As I watched Sam from behind a mesh screen, decorated in pale pinks with blossom, irises and wisteria, I fell in love with him all over again. There was something about watching him doing what he did best. His passion brought him to full, Technicolour life.
Colin’s friends called it a night before he did; he was stubborn, determined to win back his money. Sam let him think he was in with a chance for a game or two, then just as swiftly disillusioned him.
Colin became belligerent and aggressive, demanded to speak to the manager. With the main restaurant in darkness, apart from the glow of the fish tanks, Sam escorted an indignant Colin along the stepping stones. I watched. For a moment, I thought that Sam was going to push Colin into the pond, but he didn’t, he ushered him to the fire exit that led outside.
I followed them.
‘You’re a bloody crook, that’s what you are!’
‘Keep your voice down, Colin.’
I could tell by Sam’s tone that Colin was getting to him.
‘I’m going to report you to the management. I know your game. You and that butter-wouldn’t-melt missus of yours.’
Sam shoved Colin up against the wall. I held my breath. As I stepped forward to intervene, to calm Sam down, he let go, and Colin started walking down the stairs. Sam stood at the top as if watching him. I slipped away and returned to the restaurant.
I waited in the semi-darkness, sipping a sake, again paid for by Colin. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. I drank another. Finally, the door opened and the dark silhouette of Sam slipped in.
‘What took you so long?’
‘He had an accident,’ Sam said. ‘Bloody nightmare, he fell down the stairs. Had to get the medics to take a look at his ankle and he was a bit concussed. I explained that he was pissed, that he’d been aggressive and accused us of all sorts.’
I only half-listened because finally, Sam and I had space to ourselves, it was the spark we needed. Sam held me tighter than usual, he didn’t seem to want to let go. The fun had eased back in at the right time. I felt a great sense of achievement. As with every game, sameness and familiarity got dull, needed re-shuffling. We needed to cast our net wider, be braver, more creative. I felt invincible. We drank more sake, Sam kept topping up my glass, and then a whole bottle of a fine red – ‘Cheers, Colin’. We kept raising our glasses to him.
But then Sam’s mood shifted. It wasn’t like him to get maudlin when drunk, but something seemed to be bothering him.
‘I have to go and fill in a report tomorrow because of Colin’s accident,’ he said.
‘That’s normal, though.’
There were always forms to fill in.
‘He hit his head on the steps on the way down.’
‘But it was an accident,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That’s right. An accident. You saw it, didn’t you?’
I didn’t. A slight chill went through me, but I dismissed it. I was happy drunk. I think deep down I knew that it was best to stay that way.
‘I love you, Lola,’ said Sam into the semi-darkness.
‘I love you too.’
It was the last time I remember either of us ever saying it again.
In the morning, there was a pounding on my cabin door. My cabinmate opened it, muttering about her sleep being interrupted. Sam, unshaven and red-eyed from his obvious hangover, beckoned me out. I followed him along the corridor and out on deck, my head throbbing, my throat dry. I could barely remember getting back to my cabin the previous evening.
Our game had gone too far. No, Sam had gone too far.
Colin had died in the night.
EIGHTEEN
Now
I am alone on deck, too unfashionably early for sail-away drinks. I am glad, though. It’s peaceful.
I watch as the tender approaches. Crew meet and greet the boat and begin unloading more crates and boxes. I have noticed that the crew wear darker colours, like black and navy. Although my knee-length skirt is black, I am wearing a pale pink top. I have tied my hair up into a knot and put a string of understated pearls around my neck, to add a touch of old-style glamour. It has been such a long time since I’ve been able to do this. Just wearing the pearls makes me feel a bit like my old self. Surrounded by so much wealth, I blend in.
A breeze brushes my collarbone. I inhale sea air, tinged with – paraffin? Seaweed? I gaze out to the horizon. Where are you, Sam? I silently will him to just let me know that all’s well. It’s not entirely unselfish. If Sam is all right, chances are, I will be too. I jump as someone stands alongside me, bringing with him the scent of one of Sam’s favourite aftershaves.
