by Fanny Blake
They continued past stalls selling everything anyone could want. Shouts from the stallholders punctuated the general hubbub of the crowd, but soon they were back in the square and heading to the café where they found Amy deep conversation with Dan. He was standing opposite her, his hands on the back of a chair, looking as if he were saying something important. They looked up as the two women joined them. Dan shook his head. ‘Some women! My sister’s a hard nut to crack.’
‘Don’t say that. I’ve agreed you can stay for a couple of weeks but then I may be back here with the team to look at our current strategies and new design ideas. You’ll have to find somewhere else while they’re here.’
‘They could stay in a hotel.’
‘They could,’ she agreed. ‘But they’re not going to. They always stay at the house. They like it.’
‘And where will I go?’ Dan sounded like an aggrieved child. He tipped back the chair and pulled it towards him, its legs scraping along the ground.
‘Dan! You’re over sixty. You shouldn’t be relying on your sister to provide a roof over your head. Don’t you agree?’ she appealed to Jane and Linda.
‘Don’t answer that!’ Dan’s grin was back. ‘My little sis is right, of course. I’ll move on. Don’t you worry.’ But despite his agreement, there was an edge to his voice.
Jane thought Amy had a fair point but just pulled out a chair and sat beside her in a gesture of moral support that surprised them both.
‘I won’t,’ said Amy. ‘Not even remotely. You’ve survived the last forty years. God knows how. So I dare say you’ll survive the next few. Are you guys ready to go back now? I’ve got some bits and pieces for lunch.’ Amy nodded in the direction of her basket that she had filled with shopping since they last saw her. She stood up and slung it over her shoulder.
‘Let me.’ Dan held out his hand.
Amy laughed. ‘Playing the gent won’t make me change my mind.’ She handed the basket over all the same.
Lunch was a repeat of the previous day. Spicy sobrasada sausage, jamón ibérico and other salami, various cheeses and salad. The lightest of rosé wines for anyone who wanted it (Linda), water and soft drinks. Jane had an iced tea. Afterwards, Amy went to do some urgent work in her study while Dan disappeared to his room muttering the words ‘yoga’ and ‘siesta’.
‘Thank God, he’s gone,’ said Jane. ‘We can talk now he’s not here.’
‘He’s not that bad,’ said Kate.
‘Well you’ve spent the morning with him, so I’d guess you’d know.’ Jane tapped the side of her nose with one finger, teasing. ‘I just meant that we can’t be ourselves and catch up when he’s around.’
‘We were never friends with him before,’ said Linda. ‘You all had a crush on him and would have died if he’d said a word to you.’
‘Not you?’ Jane gazed at her through her dark glasses.
Linda smiled that anxious smile of hers. ‘Yeah, well. Maybe a little.’
‘There must have been other men in your life apart from Mike.’ She wasn’t being intrusive, just friendly.
‘Of course.’ Linda’s face closed up immediately.
‘No one special, though? You haven’t been married? Or got close to it?’ Perhaps the change in Linda was only superficial. They hadn’t been together long enough to know. Perhaps none of them had changed really. She certainly felt the same.
‘Leave the poor woman alone!’ Kate interrupted her. ‘We haven’t come here for the Spanish Inquisition. Why don’t you tell us about your marriages instead?’
Infuriated by Kate’s intrusion, Jane put down her glass ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business, of course. I just thought it was all part of being here and catching up. Shall we go down to the pool instead?’
Jane would never confess to the mess of her own personal life. And if Kate were ever to challenge her publicly, she would deny anything to do with Rick. She was still kicking herself for having said anything. What had made her break all her own rules? When she’d finally got to bed the previous night, she had acknowledged to herself that her secret had become too much of a burden, Offloading it on to someone she could trust was just human, wasn’t it?
