Captive Hearts

by Harper Bliss

  “Are you sure? I hate drinking alone.” Joy has taken off her top again, claiming that tan lines are ‘so nineties’.

  “I’m positive.” Between slumbers, I’ve seen her dive in and push herself out of the pool, and I guess I’m becoming used to her state of undress. It seems to bother me less and less. “I’m going to dress for dinner.”

  “There’s really no need. It’s just us and I’m not planning on putting on my dinner jacket.”

  “Need or not,” I push myself out of my sun lounger, “it’s how I like it.”

  In my room, I peel my bathing suit off me, and ponder wearing the bikini I brought tomorrow. I look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m certainly in much better shape than Miranda. I never understood how other people can be so careless with their bodies, drinking countless units of alcohol, eating fried food, and failing to exercise at least four times a week.

  “I don’t have time to occupy myself with all of that, Alice,” Miranda said once when I had questioned her about the topic. “I have a bloody life to live.”

  Joy, who seems to easily slip into a southern European lifestyle, has consumed at least three G&Ts—as far as I can tell—by the time she serves dinner at ten to nine. By then, I’ve sat at the table in linen trousers and a freshly-ironed top for an hour and a half, patiently waiting while sipping sparkling water.

  “Here you go, Madam,” she says, as she plants a—I must admit—divine looking plate of food in front of me. “Salmon à la Jamie Oliver with crushed potatoes and minted greens.”

  “You’re quite the little chef.” I look into Joy’s brown eyes for an instant and see no evidence of the three cocktails she has already consumed.

  “Can I serve you some chilled white wine with that? It’s a local one. Very easy on the palate.”

  Despite myself, and my reluctance to drink anything but water, I chuckle at the mock-posh tone of her voice.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Joy heads back inside and brings out a bottle of wine stuffed into a cool bag.

  “You’re a really bad influence on me.” While I take a sip of the wine I look into her eyes again and see how they glimmer with mischief.

  “You have enough margin of error for that. I hardly think you’ll leave here a bad girl, Alice.” Joy holds my gaze for a few seconds. I can’t help but smile again.

  “This is absolutely delicious. Who taught you how to cook?”

  “Certainly not Mum. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with Dad before he got too sick. After that, I guess I just taught myself. There are entire YouTube channels dedicated to teaching people how to cook. Countless apps with recipes. I sometimes wonder how anyone learned in the olden days.”

  “The olden days? You mean when I was younger?” By now, I know she’s goading me, and I play along.

  “Well, you didn’t have the internet when you were learning how to cook.”

  “We didn’t have it and we didn’t need it. How many hours today did you spend glued to your mobile phone? It seemed as though every time I opened my eyes, you were entranced by it.”

  “Checking up on me, were you?”

  It’s sudden remarks like this that make me feel most ill at ease. Nevertheless, I raise my eyebrows and wait for her response.

  “I can tell you exactly because there is an app for that.” Joy reaches for her phone, touches the screen a few times, then shows it to me. “Two hours and forty-five minutes,” she says. “A bit much, I must admit, but I am on holiday and Candy Crush isn’t going to play itself.” She puts her phone to the side. “Maybe I’ll go on a digital fast. But then you will have to entertain me, Alice. You can start by picking up the story about Alan where you left it last night.”

  “I’m afraid I have no recollection of that,” I lie. During the course of the afternoon, snippets of conversation have come back to me.

  “You can’t fool me. Granted, you can’t hold your liquor, but you didn’t drink that much.”

  “Maybe not, but I really don’t feel like devoting any more time to talking about my ex-husband.”

  “Fair enough.” For a good few minutes, the only sounds are made by us eating. Since she arrived and we’ve been in each other’s company, I haven’t known her to be quiet for this long.

  “I’d react the same way if you asked me about my ex. Alex is one of the reasons I wanted to come down here, away from everything and everyone in London.”

  Miranda never mentions Joy’s boyfriends, so this is the first I hear about Alex. “Did he leave you for someone half his age as well?”

