t was getting late and we decided to stop off at Rex’s place in Es Cana to sample those olives he had told me about. It was the most perfect little whitewashed house ever, with a shock of pink flowers growing up the side. Rex told me that the flowers were called bougainvillea and had picked some for me to put in my hair, which I gladly did because anything that made my hair look nicer was all right in my book.
I was slightly apprehensive about going back to Rex’s house. Having already shown me most of his regular haunts and places of personal meaning, it seemed as though this was the last place he wanted me to see – like in showing me, he was revealing the final aspect of himself.
It was a warm, balmy evening and Rex suggested we sit in the garden that was full of flowers and little trees and plants and shrubs, their scent filling the air with a pungent aroma. Underneath a tree was one of those swinging benches with a canopy over the top. I almost squealed with delight when I saw it. My sister and I had always wanted one as kids.
We both fell backwards on to the bench and began to swing, the soft evening breeze and heady smell of the flowers wafting past our noses as we rocked.
‘It’s beautiful here,’ I said as I tentatively placed the olive that he’d given me in my mouth – and it actually tasted OK, nothing like the ones Willow and I had sampled back home. ‘I can see why you’d never want to come home.’
‘This is my home,’ Rex said, letting one leg dangle over the edge of the bench as it swung. ‘I will never leave here. Ibiza is where my heart is. I’ve never felt more at home anywhere in the world – and you know, I’ve travelled a bit: all over Europe, Thailand, Bali, across Asia, Australia, New Zealand, America, Mexico and of course, Manchester.’ He laughed.
I was pretty impressed. This was only my third time abroad, unless you count a day trip to Calais with the school when I was twelve, in which case it was my fourth.
‘Although my family are back in England, I don’t think of it as home,’ he said. ‘You know when you’re away in a different place and you dream of home? Well, Ibiza is where I dream of, even though I’ve only been here for five years.’
All this talk of home made me think about my own: my home in London with Mum and Ellie and Greg. I thought of my bedroom – my small, cosy bedroom with the pale-pink walls that badly needed redecorating, and my fairy lights in the shape of hearts around my bed, with my big warm duvet and fluffy pillows, and my books and CDs and my clothes and shoes and bags strewn across the floor. I suddenly missed it, missed my mum and, shocked as I was to admit it, even Greg too. Abruptly I craved the uncomplicated normality of it all, the predictability of my pre-Ibiza life and the hustle and bustle of my daily routine: going to school, hanging out with Wils, doing nothing much in particular. Everything had seemed so straightforward before I’d come here. It had been simple and familiar, which made me feel safe. I wondered if, on my return, everything would just slot right back into its old place, or would things have irrevocably changed, especially now that Wils had found a new friend and I had fallen in love?
‘But, you see, a house isn’t a home unless there’s love there . . .’ Rex said, breaking my thoughts.
‘No, I guess not,’ I said with a smile and I thought about how much love there was and had been in my house over the years. ‘No one’s ever done anything like that for me before – you know, the letters in the sand,’ I said, referring to his pledge on the beach. ‘It was so . . . so lovely.’
‘I meant it, you know,’ he said, shuffling in closer to me. ‘I wanted to do something special for you.’
I sensed he was thinking about the whole time-running-out issue again but I couldn’t bring it up. It hurt too much to even think about it, let alone say it out loud.
‘It was special,’ I said, and he would never really know how much.
‘You’re special,’ he said, looking at me, his eyes filled with sincerity. ‘You know, I’ll be twenty-seven soon and although it’s not exactly old, I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever find you . . .’
I looked up at him now, entranced by what he was saying.
‘I know I live in this crazy, hedonistic world filled with parties and eternal sunshine, but one day I knew I’d meet someone that would change the way I feel about my future, someone I could envisage spending my life with: marriage and a family – all that is really important to me. I’m actually quite traditional at heart,’ he said, seeming a little shy all of a sudden.
