Then. Now. Always.

by Isabelle Broom

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ Nancy chirps, pointing at Tom. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt you.’

  ‘You weren’t,’ Tom is quick to tell her, and the red mist around me swells even thicker.

  ‘I thought you were dead!’ I exclaim. ‘You can’t just disappear like that, Nancy. It’s not fair. I’ve been worried sick all bloody day!’

  ‘Chill,’ she says, stumbling forwards in her stupid shoes and stepping on my exposed big toe.

  ‘For God’s sake!’ I yelp, hopping around and clutching my foot.

  ‘Sorry,’ Nancy sniggers, sounding anything but as she strolls over to Tom and leans against him.

  ‘You can’t just take off with random Spanish men whenever you feel like it,’ I inform her, wincing as I put my flip-flop back on. ‘Not when you’re staying with me.’

  Infuriatingly, Nancy doesn’t even reply; she just laughs again.

  ‘It’s not funny!’ I yell, finally losing my temper with her completely.

  I see Tom wince at the volume of my voice, but Nancy merely stares at me, her eyes glassy and her mouth set in a hard line.

  ‘Slut,’ I add. It’s a barely more than a whisper, but Nancy hears it.

  ‘Take that back,’ she hisses, and Tom clamps his arm around her a little tighter.

  ‘Why should I?’ I retort. ‘It’s the truth. First you’re all over Diego and a few days later you’re off doing God knows what with Ignacio. You want to be careful, or you’ll get a reputation.’

  ‘Bitch!’ Nancy storms, and this time Tom has to hold her back.

  ‘Takes one to know one,’ I snap back, feeling the adrenalin surge through me. My heart is racing now and I’m shaking with rage. How dare she not apologise? How bloody dare she call me a bitch?

  ‘Will you two stop it?’ Tom orders, his voice annoyingly stern and teacher-like. ‘Say sorry to each other.’

  ‘Pah!’ I snarl, just as Nancy scoffs.

  There’s a beat of silence as the two of us just glare at one another, and then Nancy starts to cry. Of course she bloody does. And Tom, being the utter twerp that he is, seems to believe her tears are genuine and starts to comfort her, nestling her head against his chest in a far more protective way than he did with me a few minutes ago.

  ‘I think it’s best if Nancy stays at mine tonight,’ he tells me, glancing at me over the top of her head. ‘There’s no point in you having a go at her, Hannah. She’s back safe and that’s all that matters.’

  I hate him. I hate her. I hate them both.

  ‘Fine,’ I say, storming past them and heading down the steps. ‘You two are welcome to each other.’

  18

  Despite having my bed back for the night, I still don’t manage to get much sleep. Even when I do, I’m plagued by dreams of Tom and Nancy whispering horrible things about me, and about my dad, too, telling me how disappointed he is in me, and asking why I can’t be more like his other daughter. His favourite daughter.

  Claudette is up before me for once, because she and Theo have a script meeting at his villa before we commence filming for the day. The jealousy I feel about this fact has been steadily barbecuing my small intestines since I woke up, and if it wasn’t for the pre-arranged meeting with Elaine that I have at La Fuente this morning, I’d insist on going with her. And anyway, I remind myself as I listen to Claudette crashing around in first the bathroom and then the kitchen, I know I don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to her and Theo. After what he admitted to me at the beach the other evening, I know he sees her as more of a necessary evil than a desirable vixen.

  I wonder how Nancy is feeling this morning, if she’s even woken up yet. From the state of her last night, I’d guess she’s facing a humdinger of a hangover today, although the thought of her having a crashing headache and feeling sick is only a small comfort. I don’t allow myself to even entertain the image of her in Tom’s bed, or him beside her, and the two of them snuggled up together. I just can’t. I won’t.

  Elaine has brought me coffee today instead of flowers, and it’s so nice to be welcomed by someone friendly and kind that I almost give in to the tears that have been threatening since yesterday.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asks without hesitation, her soft, lined face full of concern. She’s wearing her hair down for the first time this morning and it makes her look gentler somehow, and younger. She’s dressed in a long, flowing red skirt and a white crocheted blouse that she’s knotted at the waist, and there’s a thin strip of brown flesh just visible between the two. I’m back in my shorts and vest combo today, too tired and fed up to make any sort of effort.

