by Mandy Baggot
He’d been mad when he’d left Sergei. There was his colleague, concerned about a meaningless relationship, like the world would end around them. It infuriated him. It was such a waste of everything. If he was in Sergei’s position, without so much hanging over his head, he wouldn’t be spending a second worrying about things that didn’t matter. He’d be living life, enjoying life, making the most of every second. Perhaps that’s what he should do anyway. Take a few chances, bend the rules. The clock was ticking anyway.
Yan glanced through into the restaurant, his eyes searching out Ellen. Her beautiful eyes, the way her lips had reacted to his last night ... It had felt like a little piece of freedom. But, as with everything in his life, it just seemed that little bit too far out of reach.
23
Yan still couldn’t concentrate. Already that day he had spilt paint all over the carpet of the children’s clubhouse and had an awkward moment with Monica during aqua aerobics when her bikini top had come undone. Ellen hadn’t joined in with water exercise like she had said she would. He’d seen her and Lacey pull up sun loungers in their usual spot but neither of them had interacted. They’d taken it in turns to walk to the bar and Ellen had read another book. She hadn’t even looked his way. Not that he should be surprised at this. Not after his behaviour of the night before and again this morning. She was doing the right thing. He, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking for her.
‘We should start the darts.’ Sergei’s voice broke his thoughts.
Yan looked at his watch. It was already after midday and participation in the day’s activities had been significantly reduced. He was low on energy and completely lacking in enthusiasm.
‘Is late. It is time for food.’
‘This is not from me. This come from Tanja. Guests ask for darts,’ Sergei said.
‘What guests?’
‘I do not know but she say we must do this.’ Sergei grabbed up a clipboard and passed it to him. ‘You collect names.’
Yan didn’t touch the board and shook his head.
‘Come on, Yan. I always take names,’ Sergei moaned.
‘You have more languages,’ he answered quickly.
‘Is easy. What is name? Write down. Thank you. In five minutes by bar.’
‘Good. You go.’ He took a step back.
‘I cannot.’ Sergei dropped his eyes over to the left. ‘I cannot speak with Lacey.’
Regarding his friend’s slouched stance he really didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know exactly what had happened between them and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He’d learnt too many times it was often better to know as little as possible.
‘Last night, we ... me ... and Lacey ... ’
Before Sergei could say any more Yan grabbed the clipboard. ‘I will take names.’
* * *
‘Was he crap in bed or something?’
‘What?’ Ellen looked up from her book at Lacey’s question.
‘Ross. Was he rubbish in the sack?’ Lacey sniffed. ‘Because you didn’t actually say why you didn’t want to marry him.’
No. She hadn’t said. She’d washed over the details and given as brief information as possible. She couldn’t open up. She still felt so stupid and so humiliated over the whole affair.
‘It wasn’t one thing,’ Ellen finally responded.
‘He was crap in bed and he didn’t get Hollyoaks?’
‘That’s your criteria is it?’
‘Mark likes Hollyoaks,’ Lacey said, shrugging.
‘It wasn’t either of those.’ Ellen sat up, noticing Yan heading out from under the bar area and towards the pool. She felt the childish urge to hide. She’d already been put on the spot with Lacey, she wasn’t sure she could cope with anything else. She was still trying to work out in her head how best to get her clothes back and return the top he’d loaned her.
‘So, what was it if it wasn’t sex or TV? Money?’
An icy sensation ran up Ellen’s spine and she cooled instantly despite the heat. Money. Something she’d never had to worry about before was now all she could think about ninety nine per cent of the time. She watched Yan moving along the line of loungers encouraging the occupants to participate in something other than sun worship. He was limping slightly. She’d felt a niggle of guilt when water aerobics had taken place earlier. Uri and Monica had even glanced in her direction right before the jogging up and down. She just hadn’t been able to face it.
‘Was he on the dole or something?’ Lacey continued.
‘No. Look, do you want another drink?’ Ellen got up, snatching her sarong from the small plastic table separating the two sun beds.
Lacey didn’t respond but eased herself up a little and slid her sunglasses down her nose. ‘Looks like they’re about to do a game.’
Yes. And Yan was about to come along and ask them to play and she couldn’t face him.
‘I’ll get you another Apricot Cooler.’ Ellen didn’t stop and wait for Lacey to reply but headed off, skidding on the wet tiles as she raced to the bar.
* * *
Ellen had finished an Apricot Cooler before the barman had even poured Lacey’s. At this rate she was going to develop a dependency. It was unnatural. A normal woman her age should not be leaning on local liquor for support just because she’d kissed a member of animation and left her clothes in his room. What she should do was chillax like Lacey had been telling her since they’d arrived. Lacey was chilled. Lacey was so relaxed she was forgetting promises of eternal devotion to her fiancé and wrapping her limbs around a Bulgarian. Just like she had. Like sister like sister. Both with the reckless tongue gene.
A hard slap on the back brought her back into the moment.
‘Hi! Hi! Hi! Miss Ellie, you play darts!’
