The knocking came again, a little more loudly.
I rolled off the bed and tried to arrange my face into a normal expression before I opened the door. It was May, my lovely sister, all flushed from her shower and made up beautifully. She smelled of shampoo and baby powder. I saw a flicker of concern cross her face when she saw me, and I smiled, but my lips didn’t feel as if they were in the right place.
‘You’re not ready yet?’ she asked. I looked down at myself. The damp imprint of my bikini was silhouetted on the sundress and I knew my hair must be wild where I’d lain on it. May reached out and smoothed my hair with the palm of her hand. ‘Are you OK, Sarah?’
‘Mmm.’ I nodded brightly. ‘I must’ve dropped off.’
‘You’ve got pillow creases on your cheek.’
‘Sorry.’ I reached up to touch the hot ridges in my skin. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Shhh,’ said May.
She was wearing a floaty, pale-green top over white jeans that were a little on the tight side.
‘You look lovely, May,’ I said. ‘Is it late?’
‘We booked the taxi for eight,’ she said. ‘Remember? So there’s time for a drink in town before the restaurant?’
I remembered.
‘What time is it now?’
‘Quarter to. It’s OK, don’t worry. Neil’s gone down, and if the driver won’t wait we’ll find another. You take your time.’
May walked over to the open window and gazed out at the sunset on the sea. Inside, a mosquito hummed. I reached down to scratch a trio of bites on the back of my left calf, then I opened the wardrobe door and took out a navy maxi-dress. In the mirror fastened to the inside of the door, I could see May, reflected, watching me, rubbing her lower lip with the tip of her index finger like she always did when she was worried.
‘You were thinking about the baby again, weren’t you?’ she asked.
I shook my head. ‘I was dreaming, that’s all.’
‘Has something happened?’
‘No.’
‘You haven’t spoken to Laurie?’
‘No.’
I pulled the damp dress off over my head and folded it over the bed-frame to dry.
‘Did he text you? I thought he might text you. I know you told him to leave you alone but I thought …’
I shook my head.
‘No, he didn’t.’
I turned my back while I took off the bikini top and slipped the blue dress over my head.
‘Well, anyway, you’re looking better,’ May said so brightly that I knew the opposite was true. ‘Are you feeling any better?’
‘I’m fine,’ I said.
‘Sarah …’
‘Honestly, I am.’
‘I shouldn’t have left you by yourself in the garden earlier. I knew I should have stayed with you.’
I wriggled the dress down until it hung properly with the straps crossing my back and sitting in the dip in my shoulders.
‘Actually I was glad you left me. I had a nice time by the pool,’ I said. ‘I swam and I sunbathed. I met some English people.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘A man and his little boy.’
I sensed May tense. I knew what she was thinking: that the man and his child had reminded me of what I had lost. I knew her concern was borne entirely of love, but at the same time I hated being the cause of her anxiety. I carried on quickly, as if the obvious parallel had never entered my mind: ‘He’s not that little, the child, he’s nearly seven. I watched him for a few minutes in the pool while his father took a phone call. He’s called Jamie, the boy.’
‘And what about his mum? Did you meet her?’
‘No, she isn’t with them. Jamie said she’d gone away.’
‘Maybe she’s visiting friends or had to work while they’re on holiday,’ May said.
‘Maybe.’
May stepped back to look at me.
‘You’re a bit burnt,’ she said. She picked up her bag, rummaged inside and passed me the jar of expensive after-sun cream she’d bought in the airport duty-free shop. ‘Use this.’
Obediently, I unscrewed the lid and dipped my finger into the lotion. It was cool and sweet-smelling. I smoothed it on to my sun-hot face, concentrating on the half-circles of parched flesh above and beneath my eyes. I tried to smile at May and this time I must have been more successful because she smiled back at me.
‘I shouldn’t have left you by yourself,’ she said softly. ‘I should have looked after you better.’
CHAPTER FOUR
THE NEXT DAYS passed slowly. During daylight hours, May and I stayed in the hotel grounds. I would have been happy to spend every moment beneath the trees by the pool, but the heat always became too much for May and she didn’t want to leave me on my own so, every afternoon, when she began to puff and flag, we both went inside.