  I think about lying and telling her that I’m fine, that there’s nothing to worry about, but this time I don’t. This time I simply shake my head from side to side. Instead of leading me away from La Fuente, Elaine motions for us to sit down on the steps, and she waits while I compose myself, her eyes trained on those floating rainbows that she adores so much. The breeze has dropped this morning and the sun feels heavy and abrasive, and I fidget around trying to find a comfortable position.

  After a while, the sound of the water running into the marble basins begins to soothe me, and I take a deep breath, inhaling the droplets of moisture that are dancing in the air all around us. I start by telling her about Nancy, explaining how I’ve always struggled to get on well with her. Elaine nods along as I describe how my sister turned up here unannounced, then disappeared yesterday, and how worried I was, and finally I recount the argument we had last night, skipping over the details but admitting that what I said to her perhaps wasn’t very nice.

  For a long time after I’ve finished talking, Elaine continues to watch her rainbows, and then she turns to face me.

  ‘I don’t have any brothers or sisters,’ she says, tucking her sweep of dark hair behind one ear. ‘It was always just me and my mother.’

  ‘Do you still see her?’ I ask, smiling as I picture my own mother, so scatty and warm and full of love for me.

  Elaine shakes her head. ‘Not for a long time now.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ I reply, before I’ve really had time to think it through. ‘Well, unless she’s not very nice, that is.’

  Elaine emits a low chuckle at this. ‘Oh, she’s not a monster. Just not very good at being a parent.’

  ‘Sounds like my dad,’ I tell her, stretching my legs out in front of me. There’s a bruise starting to emerge on the big toe that Nancy stepped on.

  ‘What did he do?’ Elaine asks.

  ‘It’s more what he didn’t do,’ I reply, watching a little boy in blue shorts carry his empty water bottle over to one of the spouts. His mum is trying to help him fill it up, but it’s obvious he wants to do it all by himself.

  ‘He didn’t stick around. He was gone before I was even two years old.’

  ‘That must have been hard for your mother,’ Elaine guesses.

  ‘It was,’ I agree. ‘I never had any idea how hard until I was a bit older. She was always very careful to protect me from any sort of upset, so she didn’t let me know what my dad had done to her for quite a long time. She always told me that they still loved each other, but it wasn’t true. Well, not in his case at least.’

  ‘I don’t think my father ever knew I existed,’ Elaine tells me now, sounding wistful. ‘I certainly never met him.’

  I picture my own father, his broad shoulders that he used to let me ride on and his wide smile. I used to do just about anything to get him to bestow that smile on me. Then later, once I hit puberty, I did anything I could to make him cross. I don’t even remember now why I behaved that way, because I never did it with my mum. It was always just him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, unsure of how else to reply.

  ‘Don’t be,’ Elaine says. ‘You can’t miss someone you’ve never met, after all.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  The boy is now trying to screw the cap back on the top of his bottle, and the look of concentration on his adorable little face is making me smile.
I wonder if I’ll ever bring my own child here to this fountain one day, and see his or her expression light up at the sight of the flowers in their pots. At the moment, it seems totally surreal to imagine myself as a mum, but I do like to think that I’ll always come here to Mojácar. Now that I’m back after such a long time away, I can’t believe I waited so many years.

  ‘Have you ever spoken to your dad about what happened?’ Elaine asks now.

  ‘Not really,’ I admit, shifting my shoes through the dust. ‘I know that he met Susie – that’s Nancy’s mum – a few months after I was born, and I’ve overheard him tell people that it was love at first sight.’

  ‘Do you believe in that?’ she wants to know, and I reply with a bitter laugh.

  ‘Even if it was true, I don’t think it’s a good enough reason to leave your wife and baby daughter,’ I say simply. ‘He should have at least tried to make things work.’

  Elaine is silent for a few minutes before replying.

  ‘I can understand why you’re angry with him,’ she says gently. ‘It must feel as if he abandoned you.’

