She looked out over the beach. ‘I can see why; it’s beautiful.’ She fell into step. ‘By the way . . .’ She swallowed. ‘My name is—’
‘Rae-Valentine.’ He finished the sentence. ‘I know. I have remembered you all day.’
She opened her mouth to respond but instead let out a loud burst of laughter.
‘You are kidding me! That’s funny!’ She closed her eyes and shook her head at the young man, who was of course playing a part – but no matter: it still sent a flush of unexpected joy into her forty-three-year-old gut.
‘I am not kidding you.’ He sounded almost hurt.
Rae looked down and made sure her shawl was securely fastened over her chest, fiddling with the dainty china rose on the gold pin. What she experienced felt a lot like being shoved or shaken. This single compliment, flattery in its purest form and no doubt much rehearsed, filled her with excitement and also a flutter of nerves at the idea that she might be doing something that was not quite above board, illicit. Which was of course ridiculous; she was going to have a drink in a public bar – being shown the way by a young barman who had remembered her all day . . .
What a line!
As soon as she stepped into the softly lit Max’s bar, Antonio looked at her face, which she knew bore the residue of tears.
‘You are crying.’
‘I’m not now, but I was.’ She looked down, trying to wrestle with the blush that bloomed on her face.
‘Why are you crying? Has something bad happened or are you just sad?’
‘Both, actually.’ She took a stool at the bar and looked around, happy to see the place was quite empty. She wiped her face and took a deep breath.
‘Are you missing your family?’
‘My kids, yes, always.’
‘I think people can feel a little lost when they first arrive here and have time to think. I know lots of people who at home look after everyone else – it’s their purpose; it validates their place in the family – and they think coming here will be a wonderful break, but actually they feel a little anxious, like having time off from a demanding job. They are worried that if everyone at home or at work copes without them, what does that say about how much they are needed? I get it. It takes a few days of Caribbean living for you to get into it.’
Rae wondered if this could be true of her.
Antonio deposited his tray and rushed around to stand in front of the array of jewel-coloured bottles, behind the white distressed bar top with blue uplighters that seemed to lift it from the floor.
‘What would you like to drink?’
‘I don’t know.’ She stared at the shiny bottles lined up on a glass shelf and struggled with what might be appropriate for a woman alone on the first night of her holiday.
‘You like sweet, bitter, sharp, fruity?’
She shrugged and looked at her book, wondering when it would be polite to grab it and make her exit.
‘Ah ha!’ He clicked his fingers. ‘I know what to make you.’ He worked at speed, grabbing glass bottles and small vials of syrup, sloshing measures into a shaker, along with crushed ice and a generous squeeze of lime, which he mixed and poured with flair into a tall glass, finished off with a paper straw and a sliver of apple perched on the side of the pale-green concoction.
‘Taste.’ He pushed it towards her.
Rae tucked her hair behind her ears and sipped the cocktail. It was lovely – sharp, fruity, cold and slightly metallic with citrus and the soft warmth of rum against the back of her throat.
‘That’s actually very nice, thank you. What’s it called?’
‘It’s called a “Cheer Up, Rae-Valentine”.’
‘Wow!’ She shook her head and giggled; this guy was good.
SIX
Rae woke with a start. Not only did she not in the very first instance know where she was, but Dolly was standing over her, peering inches from her face.
‘Jesus, Dolly! What are you doing?’ She pushed her friend away and sat up, trying to slow her racing heartbeat.
‘I am trying to make you wake up because I have been awake since six and I am bored and hungry. And I’ve tried humming, slamming my phone on the table; I even flushed the loo, twice. Nothing, nada. You were sparko.’
Rae watched as her friend huffed and puffed, agitated, in the small space between the beds, as if caged.
‘You are honestly worse than a child.’
‘You are honestly worse than a chi-ald!’ Dolly mimicked in an affected childlike voice, which only proved the point.
Rae laughed loudly. ‘God! I can see I am not going to get any peace until I give in and get up.’ She flung back the coverlet and rubbed her face. ‘Give me five minutes to shower and I’ll be good to go.’ She yawned. ‘Are you feeling better? You certainly look it. I think I preferred you dazed and unconscious.’