‘Harry!’
He is now wearing a fresh, salmon-pink T-shirt and white jeans. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, despite the setting sun.
‘It’s Harrison,’ he says. ‘If you don’t mind. I just want to say that I appreciate your discretion. Sorry if I came across as a bit intense earlier. It was . . . a surprise, seeing you.’
‘I’m sure,’ I say.
It was a surprise for me too.
I glance behind us. A few staff are milling by the bar, but other than that, we are alone. It is a mistake to think that the crew won’t pick up on anything though. Then again, it’s not as if I am the one trying to hide my past.
‘You treated me disrespectfully,’ I say.
‘I’m sorry.’ He holds his hands up. ‘What can I say?’
I shrug. ‘How long have you and Josephine been together?’
‘A while.’
‘Are you happy?’
Not that it matters but I’m curious.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Hence the request for silence and discretion.’
‘But we happened years ago.’
‘Josephine and I were on a break at the time. There’s no point in muddying the waters.’
‘If you say so,’ I say. ‘I’m not really in a position to disagree.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ I say.
‘Can I get you a cocktail?’
‘Yes, please. You choose.’
As he turns around, I see Lucy approaching. She winks at me at the sight of Harrison. I pretend not to notice, already regretting my indiscretion.
She comes up to me.
‘Sorry, did I interrupt anything?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘I have a confession,’ she says. ‘I was being nosy after our conversation about Sam, so I checked out his Facebook.’
I am not sure how to respond. There is great power in silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ she stumbles on. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to mention it or not. I saw some stuff on Facebook. Is it true?’
‘Is what true?’
She looks awkward.
‘Does it upset you, talking about it?’
‘Yes and no. But I’m fine with you asking questions, so go ahead.’
I want to know what she has to say.
She speaks quietly. ‘It looks like he’s dead. That he was depressed.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘That’s totally wrong. He’s keeping a low profile. Some people, including his own father, believe he is dead. But, apparently, he went missing in bad weather near a cliff edge. The police are looking into it still and are keeping me updated.’
I take a breath. Lucy’s words have hit me hard. I hate that people think that Sam is dead.
‘How awful,’ says Lucy. ‘What do you think could have happened? Where could he be?’
‘Time will tell.’
‘Yes, but you look so calm, Charlotte.’
‘I need to work. Sam and I were well and truly over, but I would never wish him any harm. I couldn’t do anything back at home and Sam has my number.’
‘Of course,’ says Lucy, ‘I’m sure you’re right and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like a judgement. It feels odd. Sam was so . . . vibrant. It’s shocking.’
‘He still is vibrant, for all we know,’ I say.
I can’t
face the pity in Lucy’s eyes any longer, so I look over her shoulder. I see Josephine, followed by Mariella and Gina.
A server approaches with a tray of champagne and a green cocktail that looks more like a smoothie.
‘From Harrison,’ she says, handing the cocktail to me.
‘Thanks.’
Lucy winks again as she helps herself to a champagne flute.
I take a large sip.
‘Cheers!’ says Lucy. ‘Come on, Charlotte, drink up. How often do you get to be served? I’m sure you’re right and that Sam is fine. From what I recall, he was able to look after himself well enough.’
She’s right, but it feels odd, being in this limbo. Neither guest nor crew. Being with people who knew Sam too is also freshly unsettling. It wouldn’t feel out of place if he were to suddenly appear on deck, glass in hand, full of bonhomie. Instead, I spot Garth and Thomas joining the others.
Thomas heads over in our direction. ‘Hi, all,’ he says. ‘Enjoying yourselves?’
‘Is that a trick question?’ I say, with a smile to let him know that I only half-mean it.
‘Ha, ha,’ he replies. ‘Don’t get pissed, by the way. It’s not a good look. Come, I’ll re-introduce you to everyone.’
