Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1)

by Michelle J. Bennett

  ‘Hi, you’re spot on time!’ she says, clutching her handbag on her lap and straightening her skirt beneath her.

  ‘You look lovely,’ he says, ‘very “surf chick”!’

  ‘Thanks! Although, I must tell you now, I’m not a big fan of surf chicks!’

  He looks at her quizzically as he pulls slowly away from the curb.

  ‘My ex had an affair with a surfer, much younger than myself as it happens!!’ she shakes her head and smiles, ‘you weren’t to know!!’

  ‘Well, all I can say is that he must have been mad to have let you go,’ Marcos frowns, focusing on the road, ‘Is he still with her?’

  ‘No, it was a “fling” apparently, or “flings”, I found out through a friend of mine. She knew weeks before but he had threatened her to keep her mouth shut.’

  ‘Nice guy! Is he violent?’ He glances at Isabel with a concerned look on his face.

  ‘No, not at all. My friend, Claire, is gay. She didn’t want anyone to know yet. We live in a small village. Well, you know what people are like.’

  ‘Woah, what a bastard... so then you ran into a car??!’ he looks down at her, a look of amused confusion on his face.

  ‘It sounds crazy when you put it like that,’ she laughs, hiding her face in her hands, ‘I found out from Claire over the phone. She had finally plucked up the courage to tell me, but I got the wrong end of the stick,’ she flinches at the memory of how she had ripped into her, ‘I was so upset that I just found myself running away from Paul in such a blind rage, then... bang!’

  ‘And all this was just three weeks ago?’

  ‘Yep!’ she smiles, ‘we Brits are mental; you should know that?!!’

  ‘So, has he been in touch since?’ he continues to interrogate, as they leave the main road and head up towards the mountains.

  ‘We’ve been in touch, just by text. I said that we’d talk when I got back,’ she mumbles, feeling stupid as she realises how that must sound, ‘I haven’t said that I’ve forgiven him or anything but I think that I might have given him the wrong impression,’ she adds quickly, ‘...I do still have feelings for him.’ She blushes and plays with the strap on her leather handbag. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have given him so much hope. I’m a long way off forgiving him for what he did.’

  Marcos glances over at her and see’s the confusion and hurt in her eyes. He suddenly feels very protective over the lovely, vulnerable girl beside him and vows secretly to keep her safe.

  Isabel takes in the scenery around her, avoiding his penetrating look of concern. The mountains are like nothing she has ever seen. Dark, almost purple in the evening light, the shadows in the ravines looking like creases in a full skirt. She thinks how she would love to climb up there, and wonders even if it were possible.

  ‘It’s so different up here,’ she says, ‘and we’re only ten minutes’ drive away from the coast!’

  ‘You’re right,’ he agrees, obviously very proud of where he lives. ‘I don’t think I could live down there now,’ he nods in the direction of Torremolinos. ‘I enjoy the peace and quiet too much and the views, of course, are fantastic. You can watch people and see the glimmering lights in the evenings, without actually having to be a part of it all,’ he adds, as she feels him physically relax. ‘Leanne prefers life down there! Maybe I’m getting old,’ he laughs, and slows the car down to a smooth stop, pulling out a little remote from the glove compartment above her knees. He presses the button and the gates in front of them open to reveal a long gravel driveway, leading up to a house in the distance, surrounded by the most luscious, tropical garden. There are trees that she doesn’t recognise. Amongst them, she notices orange- and lemon- trees, olive trees, and huge Aloe Vera. In the middle of this paradise, as they make their way slowly up the drive, she glimpses the shimmering turquoise water of a pool surrounded by palms and sun loungers.

  ‘Oh... my...’ she chuckles, covering her mouth with both hands, unable to find the words to describe her feelings.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she whispers eventually, as Marcos parks the car in front of a large, white single storey house with a detached double garage and separate built-in barbecue and chill-out area. The terrace roof is covered in terracotta tiles, supported by six square pillars, providing welcome shade from the afternoon sun. At one end there is, what she can only describe as, an outdoor lounge area with white sofas. At the other end a large, rustic wooden dining table with six chairs and Moroccan-style coloured glass lanterns.

  She hopes that she isn’t gaping too much as she steps out onto the stones, ‘outdoor living is something that we just don’t have the weather for in the UK, I suppose!’ she muses, ‘you must spend most of your time out here on the terrace. Who needs a house?!’