Secrets were hard to keep. And she’d kept Rick a secret for years. She could rely on Kate to do the same whatever she thought. On the other hand, life is short. You’ve got to take what you want from it while you can, she reasoned. Why submit to a lacklustre marriage if you can find the lustre that’s lacking somewhere else and make it work with both men. That was a lesson that many people might do well to learn.
‘Why don’t we volunteer our life histories when we’re ready,’ Kate suggested in an obvious attempt to smooth things over. ‘Instead of trying to winkle it out of each other when we’re not ready.’
Without looking up, Linda nodded. She was clearly holding back something. That made two of them. Perhaps things would emerge later over a glass of wine or two. Jane determined not to let down her own guard again.
They spent the rest of the afternoon by the pool, the time drifting by as the three women lay relaxing with their phone, their book or just lying there in the sun.
Eventually Jane stood up, and pushed her hair off her face. ‘When do we have to be ready this evening?’
‘The party’s at seven-thirtyish. Amy said we’d walk into the village afterwards and have dinner there.’
‘I’m going to go inside for a bit, get ready.’ Jane wanted some time out, alone.
‘Do we need to dress up?’ Linda sounded apprehensive.
‘No, surely not. This is Mallorca, not the Riviera.’ An idea struck Jane. ‘Actually I’ve got something that would really suit you. Come and see.’ The top she was thinking of was a mistake, bought in a hurry before a conference in Florida a couple of years back. She didn’t know why she’d brought it with her but it might look different on Linda.
‘I can’t borrow from you,’ Linda protested.
‘Why not? If you like it, you can have it. It’s too big for me really, and it’ll suit you, I promise. Come and look.’
The three of them were gathering up their stuff as Dan emerged from his room. ‘Nothing like a good siesta,’ he said. ‘And now a swim. It’s not a bad life.’
‘We’re going to get ready,’ said Kate as he began to lower his shorts.
Linda cleared her throat and looked at the ground while Jane stared. He was in good shape.
‘You don’t want to come in too?’ His shorts hit the paving.
‘We’ll leave you to it.’ She kept any note of regret out of her voice.
‘As you will.’ He dived in and swam a swift length before coming to the side and resting his arms on the side of the pool. ‘You sure? It’s lovely in.’
Of the four of them gathered in the living room, Jane was pleased to see she had made the most effort. The flouncy dress she’d originally bought for a wedding in the south of France made her feel a million dollars even if it was a little overdressed for the occasion. Amy was wearing a bronze pleated long skirt and cap-sleeved T-shirt with a narrow leather belt. She’d pulled her hair back into a clasp at the back of her head and held a battered panama in her hand. Linda sat awkwardly in the long yellow and white top from Jane’s wardrobe. Kate was in blue with those tassel earrings again – they weren’t to Jane’s taste at all. Tassels! She preferred something more discreet – more gold or precious stone.
‘That suits you,’ Amy said to Linda. ‘You look like the old Linda. You should wear bright colours more often.’
Linda looked surprised and sat a little straighter. ‘Thanks.’ Her hands knotted and unknotted in her lap.
‘Told you.’ Jane smiled. ‘A bit of colour makes all the difference.’
‘If we’re all present and correct, shall we go?’ Dan appeared, his ponytail neatly curling at his neck, a loose collarless shirt over his shorts and flipflops.
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Along the drive and a little way down the road they came to another open gate. Two oriental stone dragons sat on the top of the gateposts, tongues out. A ceramic tile on one of the posts read Casa Olivo. Along the driveway, candles in storm lanterns lit the way even though it wasn’t yet dark and fairy lights adorned the olive trees. The sound of a guitar came from somewhere ahead of them. Excited, Jane followed Dan and Kate, eager to see where they had come to.
The driveway widened into a generous space where a couple of cars were parked under two palm trees. At first glance, the house was more modern than Amy’s, though built in the same stone with the same deep green shutters. Just one storey for the most part gave way to a second at one end. At the open front door of the house, a waiter, in cream shorts and white shirt, stood holding a tray laden with glasses of champagne. Opposite him, a firebrand illuminated the entrance. Just then, a distinguished-looking man came from the house towards them. His face was expressive, extraordinarily lined, and he was smiling in welcome.
