by Kitty Sewell
Standing there like a lovesick dog, she wondered if she was falling for him. Some counsellor Jane and Gordon had forced her to see had explained her taste for older guys: she was searching for the idealised version of her dead Dad, the protector and provider. Nah, bullshit! She just found in Carlo a kindred spirit, an intelligent and interesting man who could help her become a writer. That was it. Surely!
The building was normally so quiet, but from the passage came the echoing sounds of children laughing. Another Moroccan family had moved into one of the apartments on the ramp. A cockroach scurried past and disappeared into a crack in the wall. How stupid of her to think Carlo would be interested in her and her pathetic novel for more than a few minutes.
Walking through the entrance to Ocean Village, she passed a group of people pointing towards the harbour and talking excitedly. Craning her neck in the same direction, she saw a huge cruise ship standing in port, rising high above the buildings of the docks. She overheard someone say it was the Allure of the Seas, the world’s largest cruise liner. Drawn by the idea of the world’s largest anything, she diverged towards Waterport Road and the Cruise Liner Terminal. There she stopped to gawp at the massive floating city before her.
Hordes of passengers were streaming through the terminal and getting into taxis and minibuses, while teams of dock workers were loading crates of stuff onto cranes which were hoisted into gaping openings on the side of the ship. She stood there watching the loading for a while. Enormous boxes of vegetables were delivered to kitchens, slings of netting filled with potatoes, lettuce and cabbages, enough to feed an entire city. The workers were all big muscle-bound guys, effortlessly tossing the loads as though they were beach balls. Only one of them stood out as almost weedy in comparison, but what he lacked in muscle he made up for in sheer speed. Smiling, she observed his frenetic pace until she noticed his footwear: bright yellow trainers. She’d seen trainers just like those before…under a bed somewhere?
When they’d finished loading the hoist, they moved away for a break and a couple of them lit cigarettes. The little guy with the yellow trainers turned around.
‘Hey!’ she called and waved. ‘Mohammed!’
He peered into the distance and then bounded up to her. ‘Hello, Imogen.’
‘Call me Mimi, for God’s sake,’ she said laughing and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I see this surveillance lark has gone all wonky. Here am I, checking on you, when you should be checking on me.’
‘Please don’t tell Mr. Montegriffo you saw me here.’
‘Hey! It’s a job. That’s brilliant, isn’t it?’
‘I’m just filling in for one of my countrymen. He pulled a muscle in his back. His boss said I could do it for two weeks, no more… so please don’t tell.
‘Of course I won’t. Where is he, anyway? I’ve not seen him for days.’
Mohammed looked down at his feet. ‘I don’t know. I’ve not seen him for a week myself. I think he’s gone underground.’
She squinted at him. ‘Is that ‘underground’ or under ground?’
He clearly understood the difference and smiled his lovely shy smile. ‘It could be either,’ he said. ‘Mr. Montegriffo loves his tunnels. As you know.’
They stood there a moment longer and then one of the men shouted for Mohammed. He reached into his voluminous pocket and took out a can of coke. ‘Would you like a drink?’
She laughed. ‘Ask me some other time.’
Sebastian
Finally! The site was bustling with activity and noise. Engineers, project managers, site foremen, machine operators, divers, and a multitude of other specialists had all piled back on the job after almost a month laying fallow. Everybody was busy with some task or other. Sebastian was in his office, trying to coordinate their efforts and direct operations. The planners’ go-ahead had galvanised him. He felt fit and proactive; his headache had vanished and he was down to his last bottle of tablets, after which he would make an attempt to cope without. The last few weeks seemed like a bad dream from which he’d now suddenly awoken. Apart from the fact that the waistband on his trousers was loose and Eva had noticed small tufts of white hair at his temples, it was as though nothing had happened at all.
The noise was deafening but he felt his mobile vibrating in his pocket.
‘Hey, Luna,’ Saunders booming voice was upbeat as always. ‘Some guys from the Canadian Journal of Civil Engineering are flying over to do a piece on the Frontiers Project. They should be there on Monday.’
They chatted for a while about the good news of the project’s go-ahead, and Saunders ended the conversation with, ‘Listen now. You’re our lead engineer – don’t get me wrong – but when you meet with the Canadians, I expect you to stick to the subject.’
Sebastian frowned at the warning, thinly cloaked as a piece of advice. ‘Exactly what do you mean by that?’
‘What I mean is, don’t talk about any other future projects, or yourself in relation to any other project, real or imagined.’
‘Henry, I have never been told what to say or not to say in an interview.’
‘Well, I’m the managing director for SeaChange – your employer – and I am telling you what this article should be all about. Keep to the brief.’
He was stunned by the sheer impertinence of it. It was like being pulled up in front of a schoolteacher and told his presentation was unsatisfactory. He grudgingly agreed and they said a mutually curt good bye.
No sooner had he rung off when the phone went again. It seemed all he ever did was act as his own P.A. As though he had time to talk on the damned mobile!
‘Mr. Luna?’ A solicitous female voice.
‘Speaking.’
‘I’m calling from the offices of the Ministry of Defence.’
