideways look at her. ‘I tell you before, I was not born yesterday. These two have no experience. All bullshit.’
He put his newspaper on the table. ‘No more lies. I will give you the job but bring me no trouble. No boyfriends, no police. Understood?’
Rosemary nodded. ‘Thank you.’ She looked at Sennen who was looking at Tomas’s newspaper. ‘Sennen,’ she said. ‘What do you say?’
Sennen tore her eyes from the paper. ‘What?’
‘We’ve got a job. Tomas has given us the job.’
‘Oh … right. That’s great.’ She turned to Tomas. ‘May I have your paper?’
In bed that night, Sennen looked at the newspaper again, at the photo of a young man in a sequined black biker jacket, swirling a magician’s wand and a wolfish smile. He was here. He had told her he would be. He had laughed when she said she would follow him. She couldn’t wait to surprise him. She read the article. Amongst the Spanish words she managed to translate were ‘Senor A’Mayze seria en el Teatro Arriaga hasta el 30 do Septiembre.’ So now she knew he was at Arriaga Theatre until 30th September. She had six days in which to surprise him.
T
he work at Tomas’s Café was hard but as the days passed her feet got less sore and the heat more bearable. They were earning good tips and Tomas was pleased with them. On the night of 29 September, Sennen asked Tomas if she could have the next night off.
‘Por qué?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘I have to go to the dentist.’
He laughed. ‘No, you don’t. You are meeting someone? A boy, perhaps? Not the dentist, anyway.’
She decided to tell – almost – the truth. ‘Tomas, I want to see the magic show at the theatre in town. I have always loved magic and one of my favourite magicians from England is in the show and … Don’t tell Rachel or Rosemary. They will laugh at me.’
Tomas looked right into her eyes. ‘I smell the bullshit,’ he said. ‘But, I will give you one night off … to see the dentist … and then you will be back. Si?’
She flung her arms around him. ‘Si, si. Gracias, Tomas.’
He peeled her off him. ‘But you still have to work tonight and tomorrow.’
‘Of course.’ She hesitated before asking, ‘May I have my wages?’
He shook his head. ‘Not until the day after tomorrow.’
With no money she couldn’t buy a ticket, but it didn’t matter. She left work early and went back to the squat to shower and change. Looking in the small, speckled mirror she saw a slightly thinner, now-freckled, face. Her sun-lightened hair gleamed as it hung over her tanned shoulders. She looked really pretty. What a surprise he was going to get.
She walked into town, soaking up the evening sun. People were promenading, hand in hand, or sitting on the pavements under coloured umbrellas sipping cold wine or beer. A tapas bar was playing the Spice Girls’ hit ‘Wannabe’. Sennen relaxed. The song put a bounce in her step and confidence in her heart. Tonight was going to be the best night of her life.
Outside the theatre, an excited crowd was milling around, laughing and calling to each other. Sennen looked closely at the photographs of the performers hanging in the glass cases of the outer walls of the building.
There were names and faces of famous magicians from all over the world but she couldn’t find Ali’s. At last the crowd thinned as they went inside to find their seats and she could get a closer look. In a group photo of the cast, she saw him. Fourth from the end, next to the cabaret dancers in rhinestoned leotards with feathers in their hair and fake eyelashes. He was looking straight out to the camera, his dazzling smile lighting his face, his eyes looking right at her. She put her hand to the glass and touched him. It suddenly all seemed worth it. ‘Ali. I’m here to surprise you. Not long now. I have missed you.’
She had two hours to wait. She sat in a side-street café next to the stage door and ordered a coke, her eyes glued to the theatre’s exit. She could hear the band through the back wall and the applause from the audience as the last curtain call was taken.
She finished the coke and, leaving the money by the empty glass, she walked to the stage door. She was the first person there. Soon the fans would have escaped the theatre and be here, jostling with their programmes for autographs. She stood her ground as they started to arrive.
The stage door opened and a gaggle of the girl dancers appeared in leggings and warm cardigans, still with their showgirl make-up on. Their boyfriends swiftly escorted them away. Next came some men carrying musical instruments, then two glamorous women, a double act, Sennen supposed, who signed a few autographs and then … there he was.
Her heart missed a beat. His dark hair was even longer, hanging sexily in his eyes and tumbling over his shoulders. He beamed at the autograph hunters as they pressed forward.
She held back, wanting to freeze this moment for as long as she could. He signed a woman’s ticket and, giving her pen back, looked around for the next person who wanted his attention. And saw her. At least, she thought he did. He reached for another pen, signed another programme, posed for another photograph then reached his hand out to her. She took it. ‘Hello,’ she said smiling at him. ‘Surprise.’
He smiled back in confused recognition, then froze. He dropped her hand.
‘Ali. It’s me,’ she said, suddenly fearful.
Another woman’s hand reached to grasp his. He smiled now, but not at Sennen. He was looking at someone behind her. ‘Darling,’ he said.
Sennen turned. A pretty blonde with long legs was pulling him from the crowd. ‘Ali, come on. I promised the babysitter we’d be back.’
