by Jane Tara
*
“Me no speak Engrish.”
Calypso waved her hands around in front of the hotel receptionist’s face, as if that would help. “My boyfriend went to get dinner. Dinner. But he’s not back.”
The young guy behind the desk shrugged. “No Engrish.”
“Does anyone here speak English?” Calypso was frantic now.
“No Engrish okay!”
That’s what you get for three hundred baht a night, thought Calypso. She wanted to go looking for Scott, but didn’t know where to start and felt it was best to stay close to the room. She turned and climbed the stairs, making sure she locked the door behind her. Inside, she pulled a chair up to the window, and searched the street below. Where was he?
The city that had been so much fun earlier in the day suddenly seemed menacing. They’d taken a boat up the Chao Phraya River and spent the afternoon at the Grand Palace. Scott had been in a great mood, but Calypso was feeling jetlagged, so they returned to their hotel and he’d told her to have a nap while he went and found something to eat for them. Seven hours ago.
She curled up on the bed. If only she could tune into him, but that was impossible with Scott. Even though her powers had eventually returned, she was never able to use them on him. She yanked the sheet up over her head to block out the noise: music from bars, people yelling on the street, a woman calling to someone in a nearby room. The constant hum of an unfamiliar city …
The door flew open and Calypso leapt up, confused. It was nearly light outside. The streets were quiet now. She must’ve fallen asleep. It took her a moment to realize that Scott was only just entering the room.
She launched herself at him. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Sorry, baby, sorry.” Scott was clearly drunk.
“I’ve been frantic with worry!”
Scott stumbled a bit and flopped down on the side of the bed. That was the moment Calypso realized his face was swollen and bruised and his shirt was covered in blood.
“Jesus, you’re hurt.” She clawed at his buttons and pulled off his shirt.
“I’m okay, Callie … I’m okay.”
Scott’s eye was black and swollen, his chin was grazed and his lip had split. He had a series of deep purple bruises down his stomach, a gash across his chest and some cuts on his arm. One of them was deeper than the rest but had been tightly wrapped with a tourniquet made from his boxer shorts.
“Fortunately they were clean today.” Scott chuckled.
Calypso burst into tears. She ran her fingers over him. Apart from the one on his bicep, the other cuts were superficial and the blood had dried.
“You should see the other guy,” Scott weakly joked.
“Who did this?”
“There were three of them. They just wanted my wallet.”
“They could’ve killed you.”
Scott agreed. “There was this American guy who saw them drag me into an alley. He just barreled toward them like a goddamn beast … I guess he freaked them out enough for the two of us to fight them off.”
“Was he hurt?”
“Lost a tooth. Perhaps some broken ribs. He was a mess … but a bloody hero. Without him …”
Calypso was reeling. “When did this happen?”
“I dunno, babe … hours ago. I’m so sorry, I know I should’ve come back earlier, but we were in shock, and went for a drink. One drink turned into six. Or sixteen. Fuck, I don’t know. I’m just happy to be alive.” Scott held her tight.
Calypso ran her fingers across his chest. He needed a salve for his wounds. And then she noticed something else about his chest: the amulet he always wore, the one she’d had especially made for him, was missing.
“Did they steal the amulet?”
“No … I gave it to my buddy … ah …” Scott’s face fell, and he looked concerned for a moment. “Fuck … what was his name …?”
Calypso waited. Scott had a memory for names. He remembered the names of every waiter in every restaurant they ever went to. In his opinion, it was only polite.
“I was calling him Chuck … He reminded me of Chuck Norris the way he went at those guys.” He shook his head.
Calypso was furious that he’d given his talisman away. She’d spent so much time designing it and having it made. She went to her bag and removed a small jar of salve made from various oils, goldenseal and coptis root. “This will stop the bleeding and make sure there’s no infection,” she said as she rubbed it onto his injuries.
Scott grabbed her face, and lifted it toward him. He was staring at her with such intensity that she suddenly felt frightened again.
“Wild abandon, Callie.”
“I don’t understand, Scott.”
“I got a second chance. It’s the only way I can live now. There’s no other choice.”
And that was the way they both lived, together – until he died, two years later.
*
Calyspo wiped a stray tear from her cheek. She glanced around, but she was the only customer left at the Kleines Café. The franziskanerplatz was empty, Vienna silent around her.
The waiter approached, and cleared her table. “Ist alle ok bei Ihnen?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Danke.” She was now. She paid for her coffee and made her way back toward her apartment.
“Wild abandon,” whispered Callie to herself. “There’s no other choice.”
*
The next morning, Calypso bounded down the stairs and joined Gisella and Franz for a large breakfast of pastries, bread and cheeses. She was relieved to see Gisella had finally decided to eat for two.
“You had a good sleep?” Gisella asked through a mouthful of Nutella.
“Nope, but it was an enlightening one.” Calypso poured herself a juice and gathered together a plate of black bread and cheese.
“What do you plan to do today?” asked Gisella.
