I landed in Nassau, expecting Sam to be waiting for me, partly like the famous scene in An Officer and a Gentleman but at the port instead, obviously. The reality was different. I didn’t see Sam for nearly forty-eight hours after boarding the cruise ship because our shifts clashed. It was immediately clear that I was there to work, not play. I expected that, I wasn’t naïve and was grateful for the job, but it was still a rude awakening to have zero time to recover from my jet lag and to find my feet with the new job.
The job was an eye-opener. Passengers would spend thousands of dollars on handbags, shoes, accessories or jewellery and designer gifts without even asking the price. I spent a lot of time back and forth in the stock room, fetching, carrying, tidying and cleaning.
Our eventual reunion was rushed as we only had an hour before Sam’s cabinmate was due to come off his shift. Sam and I rarely saw each other. We had separate cabins. He shared with two other men and I shared with a woman named Ingrid who worked in the art gallery. Ingrid didn’t appear to like me. At first, I didn’t know why until she snapped one evening.
‘My friend should have had your job. It’s all right for you, having someone put in a good word. It’s not fair.’
After that, we avoided each other as much as possible, which was hard, given the close proximity of our living arrangements. I told Sam about Ingrid and that I felt bad that he had spoken to a friend to secure me the position.
‘Don’t worry about Ingrid,’ he said. ‘Or anything that anyone else ever says. We’re together, that’s what matters.’
‘Except we’re not.’
Our time alone was brief and stolen, always listening out for the return of Ingrid or his bunkmates. I was lonely. Horribly lonely, surrounded by strangers all day, alone in my cabin pretending to read when Ingrid was there too, or walking around the ship aimlessly. At first the ship felt massive – colossal – but after a while, familiarity made it shrink. I felt claustrophobic. There was no natural light below the waterline, no porthole, certainly no balcony, no fresh air. The cabin was barely big enough for one, let alone for two people who didn’t get on. I had to walk along dimly lit corridors with visible pipework. It was like living in the dungeons. Alone, if I let my mind wander – which it frequently did – I could conjure up all sorts of terrible fates down there where no one could hear my screams above the noise and vibrations. It most certainly wasn’t what I’d envisaged and I told Sam so.
Sam promised it would get better.
‘Trust me,’ he said.
He listened when I told stories about some of the customers. There was this one woman who expected me to force her feet into shoes a size too small.
‘As I knelt down on the ground, I told her I couldn’t do it. That it wasn’t a good idea. She told me to try harder! Honestly, her feet smelled of talcum powder and Lord knows what else and it started making me feel sick. I looked up at her cross face and all I could see was a brooch the colour of blood and these too-chunky gold rings squashed onto her fingers and it made me mad. Like – how come someone like her gets to treat someone like me as if I’m her personal assistant? She bought the too-small shoes and handed me her old ones, which were brand new. To discard.’
I paused for breath. Sam looked distracted. I was turning into a misery. It wasn’t the real me, so I made more of an effort to look for the positive in my days. The pleasant customers, the ones who bought me little gifts and thanked me for helping them choose items. Still, I couldn’t help longing for more. Sam and I would lie together in the darkness whenever it was possible for us to be alone, usually by Sam bribing or begging his cabinmates, and make plans for our future: better jobs, fewer hours, more time off on beautiful islands. Sam promised me that it wouldn’t be like this for much longer.
‘I love you, Lola,’ he said. ‘I was just drifting along in life before I met you.’
I knew that his ex-girlfriends had all moved on, to other ships, to different countries, to a life on land. No one could stand the lifestyle as long as him. I was different. I wasn’t going to abandon him because things weren’t yet perfect.
‘I love being away at sea. I couldn’t bear the thought of being stuck in one place. That’s why I’m so glad you feel the same.’
I did feel the same. I didn’t want to be one of the people who settled for just anything.
One evening, Sam announced that he had a surprise planned when we had rare time off together. We’d been looking forward to it for weeks – nearly a whole day in Falmouth, Jamaica.