We ate oily fish, olives and tomato salad in the chill of the air-conditioned dining room and then sat on reclining chairs in the deep dappled shade of the terrace, listening to piped music – an Italian tenor singing love songs that we didn’t understand. We sipped iced water, switched away the flies and talked of this and that, nothing much. A large fan blew warm air towards us, turned its face away, and then returned in a soporific rhythm.
As the afternoons wore on, and the heat became a little less intense, May and I followed a steep, winding footpath cut into the cliff at the back of the hotel. It led down between waist-high walls of sharded grey, volcanic rock with little silver and lavender-coloured plants creeping and growing in its crevices to a private bathing area. A wooden platform stuck out over the green-blue sea that lapped against the rockface. The sea was teeming with busy little fish. I liked to sit on the edge of the platform, with my legs hanging down over the cool water, watching the way the sunlight dazzled the waves, its patterns fragmenting and dancing. I liked the smell of the sea and the feel of the lively air immediately above it. May lay on a towel on the platform, reading her book. I stared at the facing coastline across the bay. Sometimes it was very clear, I could make out trees and buildings; at other times the heat haze over the water obscured it from view.
It was so peaceful, and I didn’t have to talk to anyone or explain anything or even think too much about my situation.
May’s husband, Neil, was a journalist with the Manchester-based news and features agency NWM. He had been sent to Sicily to work on the shoot of a drama that was being filmed there. Neil’s role was to interview the stars, the producer and director and write background features to distribute to the media, generating publicity in advance of the film’s release. It was easy for me to be in Sicily with him and May. I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I certainly didn’t want to go home.
Home was the house I shared with Laurie. Home would mean endless talking, negotiations and explanations and, in Laurie’s terminology, turning the spotlight on the issues that were affecting our relationship. He, I knew, would be suffering from a combination of guilt and frustration that would manifest itself in a stream of tiny accusations towards me, pinpricks of anger disguised as expressions of concern. Because, what he would be thinking was that, if I had let him look after me, if I’d shared my feelings with him after the baby, none of this would have happened.
In all the time I was with Laurie, which was all my adult life, I had been regarded more as his girlfriend than as an individual in my own right. We were Laurie-and-Sarah. He didn’t mean to be demanding or controlling, but there was more of him than there was of me. He was older, cleverer, more knowledgeable and gregarious; I was quieter, shyer, less educated, and I was happy to swim in his wake. I couldn’t remember how I was supposed to look, or be, or even what my voice sounded like when I was on my own, without him. Laurie had always looked after me and looked out for me, but something changed after our son was stillborn. I hadn’t wanted to analyse my feelings as he did; I’d just wanted to be left alone. And he, feeling abandoned, had turned to Rosita.
I was too tired to deal with Laurie. Sicil
y felt safe. It felt distant. It felt like a bubble, and I would have been happy to stay there for ever.
CHAPTER FIVE
THEN SUDDENLY EVERYTHING changed. The lead in the film Neil was working on collapsed on set and was hospitalized. The official line was that he had suffered heat stroke but Neil suspected it was more serious than that. The actor was flown back to America, the film was put on hold and Neil was free to go back to Manchester.
That meant May and I would have to leave, too. We only had a few days left, and Sicily became even more precious to me. I could not bear the thought of leaving.
On one of our last evenings we decided, for a change, to eat at the hotel. May and I went down together. The terrace was illuminated by fairy lights and candles in the necks of empty wine bottles centred on the tables. Large, pale moths danced in the areas of light and then disappeared. The swimming pool glowed an artificial blue in the black garden and far away across the bay the lights of isolated villas and farms twinkled like stars. I stood for a moment and gazed out. Moonlight trickled on the sea and a small boat bobbed along the coastline, dropping nets by lamplight.
Neil was waiting for us at our table. He stood when he saw us and smiled.
‘Hello, you,’ he said, and he stepped forward to take my sister’s hands. They kissed quietly, and without fuss, and I looked at my feet.