  Joy huffs out a breathy chuckle. “Hardly.” She puts down her fork. “And Alex is not a he. All woman last time I checked.”

  “Oh.” Now I’m truly stumped. I have known Miranda for thirty years. We’ve been business partners for twenty-five. Never has she given me the slightest tidbit of information about her only child’s sexual preference.

  “You didn’t know?” Joy falls back into her chair, an amused smile playing on her lips. “That doesn’t surprise me. She hasn’t fully accepted it yet. I really don’t know why she has such a hard time with it. To her credit, I only came out two years ago, and sometimes it takes time for parents to readjust their ideas about their children and their dreams for them. I do get that.” The carefreeness that has characterised Joy’s tone of voice seems to have disappeared for the first time. She pulls up her shoulders. “For now, she just refuses to talk about it, but I think she’ll come round in the end.”

  “I’m so sorry. I had absolutely no idea.”

  “We haven’t fallen out. I mean, she still does my laundry every week for Christ’s sake. She’ll wash my knickers but won’t talk about my love life. How’s that for good old Britishness?”

  “Were you and, uh, Alex together for a long time?”

  “Nah, just a few months. It was never going to be serious. I’m not that cut-up about it, either way. I just needed a break from everything. Clear my head before I start this new job, you know?”

  I nod, despite not knowing at all.

  “So, thank you very much for allowing me to come over. Did Mum have to be very persuasive? I know you value your privacy. I want you to know that I really appreciate you letting me crash your holiday.”

  “I was reluctant at first. I’ve lived alone for a very long time and am quite set in my ways, but it’s quite… fun to have you around.” I’m surprised by my own words. Perhaps Joy’s tiny display of vulnerability has increased my liking of her. And she has utterly spoiled me today.

  “How about some night swimming then?”

  “What?” She keeps doing this, keeps springing the most improbable suggestions on me when I least expect it.

  “That’s why I don’t bother dressing up for dinner. The lure of the water is too great after dark. We can take a torch and head over to the beach. I promise you, it’ll be glorious.”

  “Erm, I really don’t think so, Joy.” I start collecting our plates.

  “Just come with me to the beach then. It’s so special this time of the day. So quiet, and I know just the spot for some privacy. I’ve been coming here a long time. I want to show you. It’ll be an adventure.” Joy quirks her eyebrows into a strangely touching quizzical shape. She has my sympathy now, and I find it hard to say no.

  “Fine, but I’m not going into the water.”

  * * *

  The short-cut to the beach proves to be an uneven dirt path full of dangerously loose stones and tricky little dips. En route, I scold myself for being so unwise as to being fooled into doing this after dark. Joy uses her phone as a guiding light while I carefully pick my way to the beach with a proper torch—although the illumination it provides is not nearly enough for the rough terrain I find myself on.

  “Almost there,” Joy says. She’s leading the way, balancing a beach bag with a couple of towels and a bottle of wine she insisted on taking. She’s wearing a bright white t-shirt with nothing underneath and a pair of bikini bottoms. I’m still in my dinner outfit f
rom earlier.

  Just as extreme fatigue, a leftover from this morning’s hangover, hits me, Joy stops, and says, “Ta-dah!”

  But it’s too dark to see anything, really, except black sea on black beach. I’m not immediately sure what is so spectacular about this. Watching Joy dart onto the beach also makes me wonder what the hell I’m doing here. This is something young people do, when they are still brazen and spontaneous. I haven’t been either in a very long time.

  Still, I’m here now. So I follow Joy onto the beach. My sandals instantly fill with sand—and I remember why I’m not a beach person. When I reach the spot where Joy has set up camp, two towels spread out next to each other, she’s already taking off her top.

  Just as she tosses her t-shirt onto the towel, she glares at me, her eyes shiny in the night, and says, “I’m doing you a courtesy, Alice. When there’s absolutely no one around like tonight, I’d usually take off my bottoms as well.”