The ship docked early morning. I imagined us finding a secluded beach where we would be hidden away – God, I wanted a break from crowds – but what he had planned was even better.
In the garden of a luxury hotel, he ordered me a Buck’s Fizz and asked me to wait for him. As I sipped, my neck and back stopped aching, the side effects of all the physical work, and as I listened to the birds I noticed – properly noticed – the colours of the flowers, the rich green of the grass and the beach with the sand freshly raked. My eyes closed as it suddenly all felt worth it.
‘Lola,’ said Sam, gently. I looked up. ‘Come with me.’
He took me by the hand, and led me along the grass. The sun was baking hot even though the day had barely begun. We walked around the side of the hotel, behind a hedge and green leafy plants towards a secluded private plunge pool and a small patio area with two loungers and a table. Glass doors stood open, organza curtains floating gently in the breeze.
Inside, a single stem of rich pink orchids rested on the bed, beside towel art in the shape of a heart. A silver ice bucket containing a frosted bottle of champagne rested on a small table in the centre of the room. Opera – I think it was Madame Butterfly – played in the background.
‘Oh. My. God,’ I said. ‘This is amazing.’
‘We have to take our moments where we can,’ Sam said. ‘I promise, you’ll have the best life with me.’
I believed him.
I walked around the suite, brushing my fingers along the sofas, picking up ornaments. This was real. Space, light, luxury. All because of Sam. The misgivings I’d had about my job, our lack of time together, dissolved.
He poured us two chilled glasses of champagne.
‘Let’s go to the pool,’ he said, handing mine over.
‘I didn’t bring a bikini.’
‘You don’t need one,’ said Sam. ‘The pool is for sole use of the guests occupying this suite.’
I stepped into the pool behind Sam. Quickly, self-consciously, breathing in as I adjusted to the cold water. I glanced around nervously, but we were hidden beneath a canopy of plants. It really was just us, finally.
‘Cheers.’ We clinked glasses. ‘To us.’
As the bubbles dissolved on my tongue and the alcohol hit my empty stomach, all my inhibitions lifted. This was the life.
‘Just remember, Lola,’ Sam said afterwards as we were lying on our backs, drying out on the sun loungers. ‘We could live like this, all the time, if we want it badly enough. This is just a taster.’
He sat up, leant over and reached into his rucksack, took out a small jewellery box and handed it to me. I sat up too, facing him.
‘A keepsake,’ he announced. ‘Open it.’
Inside, a ruby brooch . A flower, its circular, dark red centre surrounded with delicate diamond petals. A brooch was not something I had ever thought I wanted, but receiving it as a gift from Sam, touching the smoothness of the stone, and marvelling at the perfection in its colours, I changed my mind.
‘It’s vintage designer,’ he said. ‘I’m so pleased you like it.’
‘I love it.’ I looked up into his face. ‘Where did you get it? You’ve already spent a fortune on today.’
‘I have friends who can get good deals,’ he said. ‘But be discreet about wearing it. There are a lot of green-eyed monsters on board.’ I remembered the woman who’d handed him a package. ‘I don’t want to draw attention.’
I went and sat beside him. He placed a hand
in my damp hair and pulled me into him. We kissed. His skin was smooth and fresh, tinged with chlorine. His breath tasted of champagne. Sun burned on my back, but I was barely aware. The rest of the world didn’t exist. Even then, I think I somehow sensed that time would never be on our side, that we would always have to make the good moments burn brightly.
Afterwards, we lay entwined, dozing, happy. Beside us, the empty bottle and glasses rested on the ground among our discarded clothes. I could’ve stayed there, happily, for ever, but there was a knock on the main door. Sam leapt up from his lounger.
‘Get dressed!’ he said, throwing a towel over me.
I quickly pulled on my underwear, scrambled into my crumpled dress and did up the strap on my sandals. I ran my fingers through my hair and picked up my bag, dropping the brooch inside. Sam was already in his shorts and T-shirt, wearing one of his favourite navy caps.