When they drew apart they were still smiling into each other’s eyes like lovers who hadn’t seen one another for years, rather than the twenty minutes or so they had been apart. It wasn’t their fault, but their intimacy humiliated me.
We sat down, scraping the metal feet of the chairs on the paving slabs. Within moments, a waiter was at our table, putting down a chilled glass jug of iced water, a little wicker basket of bread and a bowl of flavoured olives.
‘How did work go?’ I asked Neil. ‘Did you get everything you needed?’
‘More or less.’ He pulled a sardonic expression. May and I exchanged smiles. Neil was always self-deprecating but I knew he was good at his job. There was a big demand for the stories he generated, which weren’t always the kind Laurie approved of. Sometimes there had been friction between the two men when they met at family gatherings or social occasions. I’d tried to stay neutral, but had felt I ought to side with Laurie, out of loyalty. Having dinner with Neil every night in Sicily had made me realize what a gentle, funny person he was. I was glad my sister was married to such a lovely man. I wished I’d realized sooner.
He and May began to talk about something else, some friend of theirs who was having family problems. I tried not to listen to their conversation. I concentrated on watching people come and go inside the hotel. My eyes followed an incoming couple, a frail man wearing a fedora and a younger man – his son, perhaps – who accompanied him. They exchanged a few friendly words with the concierge, picked up their key and walked over to the elevator shaft. As they did so the lift doors slid apart. Out stepped a small boy with large ears. It was the little boy from the pool, Jamie. I hadn’t seen him since that day. He was wearing clean but crumpled trousers and a T-shirt that was rather too big for him. He looked as if he had been woken when he would have rather slept on. Behind was his father, wearing jeans and a baggy shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Alexander was followed by a tall, smart, skull-faced man in a cream linen suit who carried, under his arm, a leather case, about the size of a laptop.
The two men stopped in the foyer. The skull-faced man patted Alexander on the back and they spoke privately for another moment, their heads close together, and it was clear from their faces that their discussion was serious. Jamie sank against his father’s thigh and tugged at his shirt. Eventually, the men pulled apart. Alexander took an envelope from his pocket and gave it to the other man. He opened the envelope, looked inside, shook hands with Alexander, ruffled the top of Jamie’s head, and left.
Alexander watched him go and ran a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted. I could see the child’s mouth moving. He pulled his father’s hand in frustration and the man looked down at him as if he had forgotten he was there.
He checked his watch and had a word with the concierge. She gestured towards the garden, suggesting they ate in the hotel restaurant. I watched as they came through the glass doors. The maître d’ went over to them. He shrugged his shoulders apologetically, turned the palms of both hands towards the sky and raised them. What could he do? All the tables were taken or reserved.
I saw Jamie’s face fall. He sank a little into himself. The poor child was tired and hungry, and I couldn’t bear the thought of him having to wait any longer to eat. It was late enough already.
I glanced at May and Neil. I wanted to ask if they’d mind, but they were still engrossed in one another, so I took matters into my own hands. I stood and crossed the terrace, between the tables and the overhanging lights, to where the man and boy stood. I steadied myself against the back of a chair, cleared my throat to attract their attention and said: ‘There’s room at our table. You could join us, if you like.’
Alexander turned to look at me. I could tell from the slight dilation of his eyes that he remembered me. I pressed my fingers into the cool wood of the chair.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Thank you, but no. We’ll walk along the road. We’ll find a pizzeria.’
‘But I’m hungry now,’ said Jamie.
‘There are plenty of places near by.’
The maître d’ raised his eyebrows. The closest restaurant was a couple of kilometres away and the roads were unlit, without pavements, and were racetracks for Sicilian young-bloods in the dark.
‘Dad, my legs are tired.’
Alexander glanced at me then over to our table.
‘We couldn’t intrude …’
‘It would be no intrusion. It’s just me and my sister and brother-in-law.’
He opened his mouth to raise another objection.
‘It’s up to you,’ I said.