Sebastian’s heart skipped unpleasantly. ‘Ah…why…what can I do for you?’
‘I’m sorry we’ve taken so long in getting back to you.’
He frowned and pressed the phone closer to his ear. ‘What about?’
‘You applied to have a tour of the tunnels… I think it was at the beginning of last month.’
‘I did?’
‘Well, your name is down on the list. In fact I think it might have been one of our guides, Mr. Montegriffo, who put your name down. Now, we don’t usually offer private tours during the summer months, but – well – you are obviously doing something pretty amazing for Gibraltar, and being a structural engineer and all, why shouldn’t there be an exception to the rule?’
‘Montegriffo?’ Sebastian blurted. ‘Is Mr. Montegriffo about?’
‘No, I’m sorry. I think Mr. Montegriffo is away. There aren’t very many guides available right now, but Mr. Jose Molina can take you on Sunday morning at ten, if that suits you… He’s an amateur historian, very knowledgeable, in fact he’s the one who saw your name on the list. A big fan of the Frontiers Project. I have to warn you, he’ll want to grill you about it.’ She laughed. ‘Perhaps a tour for a tour!’
Sebastian laughed too, almost hysterically.
‘A tour for a tour? I should be able to arrange that. So Sunday…yes, brilliant. It’s my one day off. Where do I meet Mr. Molina?’
‘You can leave your vehicle in the carpark of the old Casino on Europa Road. He’ll meet you there.’
‘Can I get to the starting point of the tour on foot from the upper town?’
‘I suppose you can meet him at the tunnel entrance if it’s more convenient. It’s on the upper end of the disused thoroughfare just below the Devil’s Gap Battery. It’s been closed to traffic for some years due to rock fall, and I’m afraid you have to climb around the gates. Strictly speaking it’s out of bounds, but it’s not difficult.’ She laughed coquettishly. ‘I’ve done this tour myself so I know. There are three tunnel openings along the road, and you want the middle one.’
He sat down in his chair and thought about the commitment he’d just made. He was interested in the tunnels, all right, but he could not, for the life of him, remember having
mentioned it to Montegriffo. Perhaps the man had taken it upon himself to put him on this list, or Eva or Mimi had asked him to, as a surprise. What a horrible quirk of fate: the man having done him a good turn prior to being bashed to death by Sebastian himself. He had no choice but to honour it.
*
He woke up in pitch darkness, then he remembered why. Eva had bought him some eyeshades at a pharmacy. He peeled the shades off and everything seemed different. He felt awake and alive down to the very molecules of his being. Every detail of the room looked clear and sharp, even in the twilight.
He looked over and studied his sleeping companion. Eva’s back was turned to him, her hair flowing like liquid honey over the pillows. Moving a strand of it carefully aside, he studied the scar that ran inside her hairline from the side of her ear, almost circling the back of her neck. It was faded and white, but the stitch-marks were still visible. He leaned over and softly grazed the scar with his lips. He wondered why he’d never asked her about it, what had caused such a strange wound, as though someone had tried to scalp her. Some things were better not known. Perhaps he’d been all wrong about her and she was fallible and brittle and damaged? He couldn’t bear to find out.
He lifted the sheet a little to look down at her body. She had the legs of a woman, not the fishtail of a mermaid.
‘Don’t tell me who you are, Chantelle.’ he whispered.
She trembled a little in her sleep and flung an arm out, uncovering herself to the waist. Her breasts shone in the darkness, whiter than white. He put his lips to the whiteness and felt a sudden ache in his groin, then reached down to feel the mother of all erections. Oh, God. Not again! Carefully he lifted her hand and placed it there. She groaned a little, half with interest, half in protest. Her hand closed around him and he moved slowly against it. She rolled onto her back, still in a twilight zone but clearly willing. He mounted her and was grateful for her compliance, because nothing could have stopped him. Nothing! It didn’t last long. He twitched convulsively as he came.
For a while he lay still on top of her, catching his breath. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered.
‘You’re like the fly,’ she murmured sleepily.
‘Who?’
‘The Fly! Don’t you remember? The movie with Jeff Goldblum. It’s a classic.’
He raised himself on his elbow and looked down on her. ‘Yeah, I remember it. I watched it with Mimi years ago, and I was more scared than she was. He turns into a freak, a nutter with bug eyes and his fingernails ooze slime and drop off.’
She ruffled his hair and chuckled. ‘I was thinking more of his sex drive. When he comes out of the teleportation pod and he suddenly has this unbelievable sexual potency and when his girlfriend can’t take this frantic action anymore, he goes out and finds a prostitute.’
‘I’m not like that, surely?’ he protested. ‘Anyway, the film wasn’t about that. The theme was about how not to meddle with nature. How you can’t try to step in and be God…’
She let out a meaningful little laugh. ‘Who’s talking!’
He put his lips on hers to silence her.
‘Yeah, but you know what I mean,’ she insisted, turning on her side and tipping him off her. She pushed a wisp of his hair out of his eyes. ‘Suddenly you’re horny all the time. What’s that all about?’