‘Put on your sunglasses,’ he said, taking my hand.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘Walk casually.’
He snaked his arm around my waist and kissed me. Then we walked out the same way we came in, past the hedge and towards the hotel entrance. A security guard was speaking into a walkie-talkie.
‘On second thoughts, walk a little faster,’ said Sam.
He guided me out into the street, where he hailed a cab and named a beach several miles away. As we sank into the back seat, my heart was pounding.
We retreated to a beach café, ordering crab and mussels. I also ordered a large gin and tonic. As we ate I asked him a question I didn’t really want the answer to.
‘You never paid for that suite, did you?’
He looked amused. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’
I couldn’t help grinning. ‘You know I did.’
‘Well, then . . .’ He shrugged as he scooped an oyster out of its shell, swallowing it greedily. He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. ‘Some guests check out early. Shame to waste an opportunity. The hotel cleaning staff had no qualms about letting me into “our” room when I explained that we had already checked out but had forgotten something. I did an impressive spruce-up, I think you’ll agree?’
He looked at me, gauging my reaction. I sensed that I was being tested.
‘Have you done it before?’ I asked.
‘No. But I’ve been planning it for days in my head. I wanted us to be alone. I wanted to make you happy. What we had this morning was magical.’
It was intoxicating. That’s the thing. I always felt confused and conflicted when it came to Sam and his schemes. Yet, there was also no denying that I had crossed a line. I was both secretly thrilled and appalled.
‘The orchid stem? The champagne?’ I asked, already knowing the answer.
‘Taken from a vase in reception. Then, the minibar.’
‘Someone else will get charged for that,’ I said.
He shrugged again. ‘They’ll dispute it. No harm will be done.’
I mulled this over. I felt conflicted, but I didn’t want to burst the happy bubble.
‘And this?’ I said, taking the brooch out of my bag, now realising that I had seen it before.
‘A gift in lieu of a tip.’
‘And you re-gifted it to me? The shoe lady is a gambler?’
‘Was. She disembarked this morning. She has a flight back to California.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
True. I felt disappointed that he hadn’t bought the flower brooch, and yet . . . there was something undeniably alluring about the fact that he had truly listened while I was complaining about the very job that he had pulled strings to get me. He tried to choose a gift that I would like, and with thousands of guests on board the ship it couldn’t have been easy to identify the shoe lady. I love presents. After the disappointment of rarely getting what I wanted for Christmas as a child, to meet someone as giving as Sam was thrilling.
Sam took the brooch from me, leant forward and pinned it to my dress.
‘How do you feel?’ he said.
‘Like a million dollars.’ True.
‘I can teach you more about the value of particular types of jewellery, if you would like me to. What’s worth investing in, what isn’t. Over the years, I’ve picked up a few tips.’
Life in that moment felt like ours for the taking.
The day got better. My cabin was finally free of Ingrid and her belongings. She had jumped ship, rumour had it. Boyfriend troubles.
Sam and I had a space to call our own, at least temporarily. We didn’t waste any time making the most of it – Sam pretended to be too ill to work his shift that first night.
My life was falling into place.
‘This is starting to feel a bit more like it,’ I said.
‘I told you the bad times wouldn’t last,’ said Sam. ‘I have a lot of plans for the two of us. Trust me.’
I did. He had opened my eyes, brought me to life and it was hard to look back. Although, I did try. I feel it’s important to note that.
EIGHT
Now
I am sitting on the sofa in Lewis’s living room, opposite two police officers. Lewis sits beside me and intermittently pats or strokes my hand, awkwardly. I can’t believe that Sam is missing, presumed dead. That isn’t how it is worded but I am certain it is how it’s meant to be interpreted.
‘But I only heard from him a few days ago,’ I say.
One of the officers seems particularly interested because he leans forward slightly.
‘When was that exactly?’
Damn.
My cheeks feel hot at the thought of the memory stick beneath my pillow. I need to get a grip.