The waiter, tactfully, studied the list attached to his clipboard. The boy swung on his father’s hand and pleaded. He said he was going to die of hunger. He said he didn’t want to walk another step. He said Mummy would have given him something to eat by now. That seemed to be the deciding argument.
‘OK,’ said Alexander. ‘If you’re sure, Sarah.’
I was surprised he remembered my name, but I said yes, I was sure, and took them to the table.
May and Neil looked up and exchanged glances as we approached.
I introduced everyone and explained how I had met Alexander and Jamie at the pool and that there was nowhere else for them to sit. May said, as I had known she would, that of course they should join us. She said it would be lovely to have some company for a change. She made such an effort to make Jamie feel welcome that I knew she was thinking about his missing mother, and I wanted to hug her.
May, Neil and I shifted our chairs a little to make room. The waiter brought more cutlery, bread and water and, after a few moments, we all settled in our new places. I felt a little nervous. I sat up very straight and couldn’t think of anything to say.
Jamie slumped down in his chair and put his thumb in his mouth. He seemed different from the self-assured little boy I’d spoken to in the pool, much younger and more vulnerable. Alexander said: ‘He’s ready for bed. It’s my fault – we’ve driven a long way today and we haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast.’
‘Where’ve you been?’ asked Neil.
‘Inland. I had some business to attend to.’
‘Oh yes?’ May asked, but Alexander didn’t elaborate.
‘You’ve been away for a while,’ I said quietly. ‘I haven’t seen you in the hotel.’
Alexander nodded.
‘Over a week,’ he said. ‘But I’ve done all I can now. We’re here to relax for a couple of days before we fly home.’
‘It’s a beautiful spot,’ said Neil.
‘It is.’
‘I’m hungry,’ Jamie whined.
May smiled fondly at the boy and sai
d she always hated it if she didn’t eat, especially after a long drive, and Jamie frowned.
‘I was bored. Dad was talking to this stupid man for ages,’ he said.
‘That’s normally my prerogative,’ Neil said, ‘talking to stupid men.’
‘And I told him I was hungry,’ said Jamie.
May pulled a sympathetic face.
‘But still they kept on talking. And they wouldn’t let me sit with them on the balcony.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘They were drinking beer. And the man was smoking. My mummy says smoking makes you die.’
‘Eat some bread,’ Alexander said. ‘Here, you can dip it in the oil.’
‘I don’t like oil.’
May smiled.
‘You’re here on your own?’ she asked innocently.
Alexander nodded.
The table shook. Jamie was swinging his feet, kicking the table leg.
‘Jamie, stop that,’ said Alexander.
‘Mummy’s gone away,’ Jamie said. ‘She went away and she hasn’t come back.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ May said.
‘She didn’t want to live with Dad any more because he was so mean to her. That’s what my Grandma Ginny says.’
Alexander put his hand on Jamie’s knee.
‘Stop it,’ he said, more sharply.
‘And now Daddy’s always cross and we never have proper dinner and everything’s shit.’
‘Enough.’
Just one word, and Alexander did not raise his voice but he said it with such authority that I caught my breath. There was a silence. Even the insects seemed to go quiet. Jamie stopped kicking and looked up at his father. The man looked down at the boy. They held one another’s gaze. I hoped the child was not going to cry. I noticed Alexander’s fingers were trembling, casting shaky shadows on Jamie’s knees.
‘What shall we have?’ May asked breezily. ‘I fancy a pizza.’
During the meal, Neil and Alexander talked about their work. Neil played down the high-profile aspects of his career to draw out Alexander, who told us he was a stonemason who ran his own business. He shared Neil’s passion for geology and they had a mutual admiration for many of the classical Greek and Roman architects. They discussed the ancient buildings on Ortygia, and Alexander was interested in hearing which had been modified with false façades or other artifices for the film. I tried to engage Jamie, but he made it clear he did not want to talk to me. Still, it gave me pleasure to watch him eat. He wolfed down his pasta and then fell asleep, curled up like a puppy in his chair, orange-coloured sauce smears all over his cheeks and chin. Alexander covered him with his fleece and then he and Neil resumed their conversation.
The Secrets Between Us Page 2