  Marcos laughs and leads Isabel into the shade of the terrace, ‘most of the year’ he says casually, ‘although it can get very cold in the winter you know? Not freezing, but enough to drive you inside to the warmth of the open fire.’

  ‘I can’t think of anything nicer. How long have you lived here?’ she asks, looking out over the pool, trying not to let her mind wander back to Friday evening.

  ‘Eight years now. I lived with my parents when I first came back to Spain, eleven years ago,’ he says, walking over to join Isabel at the edge of the terrace. ‘Their house is so big that we could pretty much live independently anyway and, to be honest, it gave me time to set up my business,’ he smiles modestly. ‘Would you like a drink?’ he asks, wandering over to the house and sliding open the patio door. Isabel follows him and steps into a huge, modern, open plan kitchen-diner with an archway leading into a cosy looking lounge.

  ‘Oh, it’s so lovely and cool in here,’ she sighs, placing her handbag on the back of one of the chairs at the breakfast bar.

  ‘Couldn’t live without aircon in the summer,’ he smiles widely, opening the fridge and examining its contents.

  ‘I’m presuming you’d like a cold drink rather than coffee?’ he asks, filling a little ceramic painted bowl with plump green olives.

  ‘Yes please. Anything cold,’ she answers, feeling strangely formal. She was going to ask for fizzy water but when he takes out a chilled bottle of Chardonnay she finds herself accepting gratefully. The alcohol will help me to relax, she thinks. If only Rachel were here to tell her how to behave!

  She follows Marcos out onto the shady terrace and they settle themselves on one of the outdoor sofas. Isabel lets her flip flops fall to the floor and she folds her legs under her, desperately hoping that it makes her look cool and relaxed!

  ‘Here’s to reunited friends,’ Marcos exclaims, holding up his glass of wine and handing her hers.

  ‘Salud’, she says.

  ‘Oh, so you haven’t forgotten all of your Spanish then, Señorita Marsh!’ he smiles.

  ‘The important stuff,’ she giggles, taking a sip of wine, ‘like ordering food and drinks. Survival skills, you know!’

  Marcos sits forward on the sofa, laughing softly, looking down at the floor between his feet.

  ‘Look,’ he says suddenly in a serious voice, ‘I want to say sorry for Leanne’s behaviour on Friday night. I have never seen her like that before.’ He shakes his head in shame, running the tip of his index finger around the rim of his glass. ‘I’ve told her that I don’t want to see her for a few days. To be honest, I saw a side of her that I really don’t like, Isa.’ He looks sad, his eyes still fixed on his wine.

  ‘There’s no harm done Marcos, honestly,’ Isabel says brightly, ‘I bet she’s sitting at home now regretting everything she said and did. She’ll be desperate to make it up to you.’ I hope so, for his sake, she thinks.

  ‘Do you really think so?’ Marcos asks as he looks up at Isabel, searching her eyes for reassurance.

  ‘Definitely,’ she answers as confidently as she can, leaning forward and patting his knee like a good friend. She prays, for Marcos’s sake, that Leanne has seen sense and given up the man she and Rachel had seen her with. As much as she would love to
claim this beautiful man for herself, she would never split them up intentionally. Besides, they may have even been wrong about Leanne’s relationship with this other man. Very unlikely Isabel thinks, judging by that romantic display at the beach bar the other night...

  ‘Everyone deserves a second chance,’ she adds quietly, thinking about Paul.

  ‘I’ll give her a call tomorrow and see what she has to say,’ he says, seemingly happier and more confident.

  They both sit back on the sofa and Isabel rests her head back on the cool, comfortable fabric, glad that the ice has been broken between them. She is taken by surprise when he suddenly asks quietly, looking out onto the lawn in front of him, ‘have you ever thought about what it might have been like if we’d got together?’

  Isabel is silent for a few seconds as she gazes up into the mountains, watching the tiniest little puff of cloud float over the summit and evaporate. ‘I vowed I’d come and find you as soon as I was eighteen,’ she smiles, pulling her legs underneath her and taking a sip of wine, ‘but I suppose it just wasn’t the right time for us,’ she adds shyly, looking across at his profile. ‘I went to college, then to Uni, and by then I had met Paul and it all seemed so long ago.’