I swallowed dryly, unsure of how to feel. His words both scared and exhilarated me simultaneously. Was he saying it was me? I was the one he wanted to grow old with?
‘When I was twenty-two, your age, I was bang on it,’ he continued. ‘Music and partying was all I ever thought about. I never thought about tomorrow, let alone the next ten years. But you know since meeting you, I’ve thought more about my future and what I want from it than ever before.’
I looked down at my feet, uncertain of how to respond. I wished I could fast-forward my life ten years – to be twenty-six, the same age as him. I wanted to want those things too: marriage, children, a home life with a man I loved. I wanted to have them with him – but right now hearing him talk about them made them seem so real and it felt strange. Rex was still looking at me intensely and I smiled at him nervously.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, sensing my discomfort. ‘I’m not about to whisk you down the aisle or anything. Not just yet anyway,’ he laughed and took my hand. ‘When do you have to go?’ he asked, squeezing it tightly.
‘Well, I said I would probably be back before it got too late.’
‘No, I mean go home, back to London?’ His voice was wavering. He’d finally been the braver of us both and had brought up the subject of me leaving.
‘Next Monday,’ I said quietly. And we both sat there, the sadness of those inevitable words hanging there, mixed with the scent of the flowers in the air.
‘Well,’ he said, finally, ‘in that case I don’t want to waste a second.’ He began rocking the bench really high, back and forth, and I began to shriek because I thought the whole thing might collapse any second.
‘Enough!’ I screamed and I tried to stop him, but he grabbed me by the waist and started tickling me, and I was gasping for breath – and sure enough, the rope that was supporting the battered old swing bench finally gave way under the strain and we crashed down on the grass with a bump.
We both sat there, looking at each other a bit bewildered, before we cracked up laughing, rolling around on the grass, our faces aching as we collapsed in a hysterical heap next to each other and we were looking up at the sky that was close to darkness by now.
‘You know I love you too,’ I found myself saying, after a moment’s silence.
Rex touched my hand softly, linking his fingers through mine, creating a lock as he pulled me over on top of him so that our bodies were touching. I snuggled against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart as he spoke.
‘It’s funny,’ he said, ‘falling in love was the last thing I had expected. There I am playing my music and strumming my guitar, and then suddenly you come along and it all feels so different. Now when I pick up my guitar I think of songs I’d like to play for you. Whenever I spin a record, it reminds me of things we’ve done or a place we’ve been to together. Everything I say and do, all that I see and hear, relates back to you – to us – and it just feels so right. And now – well, you’ll be going home soon and I just . . . well, that just seems so wrong.’
I felt so sad – sad because I felt all those things and more. With Rex I felt truly alive, like I had been dead all these years and he had woken me from an eternal sleep, and soon it would all be gone.
‘You know I really do love you too,’ I repeated, because now that I’d found the courage to say it once I wanted to keep on saying it and saying it until I wore the words out.
Rex pulled me even closer to him, as if he wanted to pull me right into his soul, and he stroked my hair, over and over.
‘That ti
me,’ he said as his gentle fingers worked their way through my knotty mass of curls, ‘on the beach when you told me about your dad. I knew then that I loved you.’
‘You did?’ I asked, willing him to continue.
‘You opened up to me and it made me feel special, like you trusted me enough with your deepest feelings. I felt honoured that you could share your pain with me and it made me want to never let anything or anyone hurt you ever again.’
I could feel tears forming in my eyes, making the image of his face all blurry as I looked at him.
‘I thought about what you’d told me when I went for my daily run along the beach the next day and you know, I cried, Iz. I cried for that little eleven-year-old girl you were who had lost her dad in such a cruel way. I felt your pain as if it were my own. That’s when I knew I must love you.’
I let the tears silently slide down the side of my face again and he bent forward and kissed me. His lips were soft and warm and his breath was bittersweet, mixed with the saltiness of my tears. ‘I never want to let you go,’ he said, his voice cracking as he held on to me.