  ‘He did!’ I reply, failing to stop the hostility creeping into my voice. Talking about my dad always tips me over the edge.

  ‘But he’s still in your life,’ she points out. ‘It may not be in the same house, but he is still there.’

  I know she’s right, but it doesn’t make me any less resentful towards him. Aside from the odd boyfriend here or there over the years, my mum has never really recovered from having her heart broken. I know she secretly still carries a little love in her heart for my dad, even if she won’t admit it, and I wish she wouldn’t. He doesn’t deserve it. I remember what Elaine said to me before about the nature of love, and how true love lasts for always. Is that why my mum has never moved on properly, because she can’t stop loving my dad?

  ‘I think I’m horrible to him because my mum never is,’ I blurt, realising as I say it that it’s absolutely the truth. ‘She wants to keep the peace and I just want to snipe at him.’

  ‘And your half-sister?’ Elaine asks.

  ‘She’s just spoilt,’ I grumble. ‘Nancy can do no wrong, as far as my dad is concerned. She’s his baby with the love of his life, so of course she means more to him than I do.’

  ‘Do you really believe that?’ Elaine sounds genuinely interested.

  ‘Yes,’ I insist, getting to my feet and brushing the white dust off the back of my shorts. ‘I really do.’

  Tom is waiting for me on the apartment steps when I get back from seeing Elaine, his eyes narrow from lack of sleep and a half-empty bottle of water clamped between his knees.

  ‘All right?’ I ask, looking anywhere but at his face. How extraordinary that just last night he felt like the closest person in the whole world to me, and now we can barely acknowledge each other.

  ‘Yeah. You?’

  ‘I’m okay. Just been with Elaine. She remembers Jacinto the mayor – you know the one I was telling you about?’

  Tom nods.

  ‘Apparently he was quite a character, and knew the names of everyone in the whole of Mojácar.’

  ‘That’s impressive.’ Tom braves a look at me, but I drop my eyes.

  ‘I think Theo will love it,’ I tell him. ‘It will be great to have that level of detail.’

  ‘Listen, Han,’ he begins, but I carry on talking across him.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Nancy feels really bad,’ he goes on, apparently choosing to ignore me. ‘She was crying half the night.’

  ‘The truth hurts,’ I mutter, and he looks at me reproachfully. ‘What?’ I cry, throwing up my hands in exasperation. ‘What the hell do you want me to say, Tom? You know how worried I was. What she did was totally selfish.’

  ‘I want you to tell Nancy that you overreacted because you were concerned. I know you don’t really think she’s a slut.’

  ‘Oh, I definitely meant it,’ I argue, even though it’s not strictly true. I have been feeling guilty all morning about saying that particular thing to her, but I don’t appreciate Tom telling me off about it. If I had been contemplating apologising, which I genuinely was, I certainly won’t be now.

  Tom takes a deep breath, seemingly more exhausted than irritated, and glares at me.

  ‘She’s your sister, Hannah.’

  ‘So you keep telling me.’

  ‘You’re older than her – so you should be the one to make the effort here.’

  I can’t actually believe he’s still talking.

  ‘Why should I?’ I reply. ‘Nancy has always got every single little thing that she’s ever wanted, and I’d rather cartwheel over hot coals than give her the satisfaction of an apology.’

  Tom is getting fed up with me now; I can tell because the tops of his ears are bright red.

  ‘She’s not the person you make her out to be,’ he says then. ‘She made a mistake yesterday and she’s sorry, but the two of you are as bad as each other when it comes to backing down. The thing is, Han, what she really wants is your approval – that’s all she’s ever wanted.’

  ‘Since when do you know so much about it?’ I demand.

  ‘Since we sat up talking half the night,’ he replies. ‘And since—’ He stops abruptly, catching the end of his sentence on the tip of his own tongue.

  ‘Since what?’ I prompt, dread wrapping itself around my throat like a clammy hand.

  Tom looks at the floor.

  ‘Talking isn’t all you did last night, is it?’ I say, already knowing the answer.

  There’s a loaded beat of silence, then he looks right into my eyes.