Lucy and I follow Thomas over. We join in at the tail end of a conversation about the difficulties of raising teenagers in the age of the internet.
Mariella smiles a lot and makes the most effort to draw Thomas and me into the conversation. Harrison avoids eye contact with me.
‘I was thinking, Charlotte,’ says Mariella, ‘that it would be fun to have a quiz in the reading room one night. A spill-the-beans on the bride- and groom-to-be. One of those necessary evil type of things. What do you think? Thomas thought it was something you’d be ideal to help with.’
I think she’s being super-friendly to buy my silence over her mystery man.
‘It’s entirely up to you,’ I say. ‘I am happy to arrange whatever you, or Thomas, would like me to.’
I take a sip of my cocktail. I smile at a man behind the bar to indicate that I need another. Mariella’s words come back into focus.
‘We will make Gina’s evening as tasteful and as un-tacky as possible,’ says Mariella. ‘Like it or not, it’s a tradition within our friendship circle. Gina will go mad and protest like crazy, but she’ll love it, really. She insists that she’s not going to be a bridezilla.’ She lowers her voice a notch. ‘Her mother is on her own, recently widowed. This is all for her, really.’
Gina and Garth are a most unlikely couple. I would not have put them together. I discreetly observe them. They are standing side by side, laughing at something, but I’m pretty certain it’s the first time that I’ve seen them together.
The crowd on deck swells.
Daniel is introduced as: ‘Daniel, our resident James Bond.’
He smiles the smile of someone who has heard that too many times before and knows they will endure it a great many more times too. The captain makes a ‘welcome on board’ announcement. The anchor is raised and suddenly, we are on the move. Slowly, but enough to create a welcome breeze. The buoyant mood and energy on board tangibly heightens. The anticipation at the beginning of a trip is always magical, but this time, even more so. Even I feel special.
Mariella insists on a group ‘Titanic-style’ photo (as I think of them).
I watch as she charms everyone into small huddles against the railings and gets them to ‘Smile!’ while raising their arms.
Sam posed like that with many passengers. When it all got too demanding at times, he would invent a fear of heights. Doubt slithers. Perhaps I am in denial. Perhaps it is wishful thinking that Sam is alive, hiding on a deserted island somewhere, living some sort of high life. It’s too hard to think of someone as alive and spirited as Sam dying young. It’s scary, the thought that I may have to face the consequences of our actions alone. I had a warped faith in my husband.
I sit down on a stool. Gina comes over to place her drink on the bar counter.
‘Enjoying yourself?’ she asks.
I quickly gather myself. ‘It’s an incredible experience. I can’t wait to build your itineraries along with Thomas. I am going to send you all a message asking about your absolute top “musts” to make sure you all at least do the one thing you are dying to do.’
‘Here’s two already – Garth is at his calmest under water, so diving is always good for him. I’m a thrill-seeker.’
‘Excellent,’ I say. ‘Thank you. I’ll make a note of that.’
‘Wonderful,’ she says, accepting another glass of champagne. ‘Maybe I should take a water too,’ she says. ‘With lots of ice.’
‘I’ll bring it over straight away,’ says the man behind the bar.
‘Great.’
Gina turns to me.
‘Nice pearls, by the way.’
My gut tightens.
‘Thanks. They were a gift.’
‘My mother loves pearls. She says they are a timeless elegance. My father gave her pearls on their last anniversary before he died. She was burgled a few months after his funeral, and of course the lowlife seized them. It was devastating. When you lose someone you love, these things increase in importance.’
‘Of course. And I’m sorry to hear that.’ True.
I relax again. That’s the problem when you cross a line, you can no longer take casual comments at face value. It robs life of uninhibited relationships.
I feel annoyed at Gina for ruining my enjoyment of wearing my pearls though. They are rightfully mine. I earned them; I didn’t steal them. I am not a lowlife.