Sennen stood between them. ‘Ali? It’s me, Sennen.’
He knew who she was. His eyes told her that. For a second he stared back at her with what, fear? Panic? The woman pushed Sennen out of the way. ‘Excuse me, love. He needs to get out of here.’
Sennen fell back as Ali swept past, looking anywhere but at her.
When Rosemary and Rachel got home later that evening, Sennen was already packed.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Rosemary, puzzled.
‘You’re going back,’ she said, struggling with the straps of her rucksack.
‘What?’ asked Rosemary.
Sennen looked at her, as though she were a halfwit. ‘It’s what you want isn’t it?
‘Well, yes, but … not right now. I’m sort of enjoying it now.’
Rachel, leaning against the bedroom door, held her hands up. ‘I know Spanish dentists can be bad, but this is ridiculous.’
Sennen turned on her. ‘It’s nothing to do with a dentist, I just … I just want to go. Okay?’
Rachel shrugged. ‘No skin off my nose. I’m going to make a cuppa if anyone’s interested.’
Alone in their room, Rosemary sat on the bed and watched as Sennen gathered up her passport and make-up.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked gently. ‘Is it Henry and Ella? Are they okay? Are you missing them?’
Sennen sat down and burst into tears. ‘I don’t know. I just … It’s me.’
‘What’s you?’
‘I just want to leave here, okay?’
‘Henry and Ella will be pleased to see you.’
‘Stop talking about them!’ Sennen rubbed her tears away ferociously.
‘But you’re their mum.’
‘Shut up! I don’t want Rachel to hear. Forget about them. I have.’
‘Have you?’
Sennen dissolved into tears again. ‘No,’ she sobbed. ‘But I want freedom. I don’t want to be judged any more. I don’t want my sainted parents looking at me in their disappointed way any more. I don’t want to be woken up at all hours of the night. I want to sleep, and lie in – and be me again.’
‘I’d love to have a baby,’ said Rosemary quietly.
Sennen pulled herself together and wiped her nose. ‘That’s what I thought, too.’
‘But I’ll have their dad to help me,’ said Rosemary.
‘Ha,’ Sennen scoffed, stuffing a pair of socks from the floor into her rucksack, ‘assuming he’ll want to hang around.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Rosemary passed Sennen a clean tissue. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’ She watched as Sennen rubbed the smeared mascara from her face. ‘Any chance that their dad would help you?’
Sennen laughed bitterly. ‘Oh no. Absolutely not.’
Through the long night Sennen and Rosemary talked. Eventually Rosemary persuaded Sennen to return to Cornwall with her in the morning. ‘We’ll get the earliest ferry. We’ll go to your parents first and explain. I’ll be with you. By tomorrow night you will be in your own bed and Ella and Henry will be so happy to have their mummy home.’
They got up and left the squat before Rachel woke up. Sennen left a note saying thank you and to tell Tomas that they were sorry, and Rosemary left half of her tip money next to it.
The sun was coming up as they walked towards the docks. The first boat from England had just come in and the cars with their shiny GB stickers were disembarking. The girls had to cross the road to the ferry terminal to buy their tickets and waited as the cars went by. A man driving an estate car full to the gunnels with luggage, t
wo children in the back and his wife in the front, slowed to wave them over.
Rosemary lifted her hand in a wave of thanks. The wife stared at them. She nudged her husband, then lifted a newspaper from her lap. Sennen saw the photos of herself and Rosemary on the front page.
‘Run!’ she said sharply to Rosemary. ‘Hide your face and run.’
In the terminal they dashed into the ladies loo, out of breath and panicking. ‘They saw us,’ gulped Sennen. ‘Shit. We’re in the papers.’
Rosemary went white. ‘We must be in so much trouble!’
Sennen searched for her purse. ‘Here.’ She shoved what money she had into Rosemary’s hand. ‘Take it and go. I’m not coming with you.’
‘But you must! You said you would,’ Rosemary pleaded. ‘We’ll go together. It’ll be okay.’
‘Go and buy a ticket and get on that boat,’ ordered Sennen.
‘I’m not going without you,’ Rosemary sobbed.
Sennen rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. A bad headache was setting in. ‘Okay, okay.’
Sennen checked around her. The building was quiet. A handful of foot passengers were waiting to buy their tickets but the cars were already embarking. Sennen could hear the metallic thump and rattle as each vehicle drove over the gangplank into the bowels of the ship.
There were no police and nobody waving copies of British newspapers about. ‘You get your ticket. I’ll just get a drink from the shop over there. Do you want anything?’
‘No, I’ll be fine.’ Rosemary had calmed down and was looking much happier. ‘See you at the ticket office.’
In the small shop Sennen went to a display of cuddly toys. She picked up a pink pony with a white fluffy tail and a green dragon with silvery wings. She stuffed them in her pockets while the lady shopkeeper had her back turned then marched to where Rosemary was waiting. She took the toys from her pocket and handed them over. ‘Give these to the kids, will you? Tell them they’re from me.’
Rosemary giggled. ‘No, you give them to them.’
Sennen said nothing but looked at her feet.