‘Dan! I didn’t know you were here.’ He grasped Dan’s hand with both of his, before looking at the two women. ‘No Amy?’
‘I’ve just arrived.’ Dan pulled his hand away, holding it out towards his companions. ‘Meet Jane and Kate, two of Amy’s old schoolfriends. She’s right behind us.’ He stood to one side. ‘Let me introduce William Amos.’
‘Welcome, everyone. Come in.’ William gestured at the drinks tray with well-manicured hands. ‘Help yourself.’
They took their drinks and followed him into a vast open-plan living room.
‘Wow!’ Jane said under her breath to Kate. ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’
The furnishings were elegant, the typical white walls with wooden beams crossing the ceiling. Wall alcoves held exquisite pieces of sculpture, subtly lit. The lighting was intimate, but what made the room special was the wall on the far side where glass doors were folded right back. Beyond, the party was taking place on a wide covered terrace that gave on to a lush-looking lawn. Lanterns hung in the trees and lights were staked in the pots planted with cacti and palms.
‘Dan! We haven’t seen you for ages’ A guy homed in on Dan immediately. ‘Julia’s here. She’ll be so pleased to see you. Julia! Look who’s here!’ As he was led away, Dan sent an apologetic look over his shoulder as he left Jane and Kate on their own.
‘We meet again.’ Brendan was undeterred by Jane’s frostiest glare. ‘Looking forward to the boat tomorrow? It’s going to be another lovely day.’
‘Have we a definite arrangement?’ Jane turned to Kate who had been about to say something, but stopped.
‘No pressure. If you don’t want to …’
‘Oh, none felt,’ said Kate. ‘I think Amy said something about going on the tram from Sóller and meeting you there. I’m looking forward to it.’
‘That’s great.’ He looked at Jane over the edge of his glass. ‘No call for you all to come, of course.’
‘Here we are.’ Amy materialised behind them, denying Jane the pleasure of the last word and allowing Brendan to slide off into the crowd.
‘I guess we don’t want to stay too long as we’re eating in the village, so let me find William so he knows we’re here. Will you excuse me?’
‘And what are we meant to do?’ Jane was exasperated by the way Amy had left them.
‘I’m going to look at the pictures.’ Linda indicated a series of white screens by the house on which were hung several paintings. She let a waitress top up her glass first.
Jane took a canapé from a passing tray. ‘Let’s try working the room.’ This was one thing she was used to. Years of dealing with complete strangers and putting them at their ease, hosting parties and events, meant she was quite confident about plunging into the fray. With Kate in her wake, she joined a knot of people where a roughly bearded man was attempting to hold a conversation in broken Spanish.
‘Mis pinturas están …’ He raked a hand through a wild shock of greying hair, muttering, ‘Oh God, what’s the bloody word?’
‘Impresionistas?’ someone helpful offered.
‘No, no, no. Expressions of a deeper-seated …’ He gave up and beat the end of his stick on the ground. ‘I can’t explain. I’m so sorry,’
‘Having trouble?’ Jane asked.
At the sound of her voice he brightened. ‘Do you speak Spanish?’ Hopeful.
‘Not a word. You must be the painter we’ve come to celebrate.’
‘Yes, William’s kindly giving this party for me. I don’t know him but my work’s being shown in a gallery in Valldemossa that belongs to a mutual friend. Small world.’ He scratched at a scrap of dried paint on his waistcoat pocket.
‘Are you from here?’
‘No, no. I’m English of course but I live in France.’ His eyes held Jane’s and for a fleeting moment she thought there was something familiar about him.
‘But you’ve always painted?’
‘Oh, always. I used to teach, and I still do some private classes. It always surprises me how many people want to learn. Cheers!’ He accepted a top-up of champagne and sipped. ‘I’d kill for a beer.’