‘Then don’t,’ I croaked back. ‘Don’t ever let me go.’
When I woke, the sun was shining brightly, and I shut my eyes as quickly as I had opened them to shield them from its harshness. For a second I didn’t know where I was and I felt a brief moment of panic. Then I felt Rex’s arm around me, loosely draped over my shoulder as he lay next to me on the sofa. I wasn’t sure how we had got there, or what time it was, or whether I should wake him – he looked so peaceful asleep next to me, the softness of his breathing only just audible. We must’ve fallen asleep on his couch.
I searched for my phone to check the time. Oh bloody hell! It was nearly eight o’clock in the morning – the next morning. And now the panic really did set in. I was for the high jump now, of that much I was sure.
he second I walked through the door and clocked Ellie’s face, I was hit by this sinking feeling, the sort I imagine criminals must have when they come home to find the police waiting for them, knowing they’ve been caught bang to rights.
‘Been anywhere nice?’ said Ellie, her voice tight and measured.
‘Not really – well, yes actually, I had a really nice night with Edie. We went for pizza and then back to her apartment to listen to CDs and it got late and well, I thought I might as well stay over. Sorry I didn’t text but I fell asleep . . .’
My sister stood up and walked towards me, and I couldn’t help but notice how gracefully she moved, like a ballerina, which was a ridiculous thing to notice, given the circumstances.
‘So are you going to tell me where you really were or are you just going to carry on with these blatant lies?’ Ellie asked angrily. ‘I know that Edie girl went home over a week ago!’ she said, emphasising the final part for maximum impact.
I knew the time had come.
‘OK,’ I said, defeated, ‘I’ll tell you everything.’ And so I did. Well, sort of.
I told her how I’d met someone that I really liked and that we’d been spending some time together. I’d been worried that she would be worried if I told her about it and I wanted to keep it a secret because I didn’t want everyone to know. I figured that it was just easier to lie than tell the truth. I missed out the part about Rex being a twenty-six-year-old DJ with his own moped, though, because I knew she’d totally freak – and I was in enough trouble already.
‘Why didn’t you just tell me you’d met someone?’ Ellie asked when I had finished, her voice softening slightly. ‘I wouldn’t have minded you spending some time with a lad. Anyway who is he? I suppose you were with him last night?’
‘Yes,’ I said weakly.
‘All night?’
I nodded. There was no point in lying any more. I was too tired.
‘But we just fell asleep, honestly,’ I added. ‘I’m sorry. I know I should’ve just told you the truth from the start.’
Ellie looked at me mournfully and shook her head. ‘I trusted you, Iz,’ she said, ‘brought you out here, with my friends on my holiday because you’re always going on and on about how much you want to be included and be grownup and . . . and . . . then you disappear for hours on end every day and I realise you’ve been lying to me about where you’ve been and who you’ve been with.’
‘Are you going to tell Mum about this?’ I asked, pathetically.
‘I haven’t decided yet,’ she answered crisply. ‘I was so worried. I’d tried to call you on your mobile a dozen times to see if you wanted to come with us to a beach barbecue, but it just kept going straight to voicemail. So I went down to reception and asked them what apartment that Edie girl and her family were in and I was so shocked when they told me that they had already flown back to England. I panicked and suddenly had all these horrible thoughts of you lying in a ditch somewhere; raped, murdered – anything!’ Ellie was pacing the room, waving her arms manically. ‘Why didn’t you want me to know that you’d met someone? Is he a criminal? A drug-dealer or something?’
‘No!’ I said, choking back the sobs. ‘He’s amazing and kind and gentle and loving. He respects me and says he loves me and I believe him, but he’s, well, a bit older than me and I didn’t think you’d approve.’
‘Older?’ Ellie said, frowning, ‘How much older?’ Her voice was high-pitched and angry now and my head started to hurt.
‘He’s twenty-six,’ I sighed, and it was a relief to have finally said it out loud, to tell the truth.