‘I don’t know why, and sorry, that was a pretty crude show.’ He traced her eyelid with a finger. She looked sad. ‘I feel like a real shit,’ he said. ‘Don’t trade me in, will you?’
She didn’t answer and he thought about what she’d said. It was true; he was rampantly horny. His erections in the last few days had taken him by surprise. Suddenly he remembered. Of course! It wasn’t the first time! He’d not made the connection. It was simply the result – and benefit – of coming off the medication.
‘I fancy you, woman, that’s why. I’m helpless around you,’ he said hurriedly, and kissed her again, but she drew back and studied his mouth.
‘And what’s this chewing on your lip all the time? Look at you. You’ve got a great big lesion there.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ he said indignantly. ‘That’s always been there.’
Again, they were without words, just asking questions with their eyes. He knew it was a moment in which he could have asked her about the passport and told her about his past illness, perhaps even about what he’d done to Montegriffo. But something stopped him. He trusted Eva with his life, but whoever Chantelle was, how could he know what she might do with this information? What did he know about her? The name was on his tongue, but the opportunity for frankness was lost when the radio came alive, declaring it was morning.
‘Will you take me away from here soon?’ Eva said. ‘I want to go and live somewhere far away, in the middle of nowhere. And without a phone.’
‘This is far away, my love,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘How about Japan…in about a year?’
‘Must it be that long? I feel…hemmed in here.’
Her words filled him with dread but he tried his best not to show it. Was she going to leave him? Could she disappear out of his life in the same way she’d come into it? He put his arm around her and drew her head onto his shoulder. ‘Hang in there. You love your job, don’t you? And Brian is a nice guy, isn’t he? Easy going and treats you with respect. And I adore every cell in your body. What more could you want? Tell me, and I will provide.’
She laughed, taking her time to answer. ‘Okay, get me away from here…for a day at least…this Sunday. I could use a day off the Rock.’
‘Of course I will,’ he said, relieved.
‘What about Mimi?’ she said. ‘I think we should try and get her to come along too. She’s in a very morose mood. I have a feeling Montegriffo has made himself scarce in order to shake her off. What did you really say to him?’
‘Yes, let’s all go,’ he said quickly, ‘the three of us. Why don’t we go to Tarifa and take the day ferry over to Tangiers?’
‘Brilliant!’ Eva pulled herself closer into him. ‘I so look forward to it.’
Carlo Montegriffo! The fucking tunnels! Sebastian let out a fearsome groan. He rolled her over, raised himself above her and looked her in the eyes. ‘I am so so sorry, Eva, I’ve just remembered I have a commitment. I’ve accepted an offer of a private tour of the tunnels. But listen, I know what! Perhaps you’d like to come. You and Mimi both!’
Eva was quiet for a long time. ‘Perhaps I’ll go diving.’
‘Come with me, my love.’
‘No, you go. Water is my element, not rock.’
*
He gave himself half an hour to reach the tunnel, and the instructions proved to be precise. Where Upper Town ended, wilderness began. Hidden within the foliage were all manner of ancient building works, from crumbling military lookouts to gun casements and lime kiln chimneys. The path was rarely used and in bad order – no wonder, as it led to a road which was barred. He hauled himself around the side of a grilled gate – hanging perilously over the steep hillside – and in the effort, snagging his shirt on the wires. There were more than three tunnel openings but some of them had been bricked up. The one he was looking for was sizeable and had a proper sheet metal double door.
He stood at the tunnel entrance, waiting for what seemed like ages. Mr. Molina was late. At 10.15 his irritation began to rise. He sat down on a ledge next to the tunnel. Small stones tumbled down from the rock-face above at regular intervals. The heat was building steadily and already his shirt clung to his torso. He was wearing his seldom-used hiking boots, not knowing what sort of ground he’d be treading within the tunnels. Now they felt like a couple of torture devices, oppressive, heavy and very hot.
‘Well, good morning, Sebastian.’
Sebastian swung around and looked up against the sun. The voice was unmistakable, deep and self-assured. He leapt up, not sure whether to flee, to fight or just faint.
‘Surprise, right? You didn’t expect to see me here.’
Eva
She drea
med of Remus. One moment he was a puppy and he was tearing an oven glove to bits, growling and snarling as though it were a rat he’d caught. When she’d tried to take it off him, he stood his ground and growled at her…she’d laughed – it was a great game – and Adrian had laughed too. The nipper was only two months old and already knew his own mind. She loved that dog like a child. In the next moment Remus was a large dog, tied to a stake at the far end of the yard and whimpering pitifully. She looked at him through the kitchen window. His ribs seemed as though they were on the outside of his chest. His head was too large and his hipbones stood out like door knobs. She was only allowed to give him water. Why did Remus have to suffer so, when it was she who’d tried to run away? She obeyed, but she couldn’t bear his death being so slow.
She tried to wake up. The sheets stuck to her damp body and she felt nauseous. That image would never leave her – some things you simply could not erase from your mind. She could never have a dog again, ever. She heard the morning screech of gulls and she knew she was in Gibraltar. Then a door closed. That must have been Sebastian leaving for his tunnel tour.