Before Ellen knew what was happening, Dasha was clamping her hand into his, moulding it like it was play clay and dragging her towards the stage area where Sergei was setting up the dart board.
‘No, I don’t play darts.’
She’d barely squeaked out the words before Dasha laughed – that roaring, booming canon of a laugh that drowned anything and everything.
‘Everybody play darts. See, Miss Lacey is here.’ Dasha pointed at Lacey and Yan arriving from poolside.
Ellen’s stomach dropped and she dug her nails into Dasha’s hand making him squeal like a girl and let go.
‘Sorry,’ she offered, not meaning it. ‘I’ve got a massage booked.’
She took one last look at Yan and headed towards the steps.
24
Ellen had eaten far too much at dinner. She’d undone the zip on her skirt a little as soon as they’d sat down at a table in the entertainment arena. No one could see and she didn’t intend to get forced into dancing again.
The night was muggy. It had been another thirty degree day and out of the air conditioned building it was every man for himself with the mosquitoes. She picked up her glass of water and took a sip.
‘No you don’t. One alcoholic drink to every soft one like you promised.’ Lacey pushed the jug of the night’s special cocktail towards her.
‘Have you called Mark?’ It was a low blow she knew but when Lacey was scrutinising her drinking habits any distraction technique had to be put into operation.
‘Yes.’
Ellen sat forward on her seat. ‘Really? You really called him?’
‘He is my fiancé. Of course I called him.’
‘And?’
‘And the golf tournament’s going well. Dad’s in sixteenth place and Mark’s twelfth.’
‘Lacey.’
‘What? What did you want to know? Whether I’d told him I kissed the Zumba teacher last night? No, I didn’t and strangely enough, he never asked.’
‘Well, what did he ask about?’
‘Nothing much. We were just touching base.’
Lacey’s eyes turned sheepish and were re-focussed, away from Ellen and into her drink.
‘Touching base is a term people use when they hav
e nothing to say to one another. You and Mark have a wedding to plan.’
‘You’re getting boring now.’
‘Lacey, the only reason we’re here is for the wedding.’
‘No, you’re wrong.’ Lacey put her glass down on the table. ‘That was the reason we came here in the first place, but now things have changed. We’re having fun without all the planning, aren’t we?’ Lacey smiled, a lipstick sheen of a smile that seemed to transmit that she didn’t have a care in the world.
‘Welcome everybody to the Blue Vue Hotel! Tonight for your entertainment we have Miss Blue Vue Hotel competition!’
Tanja yelling into the microphone stopped the conversation.
‘Ooo Miss Blue Vue. Shall I enter?’ Lacey’s face became a picture of youthful excitement.
Ellen shrugged. ‘I’m certainly not going to stop you.’
* * *
Yan had her clothes in a plastic bag. He’d gone to drop them at reception before he came down to the entertainment area but he just hadn’t been able to do it. It seemed wrong, impersonal, inappropriate after what they’d shared. Now they were in the backstage dressing area on the table next to his discarded clown outfit and the forms Tanja had passed him earlier. It was a sheaf of paper. At least four pages with questions and boxes and lines to fill up with words he didn’t have. How did he begin to explain what had happened with Zachary? How could you describe such an incident? All he felt now was fear, a cold dread, the black cloud back again, waiting over his head to break the storm.
‘What do you do back here?’ Sergei poked his head around the door.
‘I ... make sure costumes are ready for contestants.’ Yan pushed the forms away and picked up a pirate’s hat.
* * *
Ellen saw Yan come onto the stage from the backstage area. He began to arrange chairs into place, all tight forearms and toned obliques through the thin material of his shirt. Her stomach moving at that precise moment had nothing to do with the stack load of dolmades she’d consumed and she knew it. He caused that reaction in her and she was almost sure he felt the same. Really, the way she was feeling now, she wanted to dive straight into whatever was happening between them. She felt lost here, never more alone, despite having Lacey and her infidelity issues. She was like a boat cast off from the shore, being battered by the tide and drifting, being carried further and further away from everything she thought she knew about life. She needed something.
‘And our first contestant for Miss Blue Vue Hotel is ... Miss Lacey from England!’
Dasha’s announcement had Lacey squealing, jumping from her chair and trotting off to the stage where Sergei, Tanja and Yan were waiting.
Ellen downed the remainder of her drink and looked toward the beach. The towns and villages of Albania twinkled from across the water and a ferry, lit up with white lights, sailed past the bay, following the path of the moonlight. The cicadas started their song from the palms and the scent of citrus invaded her every sense. How could she be somewhere so beautiful and feel so tied in knots? She was stuck, trapped and most of it was her making. If she hadn’t even dated Ross, if she hadn’t shared anything with him, or if she’d dated more seriously in the past, gained experience of love and trust a little sooner she might have been less naive, less susceptible.
She jolted from her reverie when her phone rumbled into action. Swiping it up she pressed icons until she found her emails. There was one new one from Milo.
All her senses halted at once, a full-on all together ceasing. Her thumb was hovering over the email as she read the subject line. Keegan Manufacturing.