Darkness has fallen and I cannot see any lights from the shore. We are out at sea, leaving behind all my problems for the time being. I surreptitiously glance over at The Party. As I do so, I see Gina watching me. Harrison, too. A tingle of unease forms, which I try to bat away. I haven’t felt like this since I last had something to hide. I must not give in to paranoia. I have done nothing wrong.
I want a crystal ball. Sometimes, I also want the old me back. Not because of regret, but because I want to warn myself of what dangers lay ahead.
Like the one I find resting on my pillow when I return to my cabin. A note.
Enjoy your trip, Lola. One million pounds in exchange for your life by the time we reach the final port. Your choice.
NINETEEN
Then
The Caribbean
I have this fixation with turning points. The fork in the path; the bad decisions. I can pinpoint the exact moment that Sam and I began to unravel: Colin’s death. I want time to stand still so I can warn myself to stay alert. To rectify the errors I now can’t undo.
I realise now that I used to blame Sam for everything. For luring me in, for corrupting me, for changing me. But – and this is something I find hard to admit – it was already in me, lying dormant. Waiting for someone like Sam to give me the impetus to do what I secretly really wanted to.
One thing that I do believe is true is that we both wanted to save us. But, by paying more attention to the future than the present, we corroded from the inside out. At this point we weren’t quite yet shipwrecked, but we were sinking fast. We spent instead of saving; lost instead of gaining.
Neither one of us knew how to deal with the fact that Sam was responsible for another man’s death, so we buried our heads in the sand; we never talked about it. He had gotten away with it – it was recorded as an accident – which meant we could pretend it never happened. But a secret like that, it changes everything. If I spoke up, if I did the right thing, I’d go down with Sam too. Fear and indecision silenced me. I convinced myself that it really had been an accident.
He’d hide his phone whenever we were together. Disappear at odd hours. Whenever we had cabins with single beds we slept separately. Loneliness and fear made me indecisive, but I knew, deep down, that the only thing to do was to leave.
I just couldn’t decide when.
The timing had to be right. Plus, I was scared. Sam
had never threatened me with exposure, but the threat was there nonetheless. I didn’t put it past him to use me to save himself.
One time, we’d visited a carnival in Jamaica, joining in with the street parties that were so full of colour, costumes, music and, most importantly, life and soul, the very ingredients missing for Sam and me. He had secured us a villa overlooking the festivities where we could look down onto the streets as they swarmed with happiness. I could hear the rhythm of the drums, see the decorative flames lighting the streets, the flamboyancy of the multi-coloured costumes as the dancing crowds snaked through the streets. In the villa, there were many books on the shelves and I read a lot that long weekend while Sam disappeared. I didn’t question him; knew it was best if I didn’t. That way, I could keep up my pretence of relative innocence. I knew that I hadn’t done anything truly wrong, not really, because of our selection process. When it came to Sam, however, was I snaring myself in a net of guilt by association?
‘I’ve thought of something to cheer you up,’ said Sam, when he returned from one of his outings. ‘We’re going shopping!’
‘Won’t the shops be closed?’
‘Not that kind of shopping!’ He grinned.
We negotiated the crowded streets, half walking, half dancing, part of the masquerade. We stepped into the lobby of a luxury hotel, but my heart dipped. All hotels were beginning to look the same. I assumed we were going to have a meal or act like guests to use the pool and spa facilities, or have a game of tennis, maybe, our usual methods of entertainment. But, no, Sam led me along a corridor to a jewellery shop at the end.
He knocked on the glass door despite the Closed sign. Within moments, we were welcomed in.
‘Choose whatever you like,’ Sam whispered in my ear. ‘It’s all taken care of.’
‘How?’ I whispered back.
‘Just choose.’
The lights came on, flooding the glass counters. I looked and I looked but strangely, there was nothing that I desired. A headache formed. The shop owner looked at me, his expression inscrutable.
The Ex-Husband Page 14