‘He called me, several times,’ I say. ‘I tried calling him back, but his phone appeared to be disconnected.’
According to the officer sitting directly opposite me, Sam was reported missing by Penny, his girlfriend. She went to meet him at his house and there was no sign of him. His phone, laptop and wallet were also nowhere to be found.
‘He carried his rucksack containing his valuables everywhere,’ I say. ‘Where has he gone missing?’ I add.
A horrible thought suddenly crosses my mind. If Sam isn’t found it could take up to seven years by law for him to be declared dead. I push away those thoughts, hoping that guilt doesn’t show on my face. My mind conjures up the South of France, Spain or an unnamed exotic island, sapphire-like, glinting seas, palm trees, treasure chests, sharks circling . . .
‘Devon.’
He names a village. Oh. My. God. My world tilts. Like sea-sickness. It is the place where Sam and I bought our ‘forever’ home. It is remote, the cliffs are steep (as cliffs are). In darkness, in bad weather, even just in the winter months, it is perilous.
‘Do you think he might really be dead?’ I ask.
‘There’s no sign of a body, but Sam hasn’t used his phone or bank cards, nor been seen anywhere, for a couple of days. According to his girlfriend, his distinctive Dolce & Gabbana jacket was found nearby snagged on a rock jutting out of the sea.’
I bought that for him the first time we visited England and Sam forgot to bring anything warm enough.
‘Where were they staying?’ I ask.
‘At your address in Devon.’
‘But we have tenants,’ I say.
‘According to his girlfriend, they were away and had given Mr Young permission to use the property in their absence.’
Like hell they did. Sam has been up to his old tricks.
I hate the thought of strangers trudging through my haven. Although, if Sam is actually dead, the property now solely belongs to me. I’ll be much better off than when he was alive. Though, under these circumstances, that isn’t necessarily a good thing.
The voices continue. ‘So, you haven’t seen him recently?’
‘To be honest, I thought he was in Mexico,’ I say. There is no harm in admitting that. ‘I was curious as to why he was suddenly getting in touch. We are estranged, obviously.’
Lewis lets go of my hand and I’m aware of him shifting slightly next to me. ‘What about that newspaper cutting?’ he asks.
‘I don’t think it’s related,’ I say quickly.
But of course, the police aren’t going to let me get away with that. I am forced to retrieve it and hand the picture of the sapphire seashell bracelet over for inspection.
‘So, you don’t know what this was about?’
I tell them the same thing that I told Lewis.
‘It was an ex-girlfriend of Sam’s bracelet. There was a misunderstanding. The bracelet went missing the day after that photo was taken, so I’m pretty sure she took it. She wasn’t happy about our marriage. She gate-crashed our wedding day, made all sorts of accusations. None of which were true.’
‘And her name was . . .?’
‘Ingrid,’ I say, reluctantly.
I didn’t put two and two together at the right time. No wonder Ingrid hated me. And the sheer arrogance of Sam knowing he would get away with it makes me feel murderous. I dread to think what he told Ingrid about me to keep her quiet. Or what he threatened her with.
I must look pale or shaky because I am asked if I need water. I shake my head. I am trying to digest everything. I stick to the story: I don’t know why anyone would want to harm Sam.
Untrue.
‘Do you have Ingrid’s details?’
‘No,’ I say.
I am asked when I last saw him, if he had suffered from depression or had been distressed over our break-up.
I resist the urge to say, ‘Do you really want to know what that bastard did to me? The last time I saw him, he was leaving me behind in Barbados. He most definitely was not distressed over our break-up. Quite the opposite.’
Instead, I press for more details of what happened to Sam. His girlfriend said the property was unlocked, but empty. No sign of Sam. The kettle wasn’t warm, the heating hadn’t been on. There was nothing in the fridge. No car. She waited and waited until she raised the alarm earlier today. I shiver. The sea is deep and rocky and treacherous in that area. It’s easy to get disorientated, especially in the dark. Especially if Sam was trying to hide from someone.
The Ex-Husband Page 6