‘Oh, I’m fine; think the tiredness just caught up with me.’
‘Tiredness? Dolly, you slept for the entire plane journey!’
‘What time did you get in last night?’ Dolly asked casually, changing the subject.
‘Oh, not late. Eleven – something like that.’ She felt the bloom of colour on her cheeks as she rummaged for her washbag.
‘What did you get up to?’
‘I didn’t get up to anything. Just a bit of a stroll on the beach and then I sat with my book in Max’s, the bar we found.’ She was aware of the half-truth that left a taste on her lips. She had definitely had her book with her at the bar, but she hadn’t actually opened it.
‘Was cutie there?’
‘Cutie?’
‘Yes! How could you not remember him? The young Oliver Reed lookalike – the Spanish guy with the eyes and the secret stash of champagne mini-bottles that he gave us, unofficially?’
He’s not Spanish; he’s Portuguese. The youngest of four and he is the only one unmarried. His mother, a widow, is a teacher. Her name is Liliana. He has strayed from his faith and studied architecture at university before feeling the pull of wanderlust and jumping on a ship that brought him here to the Caribbean . . .
‘Oh, yes, I did see him.’ And then I thought about him, in the way you do when someone has been kind; a diversion, as I followed the heartstring that ties me to my life in London and my family, all the way back to this room . . .
‘I think he fancied me,’ Dolly announced, sitting on the bed and using floss on her front teeth. ‘In fact I’m sure of it.’ She ran her tongue around her gum. ‘Do you think he gives away champagne out of hours to any old person? Uh-uh.’
‘I am sure you are right.’ Rae laughed and slipped into the shower.
The two took up their now-favourite spot at the table by the window and spent a minute or two looking out at the early morning sun on the water. It was a glorious day. The sky was like a painting; barely a cloud spoiled the brilliant clear blue.
‘Paradise, eh?’ Dolly speared a piece of sausage and dipped it in ketchup before devouring it. ‘Imagine waking up in a place like this every day. Do you think people get used to it or bored of it, or do you think they still look at it with wonder, like us?’
‘I don’t know.’ Rae considered. ‘I hope they are still in awe of it, but I guess you get used to anything, don’t you? I know people come into our street, tourists mainly, and they take pictures of the Georgian crescent and the lampposts. I don’t take photos or marvel at it in the same way, but I do appreciate it. Maybe it’s like that?’
‘Maybe. I guess the main difference is no one in your street is walking around in a bikini and sarong with a palm tree within grabbing distance.’
‘No, but Mrs Williams does do her recycling in her nightie with a London plane tree within reach.’
‘Good for her.’ Dolly cut another chunk of sausage and dipped.
Rae selected a large chunk of melon from her bowl. ‘So, what’s the plan today?’
‘We pack our beach bag, find a spot, sit on the sand, soak up the sun, have a break for lunch – I quite fancy the salad b
uffet with something barbecued.’
‘God, I love how we are discussing lunch while we eat our breakfast. We are turning into our parents.’
‘Please don’t say that! Mum literally pulls back the cover as she wakes, turns to Dad and says, “I thought I’d do a nice piece of haddock, Arturo, with some chips and peas. For tea.” And he is like, “Lovely.” I have heard her, Rae, planning supper before they have so much as ingested a cornflake.’
Rae laughed, not only at the truth of this, but at her friend’s marvellous mimicry of her in-laws.
It only encouraged Dolly. ‘“Oh, remind me to get the mince out of the freezer, Arturo; I’m going to make a shepherd’s pie. Or do you fancy roast chicken? No, forget that: I need to use up the sausages in the fridge. Bangers and mash with onion gravy? Or how about omelette and salad with chips to share?”’
Rae wheezed her laughter. ‘Stop it!’
‘But it’s true!’ Dolly laughed.
‘I know it’s true, but I don’t want to laugh this much this early on – we need to pace ourselves; save some for later.’
Their laughter subsided and the two ate their breakfast, always nicer when prepared by someone else and without the morning rush.