  “Well, then,” is all I can say.

  “Do yourself a small favour,” Joy continues, “roll up those trousers and at least dip your toes in the water.” She cocks her head and stands there looking at me for an instant, her hands at her waist. Her chest rises and falls quickly.

  “All right.” Because what else am I going to do? Sit here on my own in the dark?

  Joy doesn’t wait for me. In a flash, she’s off, out of my sight, swallowed by the darkness of the night.

  I roll up my trousers, as instructed, take the torch, and head towards the water. The roar of the waves drowns out any other sound there might be, but it’s just us here tonight, and I let my torch train over the water, looking for Joy. She’s diving into the waves, pinching her nostrils shut with her fingers as she goes under, doing a somersault before emerging from the sea. Perhaps I’m in a poetic mood, but the image strikes me as one of pure, uninhibited happiness. I remember myself at twenty-nine—already so serious, so consumed with work. I would never have ducked into a wave like that.

  Joy has had enough of somersaulting and heads towards me. The closer she gets, the less of her is covered by the water, and the sight of her shocks me. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before—Joy all wet, drops of water raining down her bare breasts. But the emptiness of the beach, and the water immersing my ankles and then retreating, the repetitive motion of it somehow soothes me. And that funny feeling, one I haven’t experienced in decades, when a hangover is finally flushed from the body. The unexpected pleasure I’ve taken in Joy’s company. All of these strangely converge within me and make my stomach tingle. As if the sight of Joy walking towards me like that is one I’ve been waiting for my entire life. Embarrassed, I look away, and gaze at the stars, which are plenty, while I wait for this foolishness to flee my brain.

  “Aren’t you bummed that you didn’t bring your bathing suit now?” Joy presses water drops from her long hair with a backwards movement of her hands, pushing her chest forward.

  “Hm,” I hum, trying to hide my discomfort.

  “Just take off your clothes, Alice. There’s no one here. I won’t look, I promise.” She shoots me a wink, and I’m not the sort of person who can respond to this playfully.

  “I think I’ll head back. You enjoy yourself.”

  “What? No. No, no, no.” Joy takes a few more steps towards me, the water splashing up around her legs. “Stay. I lugged that bottle of wine all the way down here. You know I hate drinking alone.”

  “I’m very sorry, Joy. I’d really rather head back. I’m tired. I want to go to sleep.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  It’s absurd to have this conversation here, both our feet in the water, waves rolling in around us. “Nothing.” But I can’t stay. Not after that unsettling sense of losing control over something I’ve been holding onto—perhaps ever since Alan left me, or perhaps since forever—sneaked up on me.

  “I’ll go back with you then. Just let me dry off.”

  “No, really, it’s fine.” I need to be alone. Walk it off. Have the house to myself for a little while—at least long enough to shake this off without Joy’s noises filtering through my bedroom wall.

  “Be careful then.” Joy touches her fingertips to my upper arm. It’s the second time today she has done something like that. I’m not used to that at all.

  “I will. Good night.” I turn around, secretly dreading the walk back on my own, but I don’t have a choice now.

  Chapter Five

  When I hear the knock on my door at a quarter past nine, I have been awake for hours, but I have been afraid to get up and face Joy.

  “Alice? Are you awake?”

  I shuffle upwards, straightening my nightie. “Yes. Not to worry,” I shout.

  “Can I come in?”

  I cover as much of myself as I can with the sheet. “Sure, but I’m fine.”

  The door opens and Joy’s head peeks through. “Do I owe you an apology? Was it something I said or did?” She accompanies her words with a goofy grin. “I shouldn’t have insisted you take off your clothes. I realise that now.” She pushes the door open farther and leans against the frame. She’s wearing a flimsy tank top, barely worth the name, that covers only her breasts and nothing of her belly. Her skin has already turned darker, and it seems to shine with youth.

  “Always the uptight one,” I joke, desperate to change the topic. “Does your offer to show me around still stand? I would love to explore the area a bit.”