A lump the size of Ayers Rock was blocking her throat as she lightly pressed the screen of her phone to read the email. With blurred vision she started to pick out words – discrepancies, modifications – and the contents of what Milo was talking about. He’d been through the Keegan Manufacturing accounts. He knew there was something wrong. And by the time she got home, everyone would know it was down to her.
* * *
Something was wrong. Yan could tell. Although the three competitors for the Miss Blue Vue Hotel contest were swishing bits of themselves over chairs in a bid to perform the sexiest moves, his eyes were focussed on Ellen. She’d finished her drink quickly, her hands shaking as she held onto the mobile phone in her hand. Her eyes, those beautiful, brown eyes, were filled with alarm. She was only a few yards away but completely out of reach. He had a job to do. He swallowed to relieve his dry throat as he watched her. He wanted to go to her, find out what was happening, what was making her look this way.
He watched her stand, pick up her bag from the floor and make towards the steps. She was leaving.
25
Ellen had to do something. She couldn’t just sit there, stuck, her whole professional future whirling around in her head like a cinematic merry-go-round. Everything she’d built, everything she’d strived for, followed by visions of it all crashing down around her. She’d got her vengeance on Ross but she had committed a crime in doing it. Why hadn’t the seriousness of that hit her before now?
Ellen could hear the laughter from the stage as she walked around, past the steps to the suite and down the path toward the beach. Lacey squealing, Dasha exclaiming, the sound of balloons bursting. It wasn’t real life. It was a holiday, an alternate world and right now she couldn’t cope with any of it.
‘Ellen.’
She heard Yan’s voice but she couldn’t stop walking. She just needed to keep on moving, stepping away, distancing herself. She focussed on the night sky, so full of stars, so vast and dark …
Yan grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her to a stop just before the gate.
* * *
He turned her around where she stood, forcing her to pay attention to him. But instead of looking into his eyes as he hoped, she focussed her gaze lower, at the bag he was holding. The bag containing her clothes.
He swallowed, the air between them sharpening.
‘They are cleaned,’ he stated, breaking the tension.
The words sounded stupid and inappropriate. They were nothing like what he wanted to say.
‘I don’t care,’ Ellen responded. ‘You can keep them if you want. Give them to the next girl.’
Her voice sounded detached, like the words had come from her but she hadn’t been the one saying them.
‘You are upset,’ he offered, putting the bag on the floor.
‘Yes, I am upset.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘And there’s nothing anyone can do to fix it.’
Ellen turned away, shaking her arm free from his touch.
‘How do you know this?’
* * *
She’d expected him to give up. She wanted him to give up. She just needed to reach the sand and the sea, press her toes into the ground and try to stop the world from turning.
‘It could help to talk,’ he offered. ‘I could listen and it could help you.’
Ellen turned back to face him. He was looking at her, those aquamarine eyes studying her face, his hands in the pockets of his jeans now, his chest rising and falling with each breath.
She relented. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
She felt her breath collect in her lungs, pooling there, not knowing whether to rise up and out or sink back down into her abdomen. He was looking at her, those eyes resting on her.
‘You do not have to say anything if that is what you want.’
She watched him place the bag on the ground and take a step closer to her.
Her body reacted to his movement. It was an involuntary motion that started slowly deep inside her and then grew, spread out, widening itself into something forceful. As it overwhelmed her every sense, she rocked on her heels, imbalanced, off centre.
‘I behave so wrong last night,’ he began.
She shook her head. ‘No.’
He hadn’t done anything but retreat. And retreating had been the sensible thing to do. She’d craved his attention in the moment. It had been a natural response to being involved with s
omething so terrifying that she would remember it forever. She shivered.
‘Yes, I do.’ He shifted further forward. ‘I know this.’
He was close now, face to face, looking at her with a hot intensity. She wet her lips with her tongue as every ion of her woke up to his proximity.
Her eyes matched his, her breath accelerating against the humid air between them. She didn’t want to talk. Right now she wanted to act. She wanted to feel lost, weightless, spiralling in the moment, ungrounded and just a little chaotic. Where had all her thinking ever got her?
* * *
Yan knew this was going against his self-imposed embargo and every one of the rules of his job but he couldn’t stop it. He felt something for her and he hoped he could sense a matching sentiment from her. He had his new beginning here but where was the meaning? He could work harder than anyone else and this still might not be the answer to his future. She liked him. She liked him for him, as he was now, with no need for shaping or change. That meant so much.
But still, he was nervous. The whole of his body was super-charged, jolting his insides as he stood before her, wanting to act but trying to be calm, needing everything to be just right.
‘I do not do this …’ He paused, his eyes holding hers captive. ‘With any other woman here.’ He tried again. ‘There is no next girl.’
* * *
The sincerity in Yan’s tone hit her far more than the words. She really believed him. She knew he was telling her the truth. And the fact he wanted her to know that, wanted her to feel she was special – it touched every sense.
Ellen pulled in her core as he raised a hand and grazed it down her hair. As each strand filtered through his fingers she felt it more keenly.