  ‘Did you ever think of me?’ he asks, looking over at her, seeing the girl she had been, when he had last seen her all those years ago.

  ‘Of course I did,’ she answers quietly, smiling briefly at his upturned face, ‘but I never even knew where you were and I would have felt foolish asking my father.’ She pauses and pops a juicy green olive into her mouth. ‘You? Did you ever think of me after you left?’ she asks, helping herself to another olive, trying to keep the conversation as casual as possible.

  ‘I threw myself into my work when I came back here,’ he replies, bending one leg up onto the sofa, turning to face her, ‘I heard your news from my parents occasionally of course. I must confess, I heard all about Paul and how you had moved in together. Your parents were delighted for you,’ he continues, pulling at a loose piece of cotton on the hem of his trousers, ‘I suppose at that point, I gave up hope, really, and decided that it was time I settled down myself.’

  ‘So, you did think of me?!’ sighs Isabel.

  ‘Of course,’ he says, covering her hand with his, looking at her with such tenderness.

  ‘And then you met Leanne,’ she says, as indifferently as she can.

  ‘There were other casual relationships, but nothing serious, until Leanne,’ he pauses, his hand still holding hers, ‘and now you’re single again.’

  The power of this statement is not lost on either of them as Marcos stands to pour them another glass of wine and Isabel perches awkwardly on the edge of the sofa.

  He pulls her up from the sofa with one hand and hands her wine with the other, inviting her to join him for a walk around the garden. The sun is not as strong now and the mountains stand out even more against the deep blue, flawless sky.

  ‘Do you think it’s over for good? I mean, will you forgive him?’ he asks her directly.

  ‘I don’t know, Marcos. I’m not the cheating type you know, and he hurt me badly. I can’t imagine doing something like that to someone you love. I’m not sure if I could trust him again,’ she says honestly, enjoying the cool prickly feeling of the grass on her toes as her feet sink into the lawn. ‘Do you trust Leanne?’

  His answer is immediate and it takes her by surprise. ‘Completely. She’s had plenty of opportunities to see other men, but I trust her totally. I give her the time she needs with her friends. She goes partying with them, she’s young, you know?’

  ‘Only a year younger than me!’ she giggles as she stops and turns, feeling a little tipsy, ‘Can you walk up those mountains?’ she blurts out suddenly.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he answers, with a teasing note in his voice, enjoying seeing her relax. ‘I walk up there often, actually. There are tracks that lead right up to the summit, but you can’t make them out from here.’

  ‘They’re so beautiful,’ she whispers, swaying slightly and moving her feet further apart so that she can gaze up at them without losing her balance.

  ‘I could take you up there next weekend if you like?’ offers Marcos, standing close behind her, almost touching.

  Isabel spins around excitably, nearly knocking his wine out of his hand, ‘Would you? Oh I’d love that!’

  ‘What else do you have planned whilst you’re here,’ he asks, placing the palm of his hand in the small of her back, guiding her back to the terrace.

  ‘Well... I actually got myself a part-time job!’ she smiles up at him, ‘I start tomorrow. A working holiday, so it seems,’ she giggles.

  ‘Really?’ Marcos stops. ‘Where?’

  ‘It was Rachel’s fault,’ she laughs at the memory, ‘she got talking to a man next to her on the plane, “Mr Window Seat”. He turns out to be the Manager of a Language School in Málaga. We met up with him a few days ago and he offered me a job!’ she suddenly finds the situation all very funny but when she looks up at Marcos, he is strangely serious.

  ‘And does he have a real name, this “Mr Window Seat”?!’

  ‘Rafael’ she answers, walking ahead to the terrace, feeling the need to sit down.

  ‘Rafael?’ he calls after her, following her back up to the house, smiling now. ‘I can’t believe it!’ he says, as he collapses back onto the sofa next to her, ‘that’s one of my schools. He told me he’d recruited someone but I obviously didn’t for a minute think it would be you!’ he laughs, ‘well, that’s excellent news. We’ll see more of each other then. I have meetings down there this week with Rafael. We’re oversubscribed this year so need to employ more teachers,’ he smiles, looking very pleased with himself.