  “Yes! I know just where to take you. Are you okay to drive? I know myself. I’ll want to have a drink on the way and I don’t want to chauffeur you around when I do.”

  “No problem.”

  “Eggs?”

  “I can make my own, but thank you for asking.”

  “Let’s aim to leave around eleven? There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen.”

  * * *

  “You’re one of Mum’s very best friends, yet I hardly know you,” Joy says, while fiddling with her phone, trying to connect it to the car’s bluetooth system.

  We’ve been driving for a good half hour on our way to Sagres and all the radio stations quickly proved inadequate for Joy.

  “Ah! I think it’s working. What are you in the mood for? Some Bruce Springsteen?”

  I shoot Joy a glance. I had expected her to just put on some deafening dance music.

  “I happen to love Bruce Springsteen.”

  “Yeah?” There’s surprise in her voice. “What’s your favourite album?”

  “Nebraska,” I say, without hesitation.

  “Gloomy.” Within seconds, the mouth organ of the album’s title song starts playing.

  “You have my favourite record readily available on your phone?”

  “What can I say? I like old things,” Joy says.

  I have my eyes focused on the road, but I can hear the smile in her voice. “Mind you, if you’d requested Neil Diamond or Tom Jones, I wouldn’t have complied so easily.”

  “Decidedly too sappy.”

  “I’m so glad we agree.” Joy puts her phone in the space between our seats and her elbow briefly brushes against mine. “But back to my earlier question. How come you hardly ever came round when I was still living with Mum?”

  I sigh. “I did. In the beginning. But after my divorce, Miranda got obsessed with setting me up with one of her friends, kept inviting me round for dinner parties I was loathe to attend, so I just stopped coming, I guess.”

  “Oh Christ. Who did she thrust in your face? Wait… let me guess. Lionel? She’s been trying to pawn him off for as long as I can remember.”

  “Lionel Ashley. That’s correct. A nice enough man, but really not my type. In any way.”

  “Really, Alice? The man has such a lovely high-pitched voice, and that head of lush hair. How could you possibly have resisted?” Joy’s laugh is infectious.

  Once she has settled down, I continue my explanation. “Then Miranda started seeing Jeff and there were fewer and fewer dinner parties. Either way, we see each other at work every day. There
needs to be some distance.”

  “Hm. Yeah.” Joy turns up the volume dial. “This is truly one of the best songs ever made.”

  “I completely agree.”

  “Have you ever seen him live?” she asks.

  “No. I never was much of a concert goer.”

  “I have. In Atlantic City in 2005. It was just… mind-blowing,” Joy says while her head sways to the melody.

  “You sure do get around.” It’s a pity we’re having this conversation in the car and I need to keep my eyes on the road. I’d love to see Joy’s facial expressions.

  “Well, we all can’t be homebodies like you, Alice. The economy would go bust.”

  “I contribute plenty to the economy.”

  “Oh yeah? When did you last splash out on something?”

  “I’m on holiday in the Algarve,” I retort.

  “That doesn’t count. Surely, Mum didn’t make you pay?”

  “She didn’t. I wanted to, but she refused.” I shake my head. “I contribute to the economy by paying a lot of taxes.”

  “You should spoil yourself more. On their death bed, no one has ever wished they’d worked more.” Joy sounds just like Miranda.

  “That’s a bit grim.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s also true.” A short silence descends. “Take last night, for instance. Why didn’t you join me? Let your hair down a bit? There was no one to judge you but yourself.”

  “Last night…” I try to come up with a decent explanation. “I was tired. And I would never, not in a million years, go into the sea in just my underwear. It’s not even conceivable.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… I’m not that kind of person.”

  “What kind of person? The kind that enjoys life?”

  I make an elaborate play of overtaking a van that has been driving at a maddeningly slow pace in front of us for miles, hoping the topic will just die. I don’t feel like defending myself for simply being who I am.