She smiled at her friends. “I’m going back to London to win Taran back. And nothing is going to stand in our way.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Drink damiana tea to increase sexual energy
Calypso called Megan the minute her plane landed in London. “Any idea where Taran is at the moment?”
Megan almost cheered. “I knew you’d come round. Going to grovel are you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous … I don’t grovel. Beg, perhaps, but never grovel.”
Megan grabbed a cloth and wiped down the bar. “His door was still shut when I left Simon’s a short while ago. I think he went out last night so he’s probably sleeping off his hangover.”
“Still in bed?” Calypso sighed. “How convenient.”
“Hey Callie, I have an appointment at one today. It’s a bit embarrassing, but I was wondering if you’d come with me.”
“Not the gynecologist again.”
“No! Gawd, that was a one off. This is for a wedding dress.”
Calypso burst out laughing. “Oh Megan, I’d love to come with you.” She paused. “I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”
“Funny ha ha.”
“I’ll meet you at the pub at twelve. Now where does Simon live?”
Megan gave her the address and less than an hour later, Calypso was standing on Taran’s doorstep, waiting for him to answer the bell.
She rang the bell again. A few seconds later … footsteps. The door opened, and there was Taran, his hair mussed, his eyes sleepy, all glorious muscles and golden skin, nothing but a towel around his waist.
“Surprise!”
It certainly seemed to be a surprise, judging by the look on his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to apologize. I should never have thrown you out.”
Taran looked strangely upset – almost unwell. He didn’t speak, so Calypso continued. “I’m asking for another chance. Asking nicely. Groveling really.” She smiled, sheepishly. “And normally I’m not big on groveling.”
Still nothing.
Calypso stuck her hands on her hips, annoy
ed now. “Well aren’t you going to bloody say something? Or are you just going to stand there looking like an idiot?”
Taran glanced over his shoulder and then back at Calypso. “Callie, I didn’t expect you.”
Calypso shrugged. “So you’re not dressed. That’s fine by me. Invite me and we’ll put that fact to good use.”
“Christ, Callie … I’d like nothing better, you’ve got to believe me … it’s just—”
And then a voice – a female voice, with rounded vowels and a syrupy edge – called down the hall. “Everything okay, Taran?”
Horror flooded Calypso’s body from the feet up. By the time it hit her face, she was backing down the stairs.
Taran held his towel tight and followed her, stumbling slightly on the bottom step. “Please, Callie, she doesn’t mean anything. I never expected to hear from you again.”
Calypso nodded, polite, detached. “Of course. No need to explain … Sorry for interrupting.”
And with that she turned and ran.
Taran bolted after her. “Callie, be reasonable …” He made it to the end of the street before the wolf whistles and honking horns reminded him that he was wearing nothing but a towel.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Whiskey stimulates the heart and arteries
Calypso was furious! She was upset that she’d put herself in such a vulnerable position. And she was absolutely ropable at the hot tears that were burning her cheeks over Taran. She’d promised herself three years ago that she’d never shed tears over another man, yet here she was blubbering away in the back of a cab.
Of course he’s moved on, she thought. I made it clear it was over. But he’s won the Speedy Gonzales award for how quickly he’s done so.
Calypso wasn’t one of those women who were hung up on their man’s past. She was fully aware of Taran’s past. She’d read the piece in Art Monthly that briefly mentioned his appreciation of art, but mainly his appreciation for women and lots of them. She’d flicked through an article about his parents in Hello! magazine where his mother actually said he had the morals of an alley cat. And there had been a piece in The Guardian that concentrated on his romantic conquests more than his artistic achievements. But she’d never witnessed any of this behavior when they were together so it didn’t worry her. She didn’t think about it. In many ways, she appreciated his history. He certainly knew what he was doing in bed, which was a huge bonus. And it was always better to have a man who was bored of playing the field than one who dreams of doing so. Calypso just knew she could trust him. More proof that she had the psychic powers of a baked bean now.
She blew her nose. So much for being ready to love him and start living again. Instead she was faced with a reminder that life didn’t always pan out as planned.
It was a bitter and extremely embarrassing pill to swallow, especially after everything she’d realized while she was in Vienna. She’d been given a second chance at true love, but she’d rejected it and that true love had quickly moved on to some silly cow with a very plummy voice.
Her mood lifted slightly when she arrived home and found her father sitting at the bar. He was thinner and paler, but he looked as pleased as punch to be up and about.
Calypso gave him a hug. “Should you be down here?”
“Don’t you start,” he said. “I’m well enough to manage the bar for a couple of hours while you girls go shopping.”
Of course, Megan’s wedding dress.
Alf noticed how red her eyes were. “What’s up, my girl?”
Calypso’s eyes welled up again. “I went to Taran’s on the way home from the airport. Poured my heart out. Told him I want another chance – and then realized he was there with another woman.”
Alf nodded, as he always did when he was processing information. Nod, nod, nod, at nothing in particular. “Still, you’d ended it. You didn’t expect him to sit around waiting or moping, did you?”
“Ah yeah, for a while.”
“Callie, love, he’s a good lad, but he’s only human.”