  ‘Oh god,’ utters Isabel, muffling her face with a scatter cushion, ‘please don’t say you’ll have to observe me teaching?’ feeling suddenly embarrassed.

  ‘No, no need to worry about that. You’re more than qualified,’ he laughs, pulling the cushion away from her face.

  They are both suddenly distracted by Marcos’s mobile phone vibrating on the glass coffee table in front of them. He picks it up and looks at the name before answering. ‘Leanne,’ he says, in a very matter-of-fact voice.

  Isabel shrugs, leaving the decision up to him. She feels strangely disappointed and betrayed when he hovers his thumb over the green button, ‘one minute, I promise’ he says, and turns and walks over towards the pool. She watches as he paces the lawn, kicking at little tufts with his toe and rubbing the back of his neck.

  Isabel decides to go inside and look for the bathroom to give him some privacy. Through the kitchen she finds a long, wide corridor with several doors. They are all closed apart from one, which is slightly ajar. She pushes it open and finds herself in, what she assumes, is Marcos’s bedroom. It is a very masculine room, dark grey and beige, no feminine touches or signs of “his and hers” bedside tables. The bed is made and everything is immaculate. She wonders if he has a maid.

  Giving into temptation, she walks over to the large fitted wardrobe and slides open the door. There are rows of good quality suits at one end and, at the other end, casual Ralph Lauren shirts, designer rugby shirts and linen trousers. Her biggest surprise is the amount of shoes that he owns, ‘more than the average woman,’ she chuckles.

  She thinks back to the pitiful contents of her own wardrobe and remembers how Paul had said that he had loved the fact that she was so “low maintenance”. She closes the doors, thinking how totally out of place her clothes would look in here. ‘A stupid dream,’ she says out loud to herself.

  She hears a sound outside and turns to get out of the room as fast as possible before Marcos finds her there but, in her panic, she crashes headlong into him at the door.

  ‘Oh god, I’m so sorry’ she says, feeling her face burning with embarrassment, ‘I was looking for the loo.’

  Chapter 30

  ‘Just call him hun,’ says Lucy, brushing Leanne’s hair back from her face, ‘I’ve never seen y
ou this miserable!’

  ‘He told me he didn’t want to see me Luce... but maybe phoning doesn’t count?’

  ‘Look, just try,’ she says, tilting her friend’s chin up so that she can look her directly in the eyes, ‘but tell me one thing. Are you doing this because you really love him? I know that girl really pissed you off at the party but this isn’t a game Lea,’ she adds seriously.

  ‘No, it’s not a game,’ she sniffs, ‘I will not have my man stolen from me by some boring, skinny, raven-haired teacher,’ she spits, brushing her friends hand away.

  ‘But do you want him Lea? I mean, really want him “til death us do part” and all that?’ Lucy stands up and looks down at her friend. ‘What about David? What the hell’s going on there? Tracy at the salon told me,’ she adds, her body language changing from sympathetic to challenging.

  Leanne jumps to her feet, staring at her friend defensively, ‘Oh that was just a bit of fun, for goodness sake Luce, I’m not married yet.’

  ‘So you’re not seeing him anymore?’ Lucy asks.

  ‘Oh Jesus Lucy, who are you Mother bloody Teresa?? I’m sure Marcos has his fun behind my back when I’m out,’ she adds sulkily.

  ‘No Leanne, I don’t believe he does. He’s loyal and trusting and you know it. Come on!!’

  ‘Whose side are you on?!’ Leanne shouts, screwing her hands up into fists by her sides and striding over to the window. She leans her forehead against the cool glass in an effort to calm herself.

  ‘I’m not on anybody’s side,’ says Lucy, sympathetically, ‘I’m just saying that the way you’re acting, you’re going to push him right into the arms of another woman.’

  ‘So you do think there’s something between him and that Isabel?’ she says, spinning around to face her friend.

  ‘No Lea, I don’t. All I’m saying is, that if Marcos finds out that you’re running around with another man, this Isabel will be right there to comfort him. Come on, you’re being paranoid and jealousy does not suit you at all.’ Lucy stops to take in Leanne’s wild eyes and aggressive posture. ‘Seriously Lea, calm down. If I’m completely honest, the woman standing in front of me now is not the woman that Marcos fell in love with. I’m just telling you as a friend,’ she says, lifting her hands in defence.