by Fanny Blake
That smile was beginning to creep across his face, making his request less surprising. ‘You don’t mind me asking, do you?’
‘Not at all.’ Her relief was tinged with bitter disappointment but at least he had asked for a decision that was easier to make. Of course she would help him. ‘How much are you talking about?’
His grin went from piratical to sheepish at once. ‘Five grand.’
A scream went up from the square as a little boy fell from the platform, fortunately to be caught by an adult standing nearby. A woman started shouting and gesticulating, furious that nobody had been supervising the child. Kate was thankful for the distraction. It gave her a second to compose her features so her shock at being asked for so much didn’t show. By the time the drama was over, she had recovered herself.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of money. If only.’
‘Can’t you lay your hands on it for me somehow? Please.’ His hands were clasped in front of him. The romantic bohemian hero had disappeared to be replaced with a sad, elderly man reduced to begging from his sister’s friend. She actually felt sorry for him.
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a farmer’s wife, not a banker’s. We don’t have that kind of money sloshing about. Have you asked Amy?’ Immediately she asked the question, she could see she’d made a mistake.
His expression darkened. ‘What do you think? I’m her brother, and I’m desperate but she wouldn’t lend me a dime.’
‘But that’s a lot of money.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ To her astonishment he pushed back his chair and stood up.
‘Can’t you manage with less?’ She could probably find a couple of hundred for him.
‘No. I owe a guy I met in Goa. I needed some of it for my youngest son’s mother for a photography course he’s going on. The course and the equipment he needs mounts up. And some of it for myself. I thought I’d be paid something for the platform.’ He looked defeated for a moment.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘If you won’t help me, I’ll have to find someone else who will.’ He looked around as if expecting that someone to materialise. ‘I’d better get on. The others will be here soon.’ He took off across the square as if escaping an argument.
If he was hoping she’d have second thoughts, stamping off like a teenager and leaving her with the bill to pay was hardly the way to encourage them. Kate couldn’t help being reminded of her children and how often she’d had to deal with them flouncing out of a room when they didn’t get their way. The greatest flouncer of all was Kit, with Molly coming in a close second. ‘Mu-um.’ She could hear the word divided into two syllables to signify how unreasonable she was being. Ignoring them worked best and that’s what she’d do now, so instead of chasing after him she remained at the table, nursing her drink, musing on the day’s events and waiting for the other two.
At last Linda came walking up from the main road. She looked terrific in Jane’s cast-off top, quite different to the woman who arrived on the island only days before. When she spotted Kate, she came over to her, smiling. ‘Amy’s waiting in the car park. We’ve decided that whatever’s happened, we’ve got to grab what’s left of our time here and make the most of it. Are you game?’
That was so good to hear. She would not let Dan’s change of attitude spoil things and perhaps the three of them at least would leave the island friends. She raised an arm for the waiter. ‘Of course, I’m totally game. Just let me pay for these drinks.’
24
By the time she reached the hotel, Jane was already regretting her decision to leave Ca’n Amy. Walking out on the others would only confirm to them her guilt over her role in what had happened to Amy and Linda. And she did feel guilty. They had made sure of that, even though they should take more responsibility for what happened in their lives. But did she honestly believe that? Or was that merely her absolving herself? She had a horrible feeling she knew the answer. Although, as a doctor, she had talked to so many patients that she understood better than most what made people behave they way they did. Or so she thought.
She found the hotel down a narrow street running below the main road. When she phoned, they had told her a last-minute cancellation meant they had one room available that night and she had jumped at it. She rolled her case, bumping it over the cobbles, from the car park below the village and into reception from where she was shown to her room. To reach it, she was taken back into the street and into the adjoining building. The hallway was imposing: high ceilings, an antique sideboard, some ancient agricultural tools (Kate might have known what they were), funky light fittings. Her room was just off it.
When the door shut behind the porter, she suddenly felt very alone. The room was not one of the light and airy ones she’d seen advertised on the hotel website, but was small and dark with narrow French windows that gave a sliver of a view of the mountains. The bed took up most of one end of the room, but there were a couple of chairs and a table at the other. She sat down and got her phone from her bag. Footsteps thumped across the floor of the room above her.
She desperately wanted to talk to someone about what had happened but, not knowing any of the women she’d spent the weekend with, no one at home would understand. She couldn’t call David after their last conversation. He was the one person who would listen and sympathise but it seemed wrong to use him as a shoulder when she was lying to him about so much else. And that was the reason for coming here alone. She had twenty-four hours to get her head round her own situation and decide finally whether to end her affair – was that what it was? – with Rick or not. Or could she get away with it for a while longer? After all, they didn’t usually see each other that often. Going to Barcelona was a reckless one-off that wouldn’t be repeated. After their phone call the previous evening, he had emailed detailing the ways they were going to enjoy themselves. She felt hot with anticipation just thinking about them.