What? Was her father defending him? Calypso’s eyes narrowed. “You barely know him.”
“I know him well enough. You need to call him and sort things out.”
“I’d rather swallow spiders than call him.”
“Then you’re a weirdo. He had no idea you’d want him back, so sleeping with someone else isn’t a crime.”
It was all too much for Calypso. She knew her father was right. “Can we talk about something else?”
“How was Vienna?”
“Good.” Calypso took a handful of peanuts and began munching. “Gisella is fine now.”
“Pregnancy hormones are mysterious things. Your mother was like a rabid dog for the first trimester with you. She bit, she barked, she howled … even foamed at the mouth a few times, but chocolate usually helped that.” Alf gave his daughter a wink. “I knew whatever she was carrying was going to be quite a handful.” He ruffled her hair. “With Nell, she spent most of the pregnancy cleaning cupboards.”
“You called?” Nell appeared behind them both. She was wearing a blue and white polka dot dress with pumps and a cardigan. She gave her sister a hug. “I’m coming shopping with you and Megan.”
“Great. We’ll have fun.” Calypso smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her bloodshot eyes.
“Who died?” Nell joked.
Alf said, “She’s upset because she’s been poking around in the Cauldron, unable to mix magic drinks lately.”
Calypso stared at her father in shock. “How the hell—?”
Alf looked almost defensive. “While there’s life in this ol’ guy, I’ll always know what’s going on with my girls.”
Calypso chewed on her lip to stop herself from crying … again. She was nearly thirty, but sometimes he still made her feel like a child – a safe, well-loved child. He never babied her, and he was never uncomfortable with her adult needs, but she was his daughter and his role as father continued to be important to him.
“So I’m guessing you’ve worked out the connection to Taran,” Nell added.
Calypso put her hands on her hips. “You saw it too?”
Nell pushed a short lock of her hair over her ear. “Helen Keller would’ve seen it, Callie.”
“I thought we Shakespeare women were only meant to have one true love.”
“What a crock of horse manure,” a voice called from the door.
Batty sauntered in wearing a camel-colored trench coat over a red slacks. She had topped her outfit with a red hat. It was a brighter entrance than Harrods.
“There are numerous examples of Shakespeare women loving more than one man. Julanne Shakespeare had her one true love and when he was beheaded in the Battle of Flodden Field she was pleasantly surprised to find love again with the Earl of Bridgewater. Her powers disappeared both times.”
Calypso was astounded. “But you’ve always said that we—”
Batty cut her off. “It’s a rich tapestry of tales we Shakespeare women weave about ourselves, but it’s not always steeped in fact.”
“So it’s lies,” Nell said, equally mortified.
“All family histories are built on … exaggerations.” Batty turned on her daughters. “What would you rather? The truth? Let’s try Ruby Shakespeare, who died at the hands of her one true love. ‘She didn’t see that one coming,’ everyone said. Well of course, she bloody didn’t. Her powers didn’t work around him. Or how about Patricia Shakespeare, who met her one true love and thought ‘… not this time around’. And instead married a blacksmith and was by all accounts extremely happy.”
“I think those stories are wonderful,” Nell said.
“At least they’re honest,” added Calypso.
“I apologize if you feel I’ve mislead you, girls. Especially you, Callie. I didn’t realize you took it so literally.”
“How else were we meant to take it, Mum?”
Batty reached out and took Alf’s hand. “I was just telling my tale. Yours will be
different. But mine … just one. One true love.”
Alf locked eyes with his wife. “Me too, Red.”
“Like my outfit, Alf?” Batty twirled for him.
“You look like the cat’s meow,” Alf chuckled. “Obviously not my cat though … the one you gave away.”
Batty stopped mid-twirl.
He gave the girls a wink. “Like I said, I don’t miss a trick.”
Megan sauntered in and looked at all three women. “What’s going on?”
“You’re shopping for the most important dress of your life. I need to be there,” Batty said.
Nell nodded. “Ditto what Mum said.”
Megan looked at Calypso. “Did you tell them?”
Calypso shook her head. “I thought you did.”
Batty gave a huff. “Haven’t any of you learnt yet that nothing is a secret around here?” She glanced at Nell. “Apart from yours.” She kissed Alf and headed toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“That’s right, Bettina,” he called after her. “And I knew about my cat long before you blurted it out at the hospital.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chartreuse is a digestif, often believed to be secret to a long life
Something Etc was a delightful bridal showroom in a converted mews house in Notting Hill, owned by Patty Pfeiffer, part rock chick, part fairy princess, and bride lover extraordinaire. She’d been married six times, so knew a thing or two about wedding dresses.
“So I saw Megan doing stand-up and she was talking about her upcoming wedding.” Patty poured the women each a glass of champagne as she regaled them with how she’d met Megan. “The audience was in stitches.” She looked at Megan. “What was that one that had everyone howling?”
Meg was already regretting coming. “A seal walked into a club?”
“No … the one about the dress. ‘Why are wedding dresses traditionally white?’ ”
“Because all household appliances are white,” Megan finished.