  ‘No,’ he says.

  19

  The Indalo Man on my wrist may be driving away storms with his magical rainbow shield, but he’s failed to protect me from the whirlwind force of Nancy. She’s been in Mojácar for a week now, which is all it’s taken for her to steal first my sanity, then my bed, then my best friend.

  By forcing myself to focus solely on work yesterday afternoon and refusing unequivocally to speak to Tom about anything not relating to the documentary, I somehow made it through to the end of the day. Theo could tell something was wrong, and asked me at least four times if I was okay, but I was so dumbfounded by what Tom had confessed that I couldn’t even feel comforted by his attention. Uncharacteristically for me, I made my excuses to leave as soon as we wrapped for the day and took the bus right to the other end of the beach. I needed time alone to stew, and to call Rachel and fill her in on what had happened. She was naturally as appalled as I was at the idea of Nancy and Tom together, and it made me feel a lot better about the fact that I was almost mute with anger. I didn’t even know how I’d react if I set eyes on Nancy, so I waited until after eleven before heading back to the apartment, only to find no sign of her. Claudette, who was wrapped around Carlos on the sofa clad in just a bra and shorts, informed me cheerily that my sister had, in fact, gone to stay the night at Tom’s place.

  Waking early on Saturday morning with a full day off stretching ahead of me, I pulled my new favourite flower-patterned dress on over my bikini and came straight down to the beach, hoping that I could somehow swim away the turmoil raging inside.

  As it turns out, the turbulent Mediterranean does little to calm my disgruntlement. First, I stand heavily on the sharp edge of a stone on the way in, only to lurch sideways and get unceremoniously smashed in the face by a wave. There’s a whole seventeen kilometres of beach to choose from in Mojácar, but I appear to have waded into the section with the most seaweed, and it insists on wrapping its slimy tentacles around my legs and arms as I do my best to front-crawl through the surf.

  I’ve just given up and am staggering back into shore when I see Theo jogging along the sand towards me, his dark, muscular arms glistening with sweat and the white wire of his headphones bouncing off the front of his black vest.

  I think he’s going to run right past me, but at the last second he turns and almost trips over in surprise.
/>   ‘Hannah!’

  ‘Morning, boss.’

  ‘Good swim?’ he enquires, looking over my shoulder at the frothy swirl of the sea.

  ‘It was actually awful.’ I grin at him. It feels nice to be smiling again – moodiness really doesn’t suit me. ‘Good run?’

  ‘Hard run,’ he admits, wiping his brow. ‘I’m glad that I have seen you – now I have an excuse to stop.’

  He’s glad to see me. I let those sweet words settle over me like jam atop a crumpet.

  ‘It’s very hot,’ he adds, lifting the bottom of his vest and using it to remove the sweat from his top lip. My nostrils are assailed by a mixture of limes and delicious man-smell, and it’s all I can do not to leap open-legged into his arms.

  ‘Can I offer you some breakfast?’ he asks, and I accept wholeheartedly, running back to the lounger where I left my towel and bag. I deliberately avoided the patch of beach close to his villa because I wanted to be by myself, but now that I’ve bumped into Theo all the way down here, it feels like fate.

  I assume that he means breakfast at one of the many beachside cafés, but Theo leads me past each of them in turn, chatting all the while about the time he ran the London Marathon and how it was ‘the most painful experience of my life’. I laugh politely and exclaim in awe at his impressive finishing time of three hours fifteen minutes, but inside I’m a tangled mess of lust.

  Theo is taking me back to his villa.

  ‘I don’t have churros, I’m afraid,’ he says, retrieving his key from a little hidden pocket in the back of his running shorts and slipping it into the lock. ‘But I do have eggs.’

  ‘Eggs sound perfect,’ I assure him, wondering how I’ll force any food at all past the wedge of adoration that is stuck fast to the inside of my throat.

  ‘Take off your dress, if you like.’

  ‘WHAT?’

  Theo turns at the sound of my surprised yelp and laughs.

  ‘Your bikini is still wet,’ he says, and we both look down at the two circular wet patches on the front of my dress.