‘I can’t stand the idea of becoming like that, where my life is reduced to menus and doctors’ appointments and aches and pains,’ said Dolly with a wry smile. Rae chuckled. ‘I know what you are thinking – that we are already on that path.’
‘I was thinking that.’ Dolly reached over and gave her friend a gentle squeeze on the arm. ‘But it’s not true. Mid-forties is now the equivalent of mid-twenties when we were young.’
‘I don’t believe that; I think we just hope it’s true because we are in our mid-forties.’
‘Possibly.’ Dolly took a large swig of her coffee. ‘I know I want to put off becoming that old person for as long as possible. I think we all feel like it to a degree and it’s something you only really think about as you hurtle towards your fifties, when you suddenly realise that you have more years behind you than ahead. It’s a bit scary. I’m thinking of overhauling my diet,’ she announced, as she loaded up her fork with bacon and fried bread.
Rae laughed again. Dolly had been promising this since they were teenagers.
‘I don’t think it’s the actual getting old, Dolly, that bothers me so much as what being old will be like. I don’t want to reach old age and wonder what the hell I did with my life.’
‘You have a very full life, an important life!’
Rae smiled at her, suppressing her desire to scream, I thought so too! I have always put everyone else first and look where that has got me! Instead, she kept her tone calm, remembering that her friend was operating without full sight of the facts. ‘Bless you for saying that. I think if I knew I was going to be eighty and sprightly then I’d be fine. That’s what I fear the most. My mum and dad are, you know, like yours. My dad used to be so busy and when he worked at BT he had a kind of purpose. He ran his life like clockwork and as soon as he retired he switched his purpose and his attention to tablet reminders and bin day . . .’
She heard her dad’s voice, thinking about their phone call right before she left. Have a lovely time, sweetheart. Be careful. Don’t let that Dolly get you into trouble. Don’t drink water that isn’t bottled and don’t worry about souvenirs for everyone; a nice postcard will suffice. It amused her that he still pictured Dolly as the overconfident teen who might lead her astray. Which on occasion, she did.
‘Howard has as much energy now as he did when he was a kid – that’ll keep you young.’
‘Yep.’ She turned her attention to her fruit salad.
‘He is a good man, Rae.’
Rae looked at her friend and saw Howard sitting on the end of their bed with tears dripping on to the carpet. ‘Christ, I don’t need you to keep recommending him to me! It’s not like our first date, when you more or less sold him to me right up until I met him.’ Oh, my brother is so great with kids! He cooks a mean steak! He is loyal . . . ‘We’ve been married for twenty-five long years – hence this holiday!’ She spoke with uncharacteristic sharpness.
Clearly startled, Dolly laid her fork on her plate. ‘Where the bloody hell did that come from?’
‘I don’t know! I don’t know!’ Rae took a sip of her orange juice. It seemed she wasn’t as good as suppressing her anger as she thought. ‘I’m sorry, Dolly. I shouldn’t snap at you.’
‘Oh, I don’t give a shit. Snap away. But I am worried about you. I want to know what’s going on inside your head.’ Dolly rapped her knuckles on the tabletop.
‘I don’t think it’s one thing. I think it’s lots of things.’
‘Well, that’s a good start,’ Dolly offered sincerely. ‘And luckily we have lots of time.’
There was a pause while Rae considered how and what to say that might satisfy her friend. ‘I guess, if I—’
‘Hello there, you two!’
Rae turned towards the high-pitched voice that had interrupted her and smiled at Nora and Nick, who approached with heavily laden breakfast trays. Nick was still wearing his very short shorts.
‘Mind if we join you?’ he asked, as he edged the chair from the table with his sandalled foot, making their response quite redundant.
‘Oh! Yes, of course.’ Rae could feel the burn of Dolly’s hot stare.
‘So, how are we settling in?’ Nick asked, as he placed his gargantuan feast on the tabletop and took a seat next to Dolly.
‘Very well, thank you,’ Rae offered politely, watching as Dolly pushed her plate away, indicating that for her, breakfast was over.
‘There was a wonderful singer in the bar down the beach last night, sounded just like a young Michael Bolton.’ Nora beamed.