‘But it must be so satisfying teaching a subject that everyone likes.’ Surely she could do better than this?
‘It is, and the more senior students do usually get a lot from it. That does make it very satisfying.’
‘I certainly did when I was at school.’ Jane realised she wasn’t including Kate in the conversation. ‘Didn’t we?’ She watched him consider Kate for a moment, a frown furrowing his brow, before he smiled and held out his hand for her to shake.
‘Hello. I’m Jack.’
Jane looked up sharply, but Kate didn’t react to his introduction beyond the handshake. ‘Kate.’
‘Jack Walsh. And you?’
‘Jane. We’re staying with a friend next door.’
‘I hope you’ll all come to see the show then. There’s a taster over there.’ He pointed with his little finger in the direction of the screens where Linda was gazing at one of the paintings. ‘I’d love to see you there.’
The gesture disturbed Jane. There was something familiar about it, something she couldn’t place.
‘If we can,’ said Kate. ‘We’re not here for long.’
‘Jack, you must meet Valentin Orlof, I insist.’ A tall, reed-like woman wafted up in a cloud of perfume, diamonds sparkling at her throat and on her ring finger. ‘He’s dying to meet you.’
They watched as he was swallowed up by another group of people.
‘Potential customers, I guess,’ said Kate. ‘And more like the Riviera than you thought! Shouldn’t we take a look at his paintings?
But Jane was intent on Jack, disturbed. She didn’t know anyone in the art world so it couldn’t be that she’d met and forgotten him. Nor did she know many people living in France. ‘He reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who.’
‘Does he? He reminds me of a grizzly bear.’
Jane laughed. ‘I’ve never met one.’ But it wasn’t that. His beard was self-consciously untidy, growing in all directions, disguising his mouth and the shape of his face, disappearing into the open collar of his shirt. The only part of his face that was visible was his nose, his veined cheeks and his eyes that were disturbingly focussed.
She watched him talking. Obviously they all spoke good enough English for him to be able to manage this time. As he talked he gestured, laughed and had them hanging on every word. He was flirtatious towards the women, collegial towards the men, knew exactly how to get the best out of them.
He moved on to another smaller circle. After a moment, Amy was brought into the circle of admirers by William. She looked across the party to where Jane and Kate were standing but someone in the group said something to her. She threw back her head and laughed. By the house, Linda was in conversation with a couple who looked as if they’
d strayed straight off the beach.
‘They obviously didn’t get the memo about the dress code.’ Kate was looking round for the waitress.
But Jane wasn’t listening. The longer she stared at Jack Walsh, the more frustrated she was by her inability to place him. He was listening to someone, his head cocked to one side, intent on what he was saying, when once again he used his little finger to point towards the screen. And in that moment, Jane knew.
‘Oh my God!’ She clutched Kate’s arm.
‘What’s the matter?’ Kate tried to shake herself free.
‘It’s him.’ Jane couldn’t bring herself to say his name but just watched as Amy said something that made him laugh.
‘Who? Who are you talking about?’
All sorts of carefully buried memories were whirling up so fast, they were confusing her. It couldn’t be. ‘No one. Sorry. I thought I saw someone I knew.’ If she were right, telling the others would be opening a can of worms she’d prefer was kept shut. With luck they wouldn’t notice. ‘I’m just going get myself a glass of water. Want one?’
‘No thanks. I’ll go and see who Linda’s chatting to. We should mingle.’ Kate stepped out into the party.
Inside, the house was cool, the atmosphere calm. A waiter directed her to the bathroom. As she shut the door, Jane leaned back against it, bent double, her hands on her knees, closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. Scenes from that long, boiling hot summer of 1976 were jostling for space in her head. She shook her head as if that would rid her of them but they were too insistent. For the last forty-five years of her life, she had erased what happened that summer so successfully that she had as good as forgotten her part in it.