She stared at the face of her phone, then called up Rick’s number. The dial tone was a series of long beeps. So he must already be there. Waiting for her. For the first time in their long relationship, she didn’t feel that familiar thrill of expectation, of desire.
He picked up quickly. ‘Darling! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. Is everything OK?’
‘No.’ She rarely cried but, to her surprise, tears were rolling down her cheeks.
‘What’s wrong? I can hear something’s up.’
He might not be David but his voice was still a comfort.
‘Everything.’ She reached for a tissue from the box on the table, telling herself to pull herself together. Now was not the moment to fall apart. ‘And nothing,’ she added.
Above her, the footsteps were louder than before.
‘We’ll put it right when you’re here. You’re going to love this hotel. The room has everything and it’s round the corner from a couple of top-class restaurants.’ He was such a sybarite. All he cared for were the luxurious trappings of life. And sex. But, pleasurable as those things were, there was more to life than that. That was the difference between them.
‘We can’t go on like this,’ she said. ‘David suspects something. I’m risking everything coming to Barcelona’
There was a silence from the other end of the phone. From upstairs as well.
‘Why didn’t you say something before? We could have cancelled.’ He wasn’t shocked, just matter of fact. She suspected he could and would move on from their relationship in a heartbeat. She wasn’t the only woman who could satisfy him and he had never had any trouble in finding others. She heard herself take a deep breath.
‘I think we’ll have to stop seeing each other.’ There, she’d said it. The footsteps stopped and started again above her. She pushed open the window to let more air into the room, into her head.
‘But not today? Not now I’m here?’ He knew her too well. ‘Sounds li
ke you could do with some fun before you go home.’
Within minutes he had persuaded her that it was too late to back out. Just a few days of sex, sunshine and the high-life and then it would all be over. If only the prospect filled her with more joy. Instead she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt towards David although something still stopped her acting on it.
There was no point unpacking, and staying in this depressing room for the rest of the night was out of the question. She had noticed a bar that served tapas in the main square so she would go there and people-watch. She grabbed her bag and keys, and left. As she was locking the door, another one slammed above her head. Whoever was up there was making their way down the winding stone stairs.
She was straightening up as someone reached her floor. She was aware of a man walking past her but as she turned to follow him out of the building, she stopped dead. Even from behind, his build, the shape of the head, the checked cotton shirt and cream chinos were all achingly familiar. It couldn’t possibly be.
‘David?’ The word emerged as a shocked whisper.
He had just put his hand on the door to the street but let it drop to his side as he spun round. ‘Jane! What the hell are you doing here? You said you were staying with Amy.’
‘I am. I mean I was.’ She had never heard him sound so suspicious. ‘But what are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same thing.’
‘The four of us fell out over something that happened at school – we all remembered it differently – and so I left a couple of hours ago. I was lucky there was a room here.’
He scratched his head. ‘You mean you walked out without sorting things out.’
‘Kind of. It’s complicated. But why are you here?’ Though the answer was obvious.
‘I’ve come to find you.’
‘But why? I’ll be home in three days. What’s happened? Is Paul all right?’
He put his hand back on the door handle. ‘I was about to go to that bar in the square and phone you. But we can talk there instead. Fancy it?’
‘I was going there too. Or we can talk in my room.’ She indicated the door. ‘Except there’s someone upstairs doing a clog dance.’
‘I’ll take my shoes off next time.’ He allowed himself a brief smile. ‘Let’s go out. It’ll be easier to say what I’ve got to say on neutral ground.’
‘Christ, David. What is it?’
But he was already out of the door and walking up the cobbled street. He paused to wait for her. ‘Are you here on your own?’
She slipped her hand through his arm, but could feel him resisting the contact. ‘Of course I am. We’ve just had a row and I had to get out. Coming here turns out to have been a big mistake. You’ll never guess who’s on the island.’ Not that she had ever told David about Mr Wilson. What had there been to tell, since she hadn’t given the man a thought for years? But she would tell him now.
However he showed no interest, just carried on round the corner and up the main street to the square, saying nothing. She felt more nervous with each step.
At the square, they went to the bar to the right of the plane trees where there was a free table tucked up beside the church wall. As they sat down, Jane saw Linda on the other side of the square, walking over to where Kate was sitting on her own in one of the opposite bars. They exchanged a few words and Kate paid before they walked off down the hill, smiling and chatting. If only they had never met Jack Walsh, she could be with them, heading into Sóller for a jolly last supper. Except David would have caught up with her anyway. As it was, she seemed to be on the brink of something dramatic. She ordered a white wine to his Estrella.
David looked around the square. ‘Pretty place.’ He squeezed the end of his nose, a telltale sign of his anxiety.
‘David!’ Jane couldn’t wait any longer. ‘Please tell me why you’ve come. I’ll be home straight after the conference and I thought we were going to plan a holiday then.’ The lies came without her trying. ‘What’s happened? You’re frightening me.’