‘Oh, I’m sorry we missed that.’ Rae downed her juice. ‘Dolly had a bit of an early night and I went wandering alone, then read my book in the bar.’ She felt the brush of guilt against her skin as she gave more detail that wasn’t strictly true. What bothered her more than the untruth was the fact she felt the need to lie at all – all because of the slick-tongued, well-practised chat-up lines of the kid behind the bar. It really was as ridiculous as she made it sound. ‘We were just leaving, actually.’ She patted her mouth with the linen napkin and placed it on her plate. ‘We wanted to stand on the pier and watch the big boat, a cruise going past; apparently it’s quite a sight. I’ve never been on one but my sister has. She used to work on one. A dancer.’
Both she and her sister-in-law heard the symphonic gasp from the knowledgeable duo.
‘What’s wrong?’ Dolly asked.
Nick leaned forward with a theatrical, conspiratorial twist and spoke in low tones. ‘Don’t let any cruise-goer ever hear you call such a vessel a “boat”. She’s not a boat. She’s a ship.’ He nodded and took up a teaspoon, with which he then chopped the top off his boiled egg.
Dolly linked her arm through Rae’s and the two giggled their way back to the cabin. ‘Ship? Boat?’ Dolly squealed. ‘I’d rather be on a bloody pedalo or a lilo alone in the ocean than have to do anything with that couple. God, Rae, kill me now! Please don’t ever tell them again that they can join us!’
‘I’m sorry. I was on the spot and I didn’t know what else to say! I didn’t want to offend them. And might I remind you that it was you who made friends with them on the bus.’
Dolly turned to her sharply with her hand to her mouth. ‘Bus? Bus? Do not ever let any coach-goer hear you say “bus”! She was a coach of fine proportions, with air conditioning and drinks holders. Bus? What were you thinking?’
Rae, as ever the perfect audience, laughed loudly.
Dolly fished for their room key in her pocket. ‘You are too nice. Leave it to me. I have no problem in offending them at all.’
Dolly was in the bathroom when the call came in to Rae’s mobile. She saw the display and remembered when the sight of his name popping up on her screen would give a lift to the most ordinary of moments throughout the day.
But not now. Now it elicited something quite different. She thought it had been hard to speak to him face to face, but this disconnection across the miles made it even harder somehow; she didn’t know how to start. It was alien for her to feel nervous at the prospect of talking to her husband.
‘Howard.’ She spoke softly, cradling the phone to her face and walking to the far end of the terrace, in the hope that Dolly would not or could not hear their conversation. She wanted to capture any potentially harmful or revealing words like a collector with a butterfly net and keep them hidden.
‘Vinnie said you’d . . . you’d arrived okay,’ he began, clearly a little nervous.
‘Yes, and the place is lovely.’
‘Good, good.’
There was a pause for a second longer than was comfortable.
‘Have you heard from the kids?’ She pictured Hannah and George and hoped they were doing okay. No matter that they were young adults; she felt the same level of anxiety as when they were no more than toddlers and away from her at nursery.
‘George is at Ruby’s mum’s and Hannah called to see if you’d got away okay. She’s fine; said she was going out with a girl on her course for supper – Niamh, I think her name was.’
‘Good! That’s good.’ Rae smiled; she wanted her child to be sociable. ‘Hope she has a nice time.’
‘She did ask why I didn’t go on holiday with you.’
‘I already told her it was because of your work commitments.’
‘I know, but she’s a clever girl . . .’ He let this trail.
‘Let’s hope not too clever, eh?’ She regretted the jibe the moment the words had left her mouth, wishing the butterfly net had captured this phrase and kept it from escaping. ‘I just meant—’
‘I know what you meant and trust me, it’s one of the things that keeps me awake in the early hours: what you suggested – that maybe someone knows, someone who might tell people, who might tell my kids.’
Rae felt torn, part of her wanting him to have this worry, thinking it would be no bad thing for him to feel the full force of the damage he had caused, to lose face; but the other part of her, a bigger part, wanting nothing to reach her kids that might cause them a moment of unrest. They were what mattered the most.
The Girl in the Corner Page 12