‘Twenty-six?’ she said, as she fell on to the bed in shock.
‘And he’s got a moped and he’s a DJ,’ I said quickly, because I thought if I said it fast enough she might not hear.
‘A DJ? And I suppose you’ve been on his moped?’
‘His name’s Rex and yes, I have, a few times,’ I said, remorsefully.
She seemed more composed now and I sensed that she knew I was finally telling the truth.
‘Do you mean Rex ‘The Dex’, the DJ from Café Del Sol?’ She looked at me, eyes wide with horror, but somewhere, blink and you’d have missed it, I was sure I saw a flash of something else – admiration perhaps?
‘That’s him,’ I said, wishing he could just zip right up on his moped so I could ride off with him and not have to face any of this.
‘Right! I know where to find him and when I do, I’m going to kill him,’ she said in her scary calm voice again. ‘You’re only sixteen years old, for Christ’s sake! I mean, what’s he playing at? He’s older than Tom! Is he some kind of cradle-snatcher or something?’
This was exactly the type of reaction I had feared most and I broke down in tears.
‘He doesn’t know I’m only sixteen,’ I whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.
Ellie sat there on the bed, staring at me in disbelief.
‘You didn’t tell him you were only sixteen? Why, Izzy?’ she said, her face all screwed up. ‘What’s happened to you, Izzy?’
‘What do you care?’ I said, becoming angry now. ‘You’ve hardly complained about me going off with Edie. You’ve been far too busy going clubbing and having a good time with your friends. I’m sure the only reason you brought me here on holiday here was because Mum made you.’ I knew I was being horrible but I couldn’t stop myself.
‘That’s just not true, Iz,’ Ellie said, looking deeply wounded. ‘I only seemed happy to let you go off with that Edie girl because I thought that’s what you wanted. I would’ve been just as happy spending some time with you. That’s why I wanted you to come out here in the first place – so we could be together.’
A wave of shame washed over me as I tried to blink back the tears.
‘Why didn’t you tell him you were only sixteen?’ she asked. So I explained. And this time I didn’t leave anything out.
I poured my heart out to her, telling her about the time Rex and I had first met and the day we spent together on the beach; I told her about the stars and the butterfly and the hippy market, and I showed her my little bracelet that jingle
d slightly whenever I moved; I explained how much I loved him and that I had never, ever in all my life felt so deeply about another person and that, as far as I was concerned, age was just a number anyway. I told her I was frightened he wouldn’t want anything to do with me if I told him the truth, but it had all got so out of hand and before I knew it I had reached the point of no return.
‘He needs to know the truth,’ she said, after I had finished.
‘I will tell him,’ I promised, ‘and then I can be with him properly.’
‘What do you mean, properly?’ Ellie said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
‘I’m going to stay here in Ibiza with him – for good,’ I said, unquestionably. Suddenly I had never felt so sure about anything in my life before. It was a moment of clarity where everything just clicked into place, and saying it aloud brought with it a soothing calmness.
Despite the confusion and chaos of the past two weeks, one thing was clear above everything: I loved Rex, and, as much as I had to pinch myself to believe it, he loved me too and we had to be together. I realised he might be angry with me for not coming clean about my age from the off but now, after everything, the unbreakable bond I felt we had made, I was sure it would be irrelevant. It didn’t matter how long you’d lived, but how you’d lived. Our love knew no boundaries. Sixteen or sixty, we were so close and in love – and that was what counted.
‘Oh don’t be so naïve, Izzy,’ Ellie scoffed, almost laughing. ‘You’ve obviously looked into the fact that you’ll have to travel to the Interior and Justice Central Department in Madrid and provide documentary evidence that you have a source of income before they’ll give you a visa and residency, hmm?’ I knew she was quoting some kind of bureaucratic legal guff to me, but I didn’t care. It was simple to me: I wanted to stay here with him; and I would do whatever it took, even if it meant travelling to Madrid by donkey.
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