‘I know there isn’t a conference. That’s what’s happened.’ He stared at her, challenging her to deny it. Wanting her to deny it.
‘But …’ Despite all the activity in the square, and children racing about the makeshift stage, they were in a bubble of their own. Nothing else mattered as she struggled to find a reply, wondering how to give him what he wanted. ‘How …’
‘My computer crashed last night when I was in the middle of checking a pitch. I had to move on to yours otherwise I wouldn’t have got it to Pete in time. While I was working on it, you got an email alert from Rick headed Barcelona.’ He paused, as if hoping she might jump in with a reasonable explanation.
Jane couldn’t speak. She certainly couldn’t explain as she wilted inside, remembering what Rick had said.
‘I opened it. You’d have done the same, wouldn’t you?’ He looked at her long and hard. ‘I know you would.’
Did he mean in the same way she’d looked at Elaine’s notes? She took a sip of her wine, but it tasted like vinegar now.
‘So you’re meeting him there, in the Hotel Neri, I gather. I don’t think we need to go through what else he said. You must have read that for yourself.’
Right then, sudden death would be preferable to the memory of Rick’s description of what he wanted to do to her, things she and David had never come close to doing. The thought occurred to her for the first time that perhaps she was getting on a bit for such shenanigans. But was there such a thing as being too old for experimental sex?
‘I couldn’t wait for you to come home to discuss it, and I couldn’t do this over the phone. I had to come out here and find you. How long’s this been going on?’ His question broke into her train of thought and, as it did, the world slid away from her as her head emptied of everything except for an overwhelming rush of panic. Would they ever be able to find their way back to each other after this?
‘The funny thing is I’m not even angry. I’m sad,’ he said, laying both his hands on the table.
And hurt. He must be hurt that she had lied to him and betrayed him time and again. And angry. She would rather he were angry. She wanted him to shout at her, hurt her back. Anything would be better than this awful controlled calm. The little emotion betrayed in his face was underwritten with grief and exhaustion. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but feared his rejection.
‘You see, I thought we had a good marriage.’ He ran his finger down the stem of his glass.
‘We do.’ She almost choked on the words. Not because she didn’t mean them but because she did. ‘We still do.’
‘No, Jane. We don’t. Who can have a good marriage when one of a so-called partnership is still fucking their ex?’
She flinched at the fury in his words. At last. She couldn’t help looking around to see if anyone had overheard him. But despite the harshness of the question, his voice was low, restrained. Around them, people were talking, laughing, eating and drinking, enjoying their holidays.
‘I never thought I’d say this but I can’t trust anything you say. You’ve breached patient confidentiality and you must have lied on plenty of other occasions about Rick. Have you?’
How could she explain what she and Rick had together and that it didn’t impact on her marriage to David? Except for the fact it had. How could she make him believe that it wasn’t an affair, that it was just sex? That it was nothing more than a spark of electricity and a jolt of self-belief that she no longer got from him? That all they enjoyed was physical gratification, nothing more. There was no deep or fulfilling emotion involved in their exchange, nothing like what bonded her and David. And that was what mattered. Now she was in danger of losing everything, she saw that she should never have challenged her love for him. Once again, she had been too selfish to see straight.
He was biting his bottom lip, waiting for her reply.
He visibly tensed before putting his head in his hands.
She hurried on. ‘But not often. I promise.’
‘Do you love him?’
She could hardly hear him but shook her head. ‘No. There’s nothing like that between us at all. I love you.’ She stopped. Speaking about their emotions was not something either of them did easily. If one of them ever tried, the other would laugh it off. But not this time.
‘You understand why I had to come?’ He looked up at her, his eyes earnest as he pleaded for the right answer.
She nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘If you go to Barcelona, our marriage is over.’ He clenched and unclenched his right fist. ‘When we get home, I’ll file for divorce. If you come home with me now, I’d like us to start over.’
She went from despair to elation in a heartbeat. He was putting the decision about their future into her hands. But he hadn’t finished.
‘Coming here was a knee-jerk reaction. I didn’t think about what I was doing until I was on the plane and by then it was too late to go home.’
‘But you don’t do knee-jerk.’ She couldn’t help an affectionate smile. In all the years she’d known him, he’d thought every decision through. Even when it came to proposing to her, a travel company had arranged their trip to Iceland and the special journey to Gljúfrabúi where he had got on to one knee in front of the waterfall. Planned spontaneity – that was what he was good at.
‘Perhaps it was about time. But I’ve thought about nothing else on my way here except what I was going to do and say when I found you. I don’t want us to separate. As far as I’m concerned, we share too much that I don’t want to give up and, although some people might think I’m bonkers, I do still love you. If you want out, now’s the time to say. If I’m not doing something right then tell me, and I’ll try to change. That’s how much